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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/8897-h.zip b/8897-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a95a3dc --- /dev/null +++ b/8897-h.zip diff --git a/8897-h/8897-h.htm b/8897-h/8897-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..31b7d93 --- /dev/null +++ b/8897-h/8897-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8756 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Nina Balatka, by Anthony Trollope</title> +<style type="text/css"> + body {background:#FFF8F0; + color:black; + font-family:Times New Roman; + font-size:12pt; + text-align: justify; + margin-top:50px; + margin-left:15%; + margin-right:15%;} + table.contents {font-size: 14pt; + text-align: left; } + p {text-indent: 4% } + p.noindent {text-indent: 0%; } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + pre {font-size:80%;} + hr {width: 100%; + height: 5px; } + +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1 align="center">The Project Gutenberg eBook, Nina Balatka, by Anthony Trollope</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p class="noindent">Title: Nina Balatka</p> +<p class="noindent">Author: Anthony Trollope</p> +<p class="noindent">Release Date: September, 2005 [eBook #8897]</p> +<p class="noindent">[This file was first posted on August 26, 2003]<br> +[Most recently updated: June 8, 2010]</p> +<p class="noindent">Language: English</p> +<p class="noindent">Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p class="noindent">***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NINA BALATKA***</p> +<br><br><center><h3>E-text prepared by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.</h3></center><br><br> +<hr noshade> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h1>NINA BALATKA</h1> +<h2>by +<br> +<br> +ANTHONY TROLLOPE</h2> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<br> +<table class="contents"> +<tr><td><a href="#intro">Introduction</a></td><td> </td> +<tr><td>Volume I </td> <td> </td> +<tr><td> </td> <td><a href="#chapt1" >Chapter I</a></td> +<tr><td> </td> <td><a href="#chapt2" >Chapter II</a></td> +<tr><td> </td> <td><a href="#chapt3" >Chapter III</a></td> +<tr><td> </td> <td><a href="#chapt4" >Chapter IV</a></td> +<tr><td> </td> <td><a href="#chapt5" >Chapter V</a></td> +<tr><td> </td> <td><a href="#chapt6" >Chapter VI</a></td> +<tr><td> </td> <td><a href="#chapt7" >Chapter VII</a></td> +<tr><td> </td> <td><a href="#chapt8" >Chapter VIII</a></td> +<tr><td>Volume II </td> <td> </td> +<tr><td> </td> <td><a href="#chapt9" >Chapter IX</a></td> +<tr><td> </td> <td><a href="#chapt10" >Chapter X</a></td> +<tr><td> </td> <td><a href="#chapt11" >Chapter XI</a></td> +<tr><td> </td> <td><a href="#chapt12" >Chapter XII</a></td> +<tr><td> </td> <td><a href="#chapt13" >Chapter XIII</a></td> +<tr><td> </td> <td><a href="#chapt14" >Chapter XIV</a></td> +<tr><td> </td> <td><a href="#chapt15" >Chapter XV</a></td> +<tr><td> </td> <td><a href="#chapt16" >Chapter XVI</a></td> +</table> +<br> +<br> +<a name="intro"></a> +<br> +<br> +<h2>INTRODUCTION</h2> +</center> + +<p>Anthony Trollope was an established novelist of great renown when <i>Nina +Balatka</i> was published in 1866, twenty years after his first novel. +Except for <i>La Vendée</i>, his third novel, set in France during the +Revolution, all his previous works were set in England or Ireland and +dealt with the upper levels of society: the nobility and the landed +gentry (wealthy or impoverished), and a few well-to-do merchants — people +several strata above the social levels of the characters popularized by +his contemporary Dickens. Most of Trollope's early novels were set in +the countryside or in provincial towns, with occasional forays into +London. The first of his political novels, <i>Can You Forgive Her</i>, dealing +with the Pallisers was published in 1864, two years before <i>Nina</i>. By the +time he began writing <i>Nina</i>, shortly after a tour of Europe, Trollope +was a master at chronicling the habits, foibles, customs, and ways of +life of his chosen subjects. + +<p><i>Nina Balatka</i> is, on the surface, a love story — not an unusual theme for +Trollope. Romance and courtship were woven throughout all his previous +works, often with two, three, or even more pairs of lovers per novel. +Most of his heroes and heroines, after facing numerous hurdles, often +of their own making, were eventually happily united by the next-to-last +chapter. A few were doomed to disappointment (Johnny Eames never won +the heart of Lily Dale through two of the "Barsetshire" novels), but +marital bliss — or at least the prospect of bliss — was the usual outcome. +Even so, the reader of Trollope soon notices his analytical description +of Victorian courtship and marriage. In the circles of Trollope's +characters, only the wealthy could afford to marry for love; those +without wealth had to marry for money, sometimes with disastrous +consequences. By the time of <i>Nina</i>, Trollope's best exploration of +this subject was the marriage between Plantagenet Palliser and Lady +Glencora M'Cluskie, the former a cold fish and the latter a hot-blooded +heiress in love with a penniless scoundrel (<i>Can You Forgive Her?</i> +1865). Yet to come was the disastrous marriage of intelligent Lady +Laura Standish to the wealthy but old-maidish Robert Kennedy in <i>Phineas +Finn</i> and its sequel. + +<p>But <i>Nina Balatka</i> is different from Trollope's previous novels in four +respects. First, Trollope was accustomed to include in his novels his +own witty editorial comments about various subjects, often paragraphs or +even several pages long. No such comments are found in <i>Nina</i>. Second, +the story is set in Prague instead of the British isles. Third, the +hero and heroine are already in love and engaged to one another at the +opening; we are not told any details about their falling in love. The +hero, Anton Trendellsohn is a successful businessman in his +mid-thirties — not the typical Trollopian hero in his early twenties, still +finding himself, and besotted with love. Anton is rather cold as lovers +go, seldom whispering words of endearment to Nina. But it is the fourth +difference which really sets this novel apart and makes it both a +masterpiece and an enigma. That fourth — and most important — difference +is clearly stated in the remarkable opening sentence of the novel: + + <blockquote><i> + Nina Balatka was a maiden of Prague, born of Christian parents, + and herself a Christian — but she loved a Jew; and this is her + story. + </i></blockquote> + +<p>Marriage — even worse, love — between a Christian and a Jew would have +been unacceptable to Victorian British readers. Blatant anti-semitism +was prevalent — perhaps ubiquitous — among the upper classes. + +<p>Let us consider the origins of this anti-semitism. Jews were first +allowed into England by William the Conqueror. For a while they +prospered, largely through money-lending, an occupation to which +they were restricted. In the 13th century a series of increasingly +oppressive laws and taxes reduced the Jewish community to poverty, and +the Jews were expelled from England in 1290. They were not allowed to +return until 1656, when Oliver Cromwell authorized their entry over +the objections of British merchants. Legal protection for the Jews +increased gradually; even the "Act for the More Effectual Suppressing +of Blasphemy and Profaneness" (1698) recognized the practice of Judaism +as legal, but there were probably only a few hundred Jews in the entire +country. The British Jewish community grew gradually, and efforts to +emancipate the Jews were included in various "Reform Acts" in the first +half of the 19th century, although many failed to become law. Gradually +Jews were admitted to the bar and other professions. Full citizenship +and rights, including the right to sit in Parliament, were granted in +1858 — only seven years before Trollope began writing <i>Nina Balatka</i>. By +this time wealthy Jewish families were growing in number. This upward +mobility and increasing economic and political power no doubt made the +British upper classes envious and resentful, fuelling anti-semitism. + +<p>Trollope chose to have <i>Nina</i> published anonymously in <i>Blackwood's +Magazine</i> for reasons which he described in his autobiography: + + <blockquote><i> + From the commencement of my success as a writer . . . I had + always felt an injustice in literary affairs which had never + afflicted me or even suggested itself to me while I was + unsuccessful. It seemed to me that a name once earned carried + with it too much favour . . . The injustice which struck me did + not consist in that which was withheld from me, but in that which + was given to me. I felt that aspirants coming up below me might + do work as good as mine, and probably much better work, and yet + fail to have it appreciated. In order to test this, I determined + to be such an aspirant myself, and to begin a course of novels + anonymously, in order that I might see whether I could succeed in + obtaining a second identity, — whether as I had made one mark by + such literary ability as I possessed, I might succeed in doing so + again.</i> <a href="#1">[1]</a> + </blockquote> + + + + +<p>Why did Trollope start his "new" career with a novel whose central theme +was a subject of distaste at best — more likely revulsion — to the vast +majority of the reading public? Perhaps the nature of the novel itself +led him to consider publishing it anonymously, although we know he was +not averse to controversial subjects. In his first book, <i>The Macdermots +of Ballycloran</i>, which he thought had the best plot of all his novels, +the principal female character is seduced by a scoundrel and dies giving +birth to an illegitimate child. + +<p>Certainly <i>Nina</i> was well-suited for the experiment because of it's +different setting and subject matter. Perhaps further to disguise his +authorship, Trollope wrote <i>Nina</i> in a style of prose that reads almost +like a translation from a foreign language. + +<p>The experiment did not last long enough to test Trollope's hypothesis. +Mr. Hutton, critic for the <i>Spectator</i>, recognized Trollope as the author +and so stated in his review. Trollope did not deny the accusation. + +<p>One cannot discuss <i>Nina Balatka</i> without addressing the question, was +Trollope himself anti-semitic? A careful reading of his works does not +provide a clear answer. Jews appear in some of his books and are referred +to in others, often as disreputable characters or money-lenders. They are +seldom mentioned by his Christian characters with respect, probably +realistically reflecting the sentiments of the classes he wrote about. +Some of his greatest villains in his later novels — Melmotte in <i>The Way +We Live Now</i> (1875) and Lopez in <i>The Prime Minister</i> (1876) — are rumored +to be Jewish, but Trollope never unequivocally identifies them as Jewish. +Perhaps his Christian characters expect them to be Jewish because they +are foreigners and villains. + +<p>However, if one ignores the dialogue of his characters, even the +descriptive and editorial comments by Trollope himself at first seem +anti-semitic. He consistently uses "Jew" as a pejorative adjective +instead of "Jewish." His descriptions of the appearance of Jewish +characters are usually unflattering and stereotypical. Even Anton +Trendellsohn, the hero of <i>Nina Balatka</i>, is described as follows: + + <blockquote><i> + To those who know the outward types of his race there could be no + doubt that Anton Trendellsohn was a very Jew among Jews. He was + certainly a handsome man, not now very young, having reached some + year certainly in advance of thirty, and his face was full of + intellect. He was slightly made, below the middle height, but was + well made in every limb, with small feet and hands, and small + ears, and a well-turned neck. He was very dark — dark as a man can + be, and yet show no sign of colour in his blood. No white man + could be more dark and swarthy than Anton Trendellsohn. His eyes, + however, which were quite black, were very bright. His jet-black + hair, as it clustered round his ears, had in it something of a + curl. Had it been allowed to grow, it would almost have hung in + ringlets; but it was worn very short, as though its owner were + jealous even of the curl. Anton Trendellsohn was decidedly a + handsome man; but his eyes were somewhat too close together in his + face, and the bridge of his aquiline nose was not sharply cut, as + is mostly the case with such a nose on a Christian face. The olive + oval face was without doubt the face of a Jew, and the mouth was + greedy, and the teeth were perfect and bright, and the movement of + the man's body was the movement of a Jew. + </i></blockquote> + +<p>This is not the typical description of the romantic hero of a Victorian +novel. Even so, Trollope's description of Anton is less derogatory than +his description of Ezekiel Brehgert, a character in a later novel, <i>The +Way We Live Now</i>: + + <blockquote><i> + He was a fat, greasy man, good-looking in a certain degree, about + fifty, with hair dyed black, and beard and moustache dyed a dark + purple colour. The charm of his face consisted in a pair of very + bright black eyes, which were, however, set too near together in + his face for the general delight of Christians. He was stout fat + all over rather than corpulent and had that look of command in his + face which has become common to master-butchers, probably by long + intercourse with sheep and oxen. + </i></blockquote> + +<p>The case for Trollope being anti-semitic is harder to support, however, +when one considers the behavior of his Jewish characters. Brehgert, +whose physical description above is stereotypic, is one of the few +characters in <i>The Way We Live Now</i> whose actions are completely +honorable. Trollope wrote 16 novels before <i>Nina Balatka</i>; only two of +those contain Jewish characters. The first, who plays a minor role in +<i>Orley Farm</i> (1862), is Soloman Aram, an attorney — a Victorian Rumpole + — known for defending the accused at the Old Bailey. His skill is needed +to defend Lady Mason against a charge of perjury, much to the distaste +of her Christian advisors. He acts with dignity and shows great +consideration for the personal comfort of Lady Mason during her trial. +The second Jewish character in Trollope's novels was Mr. Hart, a London +tailor who runs for a seat in Parliament in <i>Rachel Ray</i> (1863). This +served no purpose in the plot; the situation probably was included +because legislation to allow Jews to serve in Parliament had been +passed only five years before, and the issue was still one of public +discussion. Mr. Hart's appearance is brief; he speaks only one or +two lines, and the reader is not told enough about him to judge his +character. Trollope describes him thus: + + <blockquote><i> + . . . and then the Jewish hero, the tailor himself, came among + them, and astonished their minds by the ease and volubility of his + speeches. He did not pronounce his words with any of those soft + slushy Judaic utterances by which they had been taught to believe + he would disgrace himself. His nose was not hookey, with any + especial hook, nor was it thicker at the bridge than was becoming. + He was a dapper little man, with bright eyes, quick motion, ready + tongue, and a very new hat. It seemed that he knew well how to + canvass. He had a smile and a good word for all — enemies as well + as friends. + </i></blockquote> + +<p>In that novel, Trollope, himself, comments on prejudice and bigotry: + + <blockquote><i> + . . . Mrs. Ray, in her quiet way, expressed much joy that Mr. + Comfort's son-in-law should have been successful, and that + Baslehurst should not have disgraced itself by any connection + with a Jew. To her it had appeared monstrous that such a one + should have been even permitted to show himself in the town as a + candidate for its representation. To such she would have denied + all civil rights, and almost all social rights. For a true spirit + of persecution one should always go to a woman; and the milder, + the sweeter, the more loving, the more womanly the woman, the + stronger will be that spirit within her. Strong love for the thing + loved necessitates strong hatred for the thing hated, and thence + comes the spirit of persecution. They in England who are now + keenest against the Jews, who would again take from them rights + that they have lately won, are certainly those who think most of + the faith of a Christian. The most deadly enemies of the Roman + Catholics are they who love best their religion as Protestants. + When we look to individuals we always find it so, though it + hardly suits us to admit as much when we discuss these subjects + broadly. To Mrs. Ray it was wonderful that a Jew should have been + entertained in Baslehurst as a future member for the borough, and + that he should have been admitted to speak aloud within a few + yards of the church tower! + </i></blockquote> + +<p><i>Nina Balatka</i> presents a sharp contrast between the behaviors of the +Jewish and Christian characters. Nina and her father Josef Balatka +live on the edge of poverty; he was cheated out of his business by his +Christian brother-in-law, who is now wealthy. Josef's only source of +money was to sell his house to Anton Trendellsohn's father, who for many +years has allowed Josef and Nina to remain in the house without paying +any rent. Nina's Christian relatives use every form of deceit in their +attempt to turn Anton against Nina. Nina's Aunt Sophie spews invective +in every direction. She tells Nina, "Impudent girl! — brazen-faced, +impudent, bad girl! Do you not know that you would bring disgrace upon +us all?" To Nina's father she says, "Tell me that at once, Josef, +that I may know. Has she your sanction for — for — for this accursed +abomination?" To her husband she says, "Oh, I hate them! I do hate them! +Anything is fair against a Jew." And during a meeting with Anton she +exclaims, "How dares he come here to talk of his love? It is filthy — it +is worse than filthy — it is profane." + +<p>Anton's family also opposes the marriage, but Anton's father's behavior +toward Nina is in sharp contrast to that of her aunt: + + <blockquote><i> + The old man's heart was softened towards her. He could not bring + himself to say a word to her of direct encouragement, but he + kissed her before she went, telling her that she was a good girl, + and bidding her have no care as to the house in the Kleinseite. As + long as he lived, and her father, her father should not be + disturbed. + </i></blockquote> + +<p>Anton, being more a businessman than a lover, at times behaves +insensitively toward Nina. Otherwise, throughout the novel, the Jewish +characters act with honesty and kindness. Even the Jewish maiden who +wants to marry Anton does not scheme to break up his engagement to Nina +but rather befriends Nina and eventually saves her life. One has to +wonder whether Trollope intended this contrast to induce his readers to +reconsider their prejudices. Consider his perception of his duty as a +writer: + + <blockquote><i> + . . . And the criticism [of my work offered by Hawthorne], + whether just or unjust, describes with wonderful accuracy the + purport that I have ever had in view in my writing. I have always + desired to 'hew out some lump of the earth', and to make men and + women walk upon it just as they do walk here among us, — with not + more of excellence, nor with exaggerated baseness, — so that my + readers might recognise human beings like to themselves, and not + feel themselves to be carried away among gods or demons. If I + could do this, then I thought I might succeed in impregnating the + mind of the novel-reader with a feeling that honesty is the best + policy; that truth prevails while falsehood fails; that a girl + will be loved as she is pure, and sweet, and unselfish; that a man + will be honoured as he is true, and honest, and brave of heart; + that things meanly done are ugly and odious, and things nobly done + beautiful and gracious. . . There are many who would laugh at the + idea of a novelist teaching either virtue or nobility, — those, for + instance, who regard the reading of novels as a sin, and those + also who think it to be simply an idle pastime. They look upon the + tellers of stories as among the tribe of those who pander to the + wicked pleasures of a wicked world. I have regarded my art from so + different a point of view that I have ever thought of myself as a + preacher of sermons, and my pulpit as one which I could make both + salutary and agreeable to my audience. I do believe that no girl + has risen from the reading of my pages less modest than she was + before, and that some may have learned from them that modesty is + a charm well worth preserving. I think that no youth has been + taught that in falseness and flashness is to be found the road to + manliness; but some may perhaps have learned from me that it is + to be found in truth and a high but gentle spirit. Such are the + lessons I have striven to teach; and I have thought that it might + best be done by representing to my readers characters like + themselves, — or to which they might liken themselves.</i> <a href="#1">[1]</a> + </blockquote> + +<a name="3"></a> + +<p>Given Trollope's philosophy, it is reasonable to believe that the +actions of his characters should speak louder than their words. If +so, Trollope might well have been holding up a mirror to his audience +that they might examine their own prejudices. Unfortunately, we shall +never know. + +<a name="1"></a> + <blockquote> + <font size="-1"> + [1] Anthony Trollope. <i>An Autobiography</i>. Oxford University Press, + Oxford, 1950. + </font> + </blockquote> +<table> +<tr><td width="60%"></td><td align="right" width="40%"><b>Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.</b> +<tr><td> </td><td align="right">Midland, 2003 +</table> +<table> +<tr><td width="18%"></td><td align="left"> + <font size="-2"> + Copyright © 2003 Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D. + This Introduction to <i>Nina Balatka</i> is protected by + copyright and/or other applicable law. Any use of the + work other than as authorized in <a href="#2">"The Legal Small Print"</a> + section (found at the end of the book) is prohibited. + </font> + </td><td width="10%"></td> +</table> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="chapt1"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h1>NINA BALATKA</h1> +<br> +<br> +<h2>VOLUME I</h2> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> +</center> + +<p>Nina Balatka was a maiden of Prague, born of Christian parents, and +herself a Christian — but she loved a Jew; and this is her story. + +<p>Nina Balatka was the daughter of one Josef Balatka, an old merchant +of Prague, who was living at the time of this story; but Nina's mother +was dead. Josef, in the course of his business, had become closely +connected with a certain Jew named Trendellsohn, who lived in a mean +house in the Jews' quarter in Prague — habitation in that one allotted +portion of the town having been the enforced custom with the Jews then, +as it still is now. In business with Trendellsohn, the father, there +was Anton, his son; and Anton Trendellsohn was the Jew whom Nina +Balatka loved. Now it had so happened that Josef Balatka, Nina's +father, had drifted out of a partnership with Karil Zamenoy, a wealthy +Christian merchant of Prague, and had drifted into a partnership with +Trendellsohn. How this had come to pass needs not to be told here, as +it had all occurred in years when Nina was an infant. But in these +shiftings Balatka became a ruined man, and at the time of which I write +he and his daughter were almost penniless. The reader must know that +Karil Zamenoy and Josef Balatka had married sisters. Josef's wife, +Nina's mother, had long been dead, having died — so said Sophie Zamenoy, +her sister — of a broken heart; of a heart that had broken itself in +grief, because her husband had joined his fortunes with those of a Jew. +Whether the disgrace of the alliance or its disastrous result may have +broken the lady's heart, or whether she may have died of a pleurisy, as +the doctors said, we need not inquire here. Her soul had been long at +rest, and her spirit, we may hope, had ceased to fret itself in horror +at contact with a Jew. But Sophie Zamenoy was alive and strong, and +could still hate a Jew as intensely as Jews ever were hated in those +earlier days in which hatred could satisfy itself with persecution. In +her time but little power was left to Madame Zamenoy to persecute the +Trendellsohns other than that which nature had given to her in the +bitterness of her tongue. She could revile them behind their back, or, +if opportunity offered, to their faces; and both she had done often, +telling the world of Prague that the Trendellsohns had killed her +sister, and robbed her foolish brother-in-law. But hitherto the full +vial of her wrath had not been emptied, as it came to be emptied +afterwards; for she had not yet learned the mad iniquity of her niece. +But at the moment of which I now speak, Nina herself knew her own +iniquity, hardly knowing, however, whether her love did or did not +disgrace her. But she did know that any thought as to that was too +late. She loved the man, and had told him so; and were he gipsy as well +as Jew, it would be required of her that she should go out with him +into the wilderness. And Nina Balatka was prepared to go out into the +wilderness. Karil Zamenoy and his wife were prosperous people, and +lived in a comfortable modern house in the New Town. It stood in +a straight street, and at the back of the house there ran another +straight street. This part of the city is very little like that old +Prague, which may not be so comfortable, but which, of all cities on +the earth, is surely the most picturesque. Here lived Sophie Zamenoy; +and so far up in the world had she mounted, that she had a coach of +her own in which to be drawn about the thoroughfares of Prague and its +suburbs, and a stout little pair of Bohemian horses — ponies they were +called by those who wished to detract somewhat from Madame Zamenoy's +position. Madame Zamenoy had been at Paris, and took much delight +in telling her friends that the carriage also was Parisian; but, in +truth, it had come no further than from Dresden. Josef Balatka and +his daughter were very, very poor; but, poor as they were, they lived +in a large house, which, at least nominally, belonged to old Balatka +himself, and which had been his residence in the days of his better +fortunes. It was in the Kleinseite, that narrow portion of the town, +which lies on the other side of the river Moldau — the further side, +that is, from the so-called Old and New Town, on the western side of +the river, immediately under the great hill of the Hradschin. The +Old Town and the New Town are thus on one side of the river, and the +Kleinseite and the Hradschin on the other. To those who know Prague, +it need not here be explained that the streets of the Kleinseite are +wonderful in their picturesque architecture, wonderful in their lights +and shades, wonderful in their strange mixture of shops and palaces — +and now, alas! also of Austrian barracks — and wonderful in their +intricacy and great steepness of ascent. Balatka's house stood in a +small courtyard near to the river, but altogether hidden from it, +somewhat to the right of the main street of the Kleinseite as you pass +over the bridge. A lane, for it is little more, turning from the main +street between the side walls of what were once two palaces, comes +suddenly into a small square, and from a corner of this square there is +an open stone archway leading into a court. In this court is the door, +or doors, as I may say, of the house in which Balatka lived with his +daughter Nina. Opposite to these two doors was the blind wall of +another residence. Balatka's house occupied two sides of the court, +and no other window, therefore, besides his own looked either upon it +or upon him. The aspect of the place is such as to strike with wonder a +stranger to Prague — that in the heart of so large a city there should +be an abode so sequestered, so isolated, so desolate, and yet so close +to the thickest throng of life. But there are others such, perhaps many +others such, in Prague; and Nina Balatka, who had been born there, +thought nothing of the quaintness of her abode. Immediately over the +little square stood the palace of the Hradschin, the wide-spreading +residence of the old kings of Bohemia, now the habitation of an +ex-emperor of the House of Hapsburg, who must surely find the thousand +chambers of the royal mansion all too wide a retreat for the use of his +old age. So immediately did the imperial hill tower over the spot on +which Balatka lived, that it would seem at night, when the moon was +shining as it shines only at Prague, that the colonnades of the palace +were the upper storeys of some enormous edifice, of which the broken +merchant's small courtyard formed a lower portion. The long rows of +windows would glimmer in the sheen of the night, and Nina would stand +in the gloom of the archway counting them till they would seem to be +uncountable, and wondering what might be the thoughts of those who +abode there. But those who abode there were few in number, and their +thoughts were hardly worthy of Nina's speculation. The windows of +kings' palaces look out from many chambers. The windows of the +Hradschin look out, as we are told, from a thousand. But the rooms +within have seldom many tenants, nor the tenants, perhaps, many +thoughts. Chamber after chamber, you shall pass through them by the +score, and know by signs unconsciously recognised that there is not, +and never has been, true habitation within them. Windows almost +innumerable are there, that they may be seen from the outside — and such +is the use of palaces. But Nina, as she would look, would people the +rooms with throngs of bright inhabitants, and would think of the joys +of happy girls who were loved by Christian youths, and who could dare +to tell their friends of their love. But Nina Balatka was no coward, +and she had already determined that she would at once tell her love to +those who had a right to know in what way she intended to dispose of +herself. As to her father, if only he could have been alone in the +matter, she would have had some hope of a compromise which would have +made it not absolutely necessary that she should separate herself from +him for ever in giving herself to Anton Trendellsohn. Josef Balatka +would doubtless express horror, and would feel shame that his daughter +should love a Jew — though he had not scrupled to allow Nina to go +frequently among these people, and to use her services with them for +staving off the ill consequences of his own idleness and ill-fortune; +but he was a meek, broken man, and was so accustomed to yield to Nina +that at last he might have yielded to her even in this. There was, +however, that Madame Zamenoy, her aunt — her aunt with the bitter tongue; +and there was Ziska Zamenoy, her cousin — her rich and handsome cousin, +who would so soon declare himself willing to become more than cousin, +if Nina would but give him one nod of encouragement, or half a smile of +welcome. But Nina hated her Christian lover, cousin though he was, as +warmly as she loved the Jew. Nina, indeed, loved none of the Zamenoys — +neither her cousin Ziska, nor her very Christian aunt Sophie with the +bitter tongue, nor her prosperous, money-loving, acutely mercantile +uncle Karil; but, nevertheless, she was in some degree so subject to +them, that she knew that she was bound to tell them what path in life +she meant to tread. Madame Zamenoy had offered to take her niece to +the prosperous house in the Windberg-gasse when the old house in the +Kleinseite had become poor and desolate; and though this generous offer +had been most fatuously declined — most wickedly declined, as aunt +Sophie used to declare — nevertheless other favours had been vouchsafed; +and other favours had been accepted, with sore injury to Nina's pride. +As she thought of this, standing in the gloom of the evening under the +archway, she remembered that the very frock she wore had been sent to +her by her aunt. But I in spite of the bitter tongue, and in spite of +Ziska's derision, she would tell her tale, and would tell it soon. She +knew her own courage, and trusted it; and, dreadful as the hour would +be, she would not put it off by one moment. As soon as Anton should +desire her to declare her purpose, she would declare it; and as he who +stands on a precipice, contemplating the expediency of throwing himself +from the rock, will feel himself gradually seized by a mad desire to do +the deed out of hand at once, so did Nina feel anxious to walk off to +the Windberg-gasse, and dare and endure all that the Zamenoys could say +or do. She knew, or thought she knew, that persecution could not go now +beyond the work of the tongue. No priest could immure her. No law could +touch her because she was minded to marry a Jew. Even the people in +these days were mild and forbearing in their usages with the Jews, and +she thought that the girls of the Kleinseite would not tear her clothes +from her back even when they knew of her love. One thing, however, was +certain. Though every rag should be torn from her — though some priest +might have special power given him to persecute her — though the +Zamenoys in their wrath should be able to crush her — even though her +own father should refuse to see her, she would be true to the Jew. Love +to her should be so sacred that no other sacredness should be able to +touch its sanctity. She had thought much of love, but had never loved +before. Now she loved, and, heart and soul, she belonged to him to whom +she had devoted herself. Whatever suffering might be before her, though +it were suffering unto death, she would endure it if her lover demanded +such endurance. Hitherto, there was but one person who suspected her. +In her father's house there still remained an old dependant, who, +though he was a man, was cook and housemaid, and washer-woman and +servant-of-all-work; or perhaps it would be more true to say that +he and Nina between them did all that the requirements of the house +demanded. Souchey — for that was his name — was very faithful, but with +his fidelity had come a want of reverence towards his master and +mistress, and an absence of all respectful demeanour. The enjoyment of +this apparent independence by Souchey himself went far, perhaps, in +lieu of wages. + +<p>"Nina," he said to her one morning, "you are seeing too much of Anton +Trendellsohn." + +<p>"What do you mean by that, Souchey?" said the girl, sharply. + +<p>"You are seeing too much of Anton Trendellsohn," repeated the old man. + +<p>"I have to see him on father's account. You know that. You know that, +Souchey, and you shouldn't say such things." + +<p>"You are seeing too much of Anton Trendellsohn," said Souchey for the +third time. "Anton Trendellsohn is a Jew." + +<p>Then Nina knew that Souchey had read her secret, and was sure that it +would spread from him through Lotta Luxa, her aunt's confidential maid, +up to her aunt's ears. Not that Souchey would be untrue to her on +behalf of Madame Zamenoy, whom he hated; but that he would think +himself bound by his religious duty — he who never went near priest or +mass himself — to save his mistress from the perils of the Jew. The +story of her love must be told, and Nina preferred to tell it herself +to having it told for her by her servant Souchey. She must see Anton. +When the evening therefore had come, and there was sufficient dusk upon +the bridge to allow of her passing over without observation, she put +her old cloak upon her shoulders, with the hood drawn over her head, +and, crossing the river, turned to the left and made her way through +the narrow crooked streets which led to the Jews' quarter. She knew the +path well, and could have found it with blindfolded eyes. In the middle +of that close and densely populated region of Prague stands the old +Jewish synagogue — the oldest place of worship belonging to the Jews in +Europe, as they delight to tell you; and in a pinched-up, high-gabled +house immediately behind the synagogue, at the corner of two streets, +each so narrow as hardly to admit a vehicle, dwelt the Trendellsohns. +On the basement floor there had once been a shop. There was no shop +now, for the Trendellsohns were rich, and no longer dealt in retail +matters; but there had been no care, or perhaps no ambition, at work, +to alter the appearance of their residence, and the old shutters were +upon the window, making the house look as though it were deserted. +There was a high-pitched sharp roof over the gable, which, as +the building stood alone fronting upon the synagogue, made it so +remarkable, that all who knew Prague well, knew the house in which the +Trendellsohns lived. Nina had often wished, as in latter days she had +entered it, that it was less remarkable, so that she might have gone in +and out with smaller risk of observation. It was now the beginning of +September, and the clocks of the town had just struck eight as Nina put +her hand on the lock of the Jew's door. As usual it was not bolted, +and she was able to enter without waiting in the street for a servant +to come to her. She went at once along the narrow passage and up the +gloomy wooden stairs, at the foot of which there hung a small lamp, +giving just light enough to expel the actual blackness of night. On the +first landing Nina knocked at a door, and was desired to enter by a +soft female voice. The only occupant of the room when she entered was a +dark-haired child, some twelve years old perhaps, but small in stature +and delicate, and, as appeared to the eye, almost wan. "Well, Ruth +dear," said Nina, "is Anton at home this evening?" + +<p>"He is up-stairs with grandfather, Nina. Shall I tell him?" + +<p>"If you will, dear," said Nina, stooping down and kissing her. + +<p>"Nice Nina, dear Nina, good Nina," said the girl, rubbing her glossy +curls against her friend's cheeks. "Ah, dear, how I wish you lived +here!" + +<p>"But I have a father, as you have a grandfather, Ruth." + +<p>"And he is a Christian." + +<p>"And so am I, Ruth." + +<p>"But you like us, and are good, and nice, and dear — and oh, Nina, you +are so beautiful! I wish you were one of us, and lived here. There is +Miriam Harter — her hair is as light as yours, and her eyes are as +grey." + +<p>"What has that to do with it?" + +<p>"Only I am so dark, and most of us are dark here in Prague. Anton says +that away in Palestine our girls are as fair as the girls in Saxony." + +<p>"And does not Anton like girls to be dark?" + +<p>"Anton likes fair hair — such as yours — and bright grey eyes such as +you have got. I said they were green, and he pulled my ears. But now +I look, Nina, I think they are green. And so bright! I can see my own +in them, though it is so dark. That is what they call looking babies." + +<p>"Go to your uncle, Ruth, and tell him that I want him — on business." + +<p>"I will, and he'll come to you. He won't let me come down again, so +kiss me, Nina; good-bye." + +<p>Nina kissed the child again, and then was left alone in the room. It +was a comfortable chamber, having in it sofas and arm-chairs — much more +comfortable, Nina used to think, than her aunt's grand drawing-room in +the Windberg-gasse, which was covered all over with a carpet, after the +fashion of drawing-rooms in Paris; but the Jew's sitting-room was dark, +with walls painted a gloomy green colour, and there was but one small +lamp of oil upon the table. But yet Nina loved the room, and as she sat +there waiting for her lover, she wished that it had been her lot to +have been born a Jewess. Only, had that been so, her hair might perhaps +have been black, and her eyes dark, and Anton would not have liked her. +She put her hand up for a moment to her rich brown tresses, and felt +them as she took joy in thinking that Anton Trendellsohn loved to look +upon fair beauty. + +<p>After a short while Anton Trendellsohn came down. To those who know +the outward types of his race there could be no doubt that Anton +Trendellsohn was a very Jew among Jews. He was certainly a handsome +man, not now very young, having reached some year certainly in advance +of thirty, and his face was full of intellect. He was slightly made, +below the middle height, but was well made in every limb, with small +feet and hands, and small ears, and a well-turned neck. He was very +dark — dark as a man can be, and yet show no sign of colour in his +blood. No white man could be more dark and swarthy than Anton +Trendellsohn. His eyes, however, which were quite black, were very +bright. His jet-black hair, as it clustered round his ears, had in it +something of a curl. Had it been allowed to grow, it would almost have +hung in ringlets; but it was worn very short, as though its owner were +jealous even of the curl. Anton Trendellsohn was decidedly a handsome +man; but his eyes were somewhat too close together in his face, and the +bridge of his aquiline nose was not sharply cut, as is mostly the case +with such a nose on a Christian face. The olive oval face was without +doubt the face of a Jew, and the mouth was greedy, and the teeth were +perfect and bright, and the movement of the man's body was the movement +of a Jew. But not the less on that account had he behaved with +Christian forbearance to his Christian debtor, Josef Balatka, and with +Christian chivalry to Balatka's daughter, till that chivalry had turned +itself into love. + +<p>"Nina," he said, putting out his hand, and holding hers as he spoke, "I +hardly expected you this evening; but I am glad to see you — very glad." + +<p>"I hope I am not troubling you, Anton?" + +<p>"How can you trouble me? The sun does not trouble us when we want light +and heat." + +<p>"Can I give you light and heat?" + +<p>"The light and heat I love best, Nina." + +<p>"If I thought that — if I could really think that — I would be happy +still, and would mind nothing." + +<p>"And what is it you do mind?" + +<p>"There are things to trouble us, of course. When aunt Sophie says that +all of us have our troubles — even she — I suppose that even she speaks +the truth." + +<p>"Your aunt Sophie is a fool." + +<p>"I should not mind if she were only a fool. But a fool can sometimes be +right." + +<p>"And she has been scolding you because — you — prefer a Jew to a +Christian." + +<p>"No — not yet, Anton. She does not know it yet; but she must know it." + +<p>"Sit down, Nina." He was still holding her by the hand; and now, as he +spoke, he led her to a sofa which stood between the two windows. There +he seated her, and sat by her side, still holding her hand in his. +"Yes," he said, "she must know it of course — when the time comes; and +if she guesses it before, you must put up with her guesses. A few sharp +words from a foolish woman will not frighten you, I hope." + +<p>"No words will frighten me out of my love, if you mean that — neither +words nor anything else." + +<p>"I believe you. You are brave, Nina. I know that. Though you will cry +if one but frowns at you, yet you are brave." + +<p>"Do not you frown at me, Anton." + +<p>"I am one of those that do frown at times, I suppose; but I will be +true to you, Nina, if you will be true to me." + +<p>"I will be true to you — true as the sun." + +<p>As she made her promise she turned her sweet face up to his, and he +leaned over her, and kissed her. + +<p>"And what is it that has disturbed you now, Nina? What has Madame +Zamenoy said to you?" + +<p>"She has said nothing — as yet. She suspects nothing — as yet." + +<p>"Then let her remain as she is." + +<p>"But, Anton, Souchey knows, and he will talk." + +<p>"Souchey! And do you care for that?" + +<p>"I care for nothing — for nothing; for nothing, that is, in the way of +preventing me. Do what they will, they cannot tear my love from my +heart." + +<p>"Nor can they take you away, or lock you up." + +<p>"I fear nothing of that sort, Anton. All that I really fear is secrecy. +Would it not be best that I should tell father?" + +<p>"What! — now, at once?" + +<p>"If you will let me. I suppose he must know it soon." + +<p>"You can if you please." + +<p>"Souchey will tell him." + +<p>"Will Souchey dare to speak of you like that?" asked the Jew. + +<p>"Oh, yes; Souchey dares to say anything to father now. Besides, it is +true. Why should not Souchey say it?" + +<p>"But you have not spoken to Souchey; you have not told him?" + +<p>"I! No indeed. I have spoken never a word to anyone about that — only to +you. How should I speak to another without your bidding? But when they +speak to me I must answer them. If father asks me whether there be +aught between you and me, shall I not tell him then?" + +<p>"It would be better to be silent for a while." + +<p>"But shall I lie to him? I should not mind Souchey nor aunt Sophie +much; but I never yet told a lie to father." + +<p>"I do not tell you to lie." + +<p>"Let me tell it all. Anton, and then, whatever they may say, whatever +they may do, I shall not mind. I wish that they knew it, and then I +could stand up against them. Then I could tell Ziska that which would +make him hold his tongue for ever." + +<p>"Ziska! Who cares for Ziska?" + +<p>"You need not, at any rate." + +<p>"The truth is, Nina, that I cannot be married till I have settled all +this about the houses in the Kleinseite. The very fact that you would +be your father's heir prevents my doing so." + +<p>"Do you think that I wish to hurry you? I would rather stay as I am, +knowing that you love me." + +<p>"Dear Nina! But when your aunt shall once know your secret, she will +give you no peace till you are out of her power. She will leave no +stone unturned to make you give up your Jew lover." + +<p>"She may as well leave the turning of such stones alone." + +<p>"But if she heard nothing of it till she heard that we were married — " + +<p>"Ah! but that is impossible. I could not do that without telling +father, and father would surely tell my aunt." + +<p>"You may do as you will, Nina; but it may be, when they shall know it, +that therefore there may be new difficulty made about the houses. Karil +Zamenoy has the papers, which are in truth mine — or my father's — which +should be here in my iron box." And Trendellsohn, as he spoke, put his +hand forcibly on the seat beside him, as though the iron box to which +he alluded were within his reach. + +<p>"I know they are yours," said Nina. + +<p>"Yes; and without them, should your father die, I could not claim my +property. The Zamenoys might say they held it on your behalf — and you +my wife at the time! Do you see, Nina? I could not stand that — I would +not stand that." + +<p>"I understand it well, Anton." + +<p>"The houses are mine — or ours, rather. Your father has long since had +the money, and more than the money. He knew that the houses were to be +ours." + +<p>"He knows it well. You do not think that he is holding back the +papers?" + +<p>"He should get them for me. He should not drive me to press him for +them. I know they are at Karil Zamenoy's counting-house; but your uncle +told me, when I spoke to him, that he had no business with me; if I had +a claim on him, there was the law. I have no claim on him. But I let +your father have the money when he wanted it, on his promise that the +deeds should be forthcoming. A Christian would not have been such a +fool." + +<p>"Oh, Anton, do not speak to me like that." + +<p>"But was I not a fool? See how it is now. Were you and I to become man +and wife, they would never give them up, though they are my own — my +own. No; we must wait; and you — you must demand them from your uncle." + +<p>"I will demand them. And as for waiting, I care nothing for that if you +love me." + +<p>"I do love you." + +<p>"Then all shall be well with me; and I will ask for the papers. Father, +I know, wishes that you should have all that is your own. He would +leave the house to-morrow if you desired it." + +<p>"He is welcome to remain there." + +<p>"And now, Anton, good-night." + +<p>"Good-night, Nina." + +<p>"When shall I see you again?" + +<p>"When you please, and as often. Have I not said that you are light +and heat to me? Can the sun rise too often for those who love it?" +Then she held her hand up to be kissed, and kissed his in return, and +went silently down the stairs into the street. He had said once in +the course of the conversation — nay, twice, as she came to remember +in thinking over it — that she might do as she would about telling +her friends; and she had been almost craftily careful to say nothing +herself, and to draw nothing from him, which could be held as +militating against this authority, or as subsequently negativing the +permission so given. She would undoubtedly tell her father — and her +aunt; and would as certainly demand from her uncle those documents of +which Anton Trendellsohn had spoken to her. +<br> +<br> +<a name="chapt2"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> +</center> + +<p>Nina, as she returned home from the Jews' quarter to her father's +house in the Kleinseite, paused for a while on the bridge to make some +resolution — some resolution that should be fixed — as to her immediate +conduct. Should she first tell her story to her father, or first to her +aunt Sophie? There were reasons for and against either plan. And if to +her father first, then should she tell it to-night? She was nervously +anxious to rush at once at her difficulties, and to be known to all +who belonged to her as the girl who had given herself to the Jew. It +was now late in the evening, and the moon was shining brightly on the +palace over against her. The colonnades seemed to be so close to her +that there could hardly be room for any portion of the city to cluster +itself between them and the river. She stood looking up at the great +building, and fell again into her trick of counting the windows, +thereby saving herself a while from the difficult task of following out +the train of her thoughts. But what were the windows of the palace to +her? So she walked on again till she reached a spot on the bridge at +which she almost always paused a moment to perform a little act of +devotion. There, having a place in the long row of huge statues which +adorn the bridge, is the figure of the martyr St John Nepomucene, who +at this spot was thrown into the river because he would not betray the +secrets of a queen's confession, and was drowned, and who has ever +been, from that period downwards, the favourite saint of Prague — and +of bridges. On the balustrade, near the figure, there is a small plate +inserted in the stone-work and good Catholics, as they pass over the +river, put their hands upon the plate, and then kiss their fingers. So +shall they be saved from drowning and from all perils of the water — as +far, at least, as that special transit of the river may be perilous. +Nina, as a child, had always touched the stone, and then touched her +lips, and did the act without much thought as to the saving power of St +John Nepomucene. But now, as she carried her hand up to her face, she +did think of the deed. Had she, who was about to marry a Jew, any right +to ask for the assistance of a Christian saint? And would such a deed +that she now proposed to herself put her beyond the pale of Christian +aid? Would the Madonna herself desert her should she marry a Jew? If +she were to become truer than ever to her faith — more diligent, more +thoughtful, more constant in all acts of devotion — would the blessed +Mary help to save her, even though she should commit this great sin? +Would the mild-eyed, sweet Saviour, who had forgiven so many women, who +had saved from a cruel death the woman taken in adultery, who had been +so gracious to the Samaritan woman at the well — would He turn from her +the graciousness of His dear eyes, and bid her go out for ever from +among the faithful? Madame Zamenoy would tell her so, and so would +Sister Teresa, an old nun, who was on most friendly terms with Madame +Zamenoy, and whom Nina altogether hated; and so would the priest, to +whom, alas! she would be bound to give faith. And if this were so, +whither should she turn for comfort? She could not become a Jewess! She +might call herself one; but how could she be a Jewess with her strong +faith in St Nicholas, who was the saint of her own Church, and in St +John of the River, and in the Madonna? No; she must be an outcast from +all religions, a Pariah, one devoted absolutely to the everlasting +torments which lie beyond Purgatory — unless, indeed, unless that +mild-eyed Saviour would be content to take her faith and her acts of hidden +worship, despite her aunt, despite that odious nun, and despite the +very priest himself! She did not know how this might be with her, but +she did know that all the teaching of her life was against any such +hope. + +<p>But what was — what could be the good of such thoughts to her? Had not +things gone too far with her for such thoughts to be useful? She loved +the Jew, and had told him so; and not all the penalties with which the +priests might threaten her could lessen her love, or make her think of +her safety here or hereafter, as a thing to be compared with her love. +Religion was much to her; the fear of the everlasting wrath of Heaven +was much to her; but love was paramount! What if it were her soul? +Would she not give even her soul for her love, if, for her love's sake, +her soul should be required from her? When she reached the archway, she +had made up her mind that she would tell her aunt first, and that she +would do so early on the following day. Were she to tell her father +first, her father might probably forbid her to speak on the subject to +Madame Zamenoy, thinking that his own eloquence and that of the priest +might prevail to put an end to so terrible an iniquity, and that so +Madame Zamenoy might never learn the tidings. Nina, thinking of all +this, and being quite determined that the Zamenoys should know what +she intended to tell them, resolved that she would say nothing on that +night at home. + +<p>"You are very late, Nina," said her father to her, crossly, as soon +as she entered the room in which they lived. It was a wide apartment, +having in it now but little furniture — two rickety tables, a few +chairs, an old bureau in which Balatka kept, under lock and key, all +that still belonged to him personally, and a little desk, which was +Nina's own repository. + +<p>"Yes, father, I am late; but not very late. I have been with Anton +Trendellsohn." + +<p>"And what have you been there for now?" + +<p>"Anton Trendellsohn has been talking to me about the papers which uncle +Karil has. He wants to have them himself. He says they are his." + +"I suppose he means that we are to be turned out of the old house." + +<p>"No, father; he does not mean that. He is not a cruel man. But he says +that — that he cannot settle anything about the property without having +the papers. I suppose that is true." + +<p>"He has the rent of the other houses," said Balatka. + +<p>"Yes; but if the papers are his, he ought to have them." + +<p>"Did he send for them?" + +<p>"No, father; he did not send." + +<p>"And what made you go?" + +<p>"I am so of often going there. He had spoken to me before about this. +He thinks you do not like him to come here, and you never go there +yourself." + +<p>After this there was a pause for a few minutes, and Nina was settling +herself to her work. Then the old man spoke again. + +<p>"Nina, I fear you see too much of Anton Trendellsohn." The words were +the very words of Souchey; and Nina was sure that her father and the +servant had been discussing her conduct. It was no more than she had +expected, but her father's words had come very quickly upon Souchey's +speech to herself. What did it signify? Everybody would know it all +before twenty-four hours had passed by. Nina, however, was determined +to defend herself at the present moment, thinking that there was +something of injustice in her father's remarks. "As for seeing him +often, father, I have done it because your business has required it. +When you were ill in April I had to be there almost daily." + +<p>"But you need not have gone to-night. He did not send for you." + +<p>"But it is needful that something should be done to get for him that +which is his own." As she said this there came to her a sting of +conscience, a thought that reminded her that, though she was not lying +to her father in words, she was in fact deceiving him; and remembering +her assertion to her lover that she had never spoken falsely to her +father, she blushed with shame as she sat in the darkness of her seat. + +<p>"To-morrow father," she said, "I will talk to you more about this, and +you shall not at any rate say that I keep anything from you." + +<p>"I have never said so, Nina." + +<p>"It is late now, father. Will you not go to bed?" + +<p>Old Balatka yielded to this suggestion, and went to his bed; and Nina, +after some hour or two, went to hers. But before doing so she opened +the little desk that stood in the corner of their sitting-room, of +which the key was always in her pocket, and took out everything that it +contained. There were many letters there, of which most were on matters +of business — letters which in few houses would come into the hands of +such a one as Nina Balatka, but which, through the weakness of her +father's health, had come into hers. Many of these she now read; some +few she tore and burned in the stove, and others she tied in bundles +and put back carefully into their place. There was not a paper in the +desk which did not pass under her eye, and as to which she did not come +to some conclusion, either to keep it or to burn it. There were no +love-letters there. Nina Balatka had never yet received such a letter +as that. She saw her lover too frequently to feel much the need of +written expressions of love; and such scraps of his writing as there +were in the bundles, referred altogether to small matters of business. +When she had thus arranged her papers, she too went to bed. On the next +morning, when she gave her father his breakfast, she was very silent. +She made for him a little chocolate, and cut for him a few slips of +white bread to dip into it. For herself, she cut a slice from a black +loaf made of rye flour, and mixed with water a small quantity of the +thin sour wine of the country. Her meal may have been worth perhaps a +couple of kreutzers, or something less than a penny, whereas that of +her father may have cost twice as much. Nina was a close and sparing +housekeeper, but with all her economy she could not feed three people +upon nothing. Latterly, from month to month, she had sold one thing out +of the house after another, knowing as each article went that provision +from such store as that must soon fail her. But anything was better +than taking money from her aunt whom she hated — except taking money +from the Jew whom she loved. From him she had taken none, though it had +been often offered. "You have lost more than enough by father," she had +said to him when the offer had been made. "What I give to the wife of +my bosom shall never be reckoned as lost," he had answered. She had +loved him for the words, and had pressed his hand in hers — but she had +not taken his money. From her aunt some small meagre supply had been +accepted from time to time — a florin or two now, and a florin or two +again — given with repeated intimations on aunt Sophie's part, that +her husband Karil could not be expected to maintain the house in the +Kleinseite. Nina had not felt herself justified in refusing such gifts +from her aunt to her father, but as each occasion came she told herself +that some speedy end must be put to this state of things. Her aunt's +generosity would not sustain her father, and her aunt's generosity +nearly killed herself. On this very morning she would do that which +should certainly put an end to a state of things so disagreeable. +After breakfast, therefore, she started at once for the house in the +Windberg-gasse, leaving her father still in his bed. She walked very +quick, looking neither to the right nor the left, across the bridge, +along the river-side, and then up into the straight ugly streets of the +New Town. The distance from her father's house was nearly two miles, +and yet the journey was made in half an hour. She had never walked so +quickly through the streets of Prague before; and when she reached the +end of the Windberg-gasse, she had to pause a moment to collect her +thoughts and her breath. But it was only for a moment, and then the +bell was rung. + +<p>Yes; her aunt was at home. At ten in the morning that was a matter of +course. She was shown, not into the grand drawing-room, which was only +used on grand occasions, but into a little back parlour which, in spite +of the wealth and magnificence of the Zamenoys, was not so clean as the +room in the Kleinseite, and certainly not so comfortable as the Jew's +apartment. There was no carpet; but that was not much, as carpets in +Prague were not in common use. There were two tables crowded with +things needed for household purposes, half-a-dozen chairs of different +patterns, a box of sawdust close under the wall, placed there that +papa Zamenoy might spit into it when it pleased him. There was a crowd +of clothes and linen hanging round the stove, which projected far into +the room; and spread upon the table, close to which was placed mamma +Zamenoy's chair, was an article of papa Zamenoy's dress, on which mamma +Zamenoy was about to employ her talents in the art of tailoring. All +this, however, was nothing to Nina, nor was the dirt on the floor much +to her, though she had often thought that if she were to go and live +with aunt Sophie, she would contrive to make some improvement as to the +cleanliness of the house. + +<p>"Your aunt will be down soon," said Lotta Luxa as they passed through +the passage. "She is very angry, Nina, at not seeing you all the last +week." + +<p>"I don't know why she should be angry, Lotta. I did not say I would +come." + +<p>Lotta Luxa was a sharp little woman, over forty years of age, with +quick green eyes and thin red-tipped nose, looking as though Paris +might have been the town of her birth rather than Prague. She wore +short petticoats, clean stockings, an old pair of slippers; and in the +back of her hair she still carried that Diana's dart which maidens wear +in those parts when they are not only maidens unmarried, but maidens +also disengaged. No one had yet succeeded in drawing Lotta Luxa's arrow +from her head, though Souchey, from the other side of the river, had +made repeated attempts to do so. For Lotta Luxa had a little money of +her own, and poor Souchey had none. Lotta muttered something about the +thoughtless thanklessness of young people, and then took herself +down-stairs. Nina opened the door of the back parlour, and found her +cousin Ziska sitting alone with his feet propped upon the stove. + +<p>"What, Ziska," she said, "you not at work by ten o'clock!" + +<p>"I was not well last night, and took physic this morning," said Ziska. +"Something had disagreed with me." + +<p>"I'm sorry for that, Ziska. You eat too much fruit, I suppose." + +<p>"Lotta says it was the sausage, but I don't think it was. I'm very fond +of sausage, and everybody must be ill sometimes. She'll be down here +again directly;" and Ziska with his head nodded at the chair in which +his mother was wont to sit. + +<p>Nina, whose mind was quite full of her business, was determined to go +to work at once. "I'm glad to have you alone for a moment, Ziska," she +said. + +<p>"And so am I very glad; only I wish I had not taken physic, it makes +one so uncomfortable." + +<p>At this moment Nina had in her heart no charity towards her cousin, and +did not care for his discomfort. "Ziska," she said, "Anton Trendellsohn +wants to have the papers about the houses in the Kleinseite. He says +that they are his, and you have them." + +<p>Ziska hated Anton Trendellsohn, hardly knowing why he hated him. "If +Trendellsohn wants anything of us," said he, "why does he not come to +the office? He knows where to find us." + +<p>"Yes, Ziska, he knows where to find you; but, as he says, he has no +business with you — no business as to which he can make a demand. He +thinks, therefore, you would merely bid him begone." + +<p>"Very likely. One doesn't want to see more of a Jew than one can help." + +<p>"That Jew, Ziska, owns the house in which father lives. That Jew, +Ziska, is the best friend that — that — that father has." + +<p>"I'm sorry you think so, Nina." + +<p>"How can I help thinking it? You can't deny, nor can uncle, that the +houses belong to him. The papers got into uncle's hands when he and +father were together, and I think they ought to be given up now. Father +thinks that the Trendellsohns should have them. Even though they are +Jews, they have a right to their own." + +<p>"You know nothing about it, Nina. How should you know about such things +as that?" + +<p>"I am driven to know. Father is ill, and cannot come himself." + +<p>"Oh, laws! I am so uncomfortable. I never will take stuff from Lotta +Luxa again. She thinks a man is the same as a horse." + +<p>This little episode put a stop to the conversation about the title-deeds, +and then Madame Zamenoy entered the room. Madame Zamenoy was a woman +of a portly demeanour, well fitted to do honour by her personal +presence to that carriage and horses with which Providence and an +indulgent husband had blessed her. And when she was dressed in her +full panoply of French millinery — the materials of which had come from +England, and the manufacture of which had taken place in Prague — she +looked the carriage and horses well enough. But of a morning she was +accustomed to go about the house in a pale-tinted wrapper, which, +pale-tinted as it was, should have been in the washing-tub much oftener than +was the case with it — if not for cleanliness, then for mere decency of +appearance. + +<p>And the mode in which she carried her matutinal curls, done up with +black pins, very visible to the eye, was not in itself becoming. The +handkerchief which she wore in lieu of cap, might have been excused on +the score of its ugliness, as Madame Zamenoy was no longer young, had +it not been open to such manifest condemnation for other sins. And in +this guise she would go about the house from morning to night on days +not made sacred by the use of the carriage. Now Lotta Luxa was clean in +the midst of her work; and one would have thought that the cleanliness +of the maid would have shamed the slatternly ways of the mistress. But +Madame Zamenoy and Lotta Luxa had lived together long, and probably +knew each other well. + +<p>"Well, Nina," she said, "so you've come at last?" + +<p>"Yes; I've come, aunt. And as I want to say something very particular +to you yourself, perhaps Ziska won't mind going out of the room for a +minute." Nina had not sat down since she had been in the room, and was +now standing before her aunt with almost militant firmness. She was +resolved to rush at once at the terrible subject which she had in hand, +but she could not do so in the presence of her cousin Ziska. + +<p>Ziska groaned audibly. "Ziska isn't well this morning," said Madame +Zamenoy, "and I do not wish to have him disturbed." + +<p>"Then perhaps you'll come into the front parlour, aunt." + +<p>"What can there be that you cannot say before Ziska?" + +<p>"There is something, aunt," said Nina. + +<p>If there were a secret, Madame Zamenoy decidedly wished to hear it, and +therefore, after pausing to consider the matter for a moment or two, +she led the way into the front parlour. + +<p>"And now, Nina, what is it? I hope you have not disturbed me in this +way for anything that is a trifle." + +<p>"It is no trifle to me, aunt. I am going to be married to — Anton +Trendellsohn." She said the words slowly, standing bolt-upright, at her +greatest height, as she spoke them, and looking her aunt full in the +face with something of defiance both in her eyes and in the tone of +her voice. She had almost said, "Anton Trendellsohn, the Jew;" and when +her speech was finished, and admitted of no addition, she reproached +herself with pusillanimity in that she had omitted the word which had +always been so odious, and would now be doubly odious — odious to her +aunt in a tenfold degree. + +<p>Madame Zamenoy stood for a while speechless — struck with horror. +The tidings which she heard were so unexpected, so strange, and so +abominable, that they seemed at first to crush her. Nina was her +niece — her sister's child; and though she might be repudiated, +reviled, persecuted, and perhaps punished, still she must retain her +relationship to her injured relatives. And it seemed to Madame Zamenoy +as though the marriage of which Nina spoke was a thing to be done at +once, out of hand — as though the disgusting nuptials were to take place +on that day or on the next, and could not now be avoided. It occurred +to her that old Balatka himself was a consenting party, and that utter +degradation was to fall upon the family instantly. There was that in +Nina's air and manner, as she spoke of her own iniquity, which made the +elder woman feel for the moment that she was helpless to prevent the +evil with which she was threatened. + +<p>"Anton Trendellsohn — a Jew," she said, at last. + +<p>"Yes, aunt; Anton Trendellsohn, the Jew. I am engaged to him as his +wife." + +<p>There was a something of doubtful futurity in the word engaged, which +gave a slight feeling of relief to Madame Zamenoy, and taught her to +entertain a hope that there might be yet room for escape. "Marry a Jew, +Nina," she said; "it cannot be possible!" + +<p>"It is possible, aunt. Other Jews in Prague have married Christians." + +<p>"Yes, I know it. There have been outcasts among us low enough so to +degrade themselves — low women who were called Christians. There has +been no girl connected with decent people who has ever so degraded +herself. Does your father know of this?" + +<p>"Not yet." + +<p>"Your father knows nothing of it, and you come and tell me that you are +engaged — to a Jew!" Madame Zamenoy had so far recovered herself that +she was now able to let her anger mount above her misery. "You wicked +girl! Why have you come to me with such a story as this?" + +<p>"Because it is well that you should know it. I did not like to deceive +you, even by secrecy. You will not be hurt. You need not notice me any +longer. I shall be lost to you, and that will be all." + +<p>"If you were to do such a thing you would disgrace us. But you will not +be allowed to do it." + +<p>"But I shall do it." + +<p>"Nina!" + +<p>"Yes, aunt. I shall do it. Do you think I will be false to my troth?" + +<p>"Your troth to a Jew is nothing. Father Jerome will tell you so." + +<p>"I shall not ask Father Jerome. Father Jerome, of course, will condemn +me; but I shall not ask him whether or not I am to keep my promise — my +solemn promise." + +<p>"And why not?" + +<p>Then Nina paused a moment before she answered. But she did answer, and +answered with that bold defiant air which at first had disconcerted her +aunt. + +<p>"I will ask no one, aunt Sophie, because I love Anton Trendellsohn, and +have told him that I love him." + +<p>"Pshaw!" + +<p>"I have nothing more to say, aunt. I thought it right to tell you, and +now I will go." + +<p>She had turned to the door, and had her hand upon the lock when her +aunt stopped her. "Wait a moment, Nina. You have had your say; now you +must hear me." + +<p>"I will hear you if you say nothing against him." + +<p>"I shall say what I please." + +<p>"Then I will not hear you." Nina again made for the door, but her aunt +intercepted her retreat. "Of course you can stop me, aunt, in that way +if you choose." + +<p>"You bold, bad girl!" + +<p>"You may say what you please about myself." + +<p>"You are a bold, bad girl!" + +<p>"Perhaps I am. Father Jerome says we are all bad. And as for boldness, +I have to be bold." + +<p>"You are bold and brazen. Marry a Jew! It is the worst thing a +Christian girl could do." + +<p>"No, it is not. There are things ten times worse than that." + +<p>"How you could dare to come and tell me!" + +<p>"I did dare, you see. If I had not told you, you would have called me +sly." + +<p>"You are sly." + +<p>"I am not sly. You tell me I am bad and bold and brazen." + +<p>"So you are." + +<p>"Very likely. I do not say I am not. But I am not sly. Now, will you +let me go, aunt Sophie?" + +<p>"Yes, you may go — you may go; but you may not come here again till this +thing has been put an end to. Of course I shall see your father and +Father Jerome, and your uncle will see the police. You will be locked +up, and Anton Trendellsohn will be sent out of Bohemia. That is how it +will end. Now you may go." And Nina went her way. + +<p>Her aunt's threat of seeing her father and the priest was nothing to +Nina. It was the natural course for her aunt to take, and a course in +opposition to which Nina was prepared to stand her ground firmly. But +the allusion to the police did frighten her. She had thought of the +power which the law might have over her very often, and had spoken of +it in awe to her lover. He had reassured her, explaining to her that, +as the law now stood in Austria, no one but her father could prevent +her marriage with a Jew, and that he could only do so till she was of +age. Now Nina would be twenty-one on the first of the coming month, and +therefore would be free, as Anton told her, to do with herself as she +pleased. But still there came over her a cold feeling of fear when her +aunt spoke to her of the police. The law might give the police no power +over her; but was there not a power in the hands of those armed men +whom she saw around her on every side, and who were seldom countrymen +of her own, over and above the law? Were there not still dark dungeons +and steel locks and hard hearts? Though the law might justify her, how +would that serve her, if men — if men and women, were determined to +persecute her? As she walked home, however, she resolved that dark +dungeons and steel locks and hard hearts might do their worst against +her. She had set her will upon one thing in this world, and from +that one thing no persecution should drive her. They might kill her, +perhaps. Yes, they might kill her; and then there would be an end of +it. But to that end she would force them to come before she would +yield. So much she swore to herself as she walked home on that morning +to the Kleinseite. + +<p>Madame Zamenoy, when Nina left her, sat in solitary consideration for +some twenty minutes, and then called for her chief confidant, Lotta +Luxa. With many expressions of awe, and with much denunciation of her +niece's iniquity, she told to Lotta what she had heard, speaking of +Nina as one who was utterly lost and abandoned. Lotta, however, did not +express so much indignant surprise as her mistress expected, though she +was willing enough to join in abuse against Nina Balatka. + +<p>"That comes of letting girls go about just as they please among the +men," said Lotta. + +<p>"But a Jew!" said Madame Zamenoy. "If it had been any kind of a +Christian, I could understand it." + +<p>"Trendellsohn has such a hold upon her, and upon her father," said +Lotta. + +<p>"But a Jew! She has been to confession, has she not?" + +<p>"Regularly," said Lotta Luxa. + +<p>"Dear, dear! what a false hypocrite! And at mass?" + +<p>"Four mornings a-week always." + +<p>"And to tell me, after it all, that she means to marry a Jew. Of +course, Lotta, we must prevent it." + +<p>"But how? Her father will do whatever she bids him." + +<p>"Father Jerome would do anything for me." + +<p>"Father Jerome can do little or nothing if she has the bit between her +teeth," said Lotta. "She is as obstinate as a mule when she pleases. She +is not like other girls. You cannot frighten her out of anything." + +<p>"I'll try, at least," said Madame Zamenoy. + +<p>"Yes, we can try," said Lotta. + +<p>"Would not the mayor help us — that is, if we were driven to go to +that?" + +<p>"I doubt if he could do anything. He would be afraid to use a high +hand. He is Bohemian. The head of the police might do something, if +we could get at him." + +<p>"She might be taken away." + +<p>"Where could they take her?" asked Lotta. "No; they could not take her +anywhere." + +<p>"Not into a convent — out of the way somewhere in Italy?" + +<p>"Oh, heaven, no! They are afraid of that sort of thing now. All Prague +would know of it, and would talk; and the Jews would be stronger than +the priests; and the English people would hear of it, and there would +be the very mischief." + +<p>"The times have come to be very bad, Lotta." + +<p>"That's as may be," said Lotta as though she had her doubts upon the +subject. "That's as may be. But it isn't easy to put a young woman +away now without her will. Things have changed — partly for the worse, +perhaps, and partly for the better. Things are changing every day. My +wonder is that he should wish to many her." + +<p>"The men think her very pretty. Ziska is mad about her," said Madame +Zamenoy. + +<p>"But Ziska is a calf to Anton Trendellsohn. Anton Trendellsohn has cut +his wise teeth. Like them all, he loves his money; and she has not got +a kreutzer." + +<p>"But he has promised to marry her. You may be sure of that." + +<p>"Very likely. A man always promises that when he wants a girl to be +kind to him. But why should he stick to it? What can he get by marrying +Nina — a penniless girl, with a pauper for a father? The Trendellsohns +have squeezed that sponge dry already." + +<p>This was a new light to Madame Zamenoy, and one that was not altogether +unpleasant to her eyes. That her niece should have promised herself to +a Jew was dreadful, and that her niece should be afterwards jilted by +the Jew was a poor remedy. But still it was a remedy, and therefore she +listened. + +<p>"If nothing else can be done, we could perhaps put him against it," +said Lotta Luxa. + +<p>Madame Zamenoy on that occasion said but little more, but she agreed +with her servant that it would be better to resort to any means than +to submit to the degradation of an alliance with the Jew. +<br> +<br> +<a name="chapt3"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER III</h3> +</center> + +<p>On the third day after Nina's visit to her aunt, Ziska Zamenoy came +across to the Kleinseite on a visit to old Balatka. In the mean time +Nina had told the story of her love to her father, and the effect on +Balatka had simply been that he had not got out of his bed since. For +himself he would have cared, perhaps, but little as to the Jewish +marriage, had he not known that those belonging to him would have cared +so much. He had no strong religious prejudice of his own, nor indeed +had he strong feeling of any kind. He loved his daughter, and wished +her well; but even for her he had been unable to exert himself in his +younger days, and now simply expected from her hands all the comfort +which remained to him in this world. The priest he knew would attack +him, and to the priest he would be able to make no answer. But to +Trendellsohn, Jew as he was, he would trust in worldly matters, rather +than to the Zamenoys; and were it not that he feared the Zamenoys, and +could not escape from his close connection with them, he would have +been half inclined to let the girl marry the Jew. Souchey, indeed, had +frightened him on the subject when it had first been mentioned to him; +and Nina, coming with her own assurance so quickly after Souchey's +suspicion, had upset him; but his feeling in regard to Nina had none +of that bitter anger, no touch of that abhorrence which animated the +breast of his sister-in-law. When Ziska came to him he was alone in +his bedroom. Ziska had heard the news, as had all the household in the +Windberg-gasse, and had come over to his uncle's house to see what he +could do, by his own diplomacy, to put an end to an engagement which +was to him doubly calamitous. "Uncle Josef," he said, sitting by the +old man's bed, "have you heard what Nina is doing?" + +<p>"What she is doing!" said the uncle. "What is she doing?" Balatka +feared all the Zamenoys, down to Lotta Luxa; but he feared Ziska less +than he feared any other of the household. + +<p>"Have you heard of Anton Trendellsohn?" + +<p>"What of Anton Trendellsohn? I have been hearing of Anton Trendellsohn +for the last thirty years. I have known him since he was born." + +<p>"Do you wish to have him for a son-in-law?" + +<p>"For a son-in-law?" + +<p>"Yes, for a son-in-law — Anton Trendellsohn, the Jew. Would he be a good +husband for our Nina? You say nothing, uncle Josef." + +<p>"What am I to say?" + +<p>"You have heard of it, then? Why can you not answer me, uncle Josef? +Have you heard that Trendellsohn has dared to ask Nina to be his wife?" + +<p>"There is not so much of daring in it, Ziska. Among you all the poor +girl is a beggar. If some one does not take pity on her, she will +starve soon." + +<p>"Take pity on her! Do not we all take pity on her?" + +<p>"No," said Josef Balatka, turning angrily against his nephew; "not a +scrap of pity — not a morsel of love. You cannot rid yourself of her +quite — of her or me — and that is your pity." + +<p>"You are wrong there." + +<p>"Very well; then let me be wrong. I can understand what is before my +eyes. Look round the house and see what we are coming to. Nina at the +present moment has not got a florin in her purse. We are starving, or +next to it, and yet you wonder that she should be willing to marry an +honest man who has plenty of money." + +<p>"But he is a Jew!" + +<p>"Yes; he is a Jew. I know that." + +<p>"And Nina knows it." + +<p>"Of course she does. Do you go home and eat nothing for a week, and +then see whether a Jew's bread will poison you." + +<p>"But to marry him, uncle Josef!" + +<p>"It is very bad. I know it is bad, but what can I do? If she says she +will do it, how can I help it? She has been a good child to me — a very +good child; and am I to lie here and see her starve? You would not give +to your dog the morsel of bread which she ate this morning before she +went out." + +<p>All this was a new light to Ziska. He knew that his uncle and cousin +were very poor, and had halted in his love because he was ashamed +of their poverty; but he had never thought of them as people hungry +from want of food, or cold from want of clothes. It may be said of +him, to his credit, that his love had been too strong for his shame, +and that he had made up his mind to marry his cousin Nina in spite +of her poverty. When Lotta Luxa had called him a calf she had not +inappropriately defined one side of his character. He was a good-looking +well-grown young man, not very wise, quickly susceptible to +female influences, and gifted with eyes capable of convincing him +that Nina Balatka was by far the prettiest woman whom he ever saw. But, +in connection with such calf-like propensities, Ziska was endowed with +something of his mother's bitterness and of his father's persistency; +and the old Zamenoys did not fear but that the fortunes of the family +would prosper in the hands of their son. And when it was known to +Madame Zamenoy and to her husband Karil that Ziska had set his heart +upon having his cousin, they had expressed no displeasure at the +prospect, poor as the Balatkas were. "There is no knowing how it may +go about the houses in the Kleinseite," Karil Zamenoy had said. "Old +Trendellsohn gets the rent and the interest, but he has little or +nothing to show for them — merely a written surrender from Josef, +which is worth nothing." No hindrance, therefore was placed in the +way of Ziska's suit, and Nina might have been already accepted in the +Windberg-gasse had Nina chosen to smile upon Ziska. Now Ziska was told +that the girl he loved was to marry a Jew because she was starving, +and the tidings threw a new light upon him. Why had he not offered +assistance to Nina? It was not surprising that Nina should be so hard +to him — to him who had as yet offered her nothing in her poverty but +a few cold compliments. + +<p>"She shall have bread enough, if that is what she wants," said Ziska. + +<p>"Bread and kindness," said the old man. + +<p>"She shall have kindness too, uncle Josef. I love Nina better than any +Jew in Prague can love her." + +<p>"Why should not a Jew love? I believe the man loves her well. Why else +should he wish to make her his wife?" + +<p>"And I love her well — and I would make her my wife." + +<p>"You want to marry Nina!" + +<p>"Yes, uncle Josef. I wish to marry Nina. I will marry her to-morrow — +or, for that matter, to-day — if she will have me." + +<p>"You! Ziska Zamenoy!" + +<p>"I, Ziska Zamenoy." + +<p>"And what would your mother say?" + +<p>"Both father and mother will consent. There need be no hindrance if +Nina will agree. I did not know that you were so badly off. I did not +indeed, or I would have come to you myself and seen to it." + +<p>Old Balatka did not answer for a while, having turned himself in his +bed to think of the proposition which had been made to him. "Would you +not like to have me for a son-in-law better than a Jew, uncle Josef?" +said Ziska, pleading for himself as best he knew how to plead. + +<p>"Have you ever spoken to Nina?" said the old man. + +<p>"Well, no; not exactly to say what I have said to you. When one loves a +girl as I love her, somehow — I don't know how — But I am ready to do so +at once. + +<p>"Ah, Ziska, if you had done it sooner!" + +<p>"But is it too late? You say she has taken up with this man because you +are both so poor. She cannot like a Jew best." + +<p>"But she is true — so true!" + +<p>"If you mean about her promise to Trendellsohn, Father Jerome would +tell her in a minute that she should not keep such a promise to a Jew." + +<p>"She would not mind Father Jerome." + +<p>"And what does she mind? Will she not mind you?" + +<p>"Me; yes — she will mind me, to give me my food." + +<p>"Will she not obey you?" + +<p>"How am I to bid her obey me? But I will try, Ziska." + +<p>"You would not wish her to marry a Jew?" + +<p>"No, Ziska; certainly I should not wish it." + +<p>"And you will give me your consent?" + +<p>"Yes, if it be any good to you." + +<p>"It will be good if you will be round with her, telling her that she +must not do such a thing as this. Love a Jew! It is impossible. As +you have been so very poor, she may be forgiven for having thought of +it. Tell her that, uncle Josef; and whatever you do, be firm with her." + +<p>"There she is in the next room," said the father, who had heard his +daughter's entrance. Ziska's face had assumed something of a defiant +look while he was recommending firmness to the old man; but now that +the girl of whom he had spoken was so near at hand, there returned to +his brow the young calf-like expression with which Lotta Luxa was so +well acquainted. "There she is, and you will speak to her yourself +now," said Balatka. + +<p>Ziska got up to go, but as he did so he fumbled in his pocket and +brought forth a little bundle of bank-notes. A bundle of bank-notes in +Prague may be not little, and yet represent very little money. When +bank-notes are passed for two-pence and become thick with use, a man +may have a great mass of paper currency in his pocket without being +rich. On this occasion, however, Ziska tendered to his uncle no +two-penny notes. There was a note for five florins, and two or three for +two florins, and perhaps half-a-dozen for a florin each, so that the +total amount offered was sufficient to be of real importance to one +so poor as Josef Balatka. + +<p>"This will help you awhile," said Ziska, "and if Nina will come round +and be a good girl, neither you nor she shall want anything; and she +need not be afraid of mother, if she will only do as I say." Balatka +had put out his hand and had taken the money, when the bedroom door was +opened, and Nina came in. + +<p>"What, Ziska," said she, "are you here?" + +<p>"Why not? why should I not see my uncle?" + +<p>"It is very good of you, certainly; only, as you never came before — " + +<p>"I mean it for kindness, now I have come, at any rate," said Ziska. + +<p>"Then I will take it for kindness," said Nina. + +<p>"Why should there be quarrelling among relatives?" said the old man +from among the bed-clothes. + +<p>"Why, indeed?" said Ziska. + +<p>"Why, indeed," said Nina, " — if it could be helped?" + +<p>She knew that the outward serenity of the words spoken was too good to +be a fair representation of thoughts below in the mind of any of them. +It could not be that Ziska had come there to express even his own +consent to her marriage with Anton Trendellsohn; and without such +consent there must of necessity be a continuation of quarrelling. "Have +you been speaking to father, Ziska, about those papers?" Nina was +determined that there should be no glozing of matters, no soft words +used effectually to stop her in her projected course. So she rushed at +once at the subject which she thought most important in Ziska's +presence. + +<p>"What papers?" said Ziska. + +<p>"The papers which belong to Anton Trendellsohn about this house and the +others. They are his, and you would not wish to keep things which +belong to another, even though he should be a — Jew." + +<p>Then it occurred to Ziska that Trendellsohn might be willing to give +up Nina if he got the papers, and that Nina might be willing to be +free from the Jew by the same arrangement. It could not be that such a +girl as Nina Balatka should prefer the love of a Jew to the love of a +Christian. So at least Ziska argued in his own mind. "I do not want to +keep anything that belongs to anybody," said Ziska. "If the papers are +with us, I am willing that they should be given up — that is, if it be +right that they should be given up." + +<p>"It is right," said Nina. + +<p>"I believe the Trendellsohns should have them — either father or son," +said old Balatka. + +<p>"Of course they should have them," said Nina; "either father or son — it +makes no matter which." + +<p>"I will try and see to it," said Ziska. + +<p>"Pray do," said Nina; "it will be only just; and one would not wish +to rob even a Jew, I suppose." Ziska understood nothing of what was +intended by the tone of her voice, and began to think that there might +really be ground for hope. + +<p>"Nina," he said, "your father is not quite well. I want you to speak to +me in the next room." + +<p>"Certainly, Ziska, if you wish it. Father, I will come again to you +soon. Souchey is making your soup, and I will bring it to you when it +is ready." Then she led the way into the sitting-room, and as Ziska +came through, she carefully shut the door. The walls dividing the rooms +were very thick, and the door stood in a deep recess, so that no sound +could be heard from one room to another. Nina did not wish that her +father should hear what might now pass between herself and her cousin, +and therefore she was careful to shut the door close. + +<p>"Ziska," said she, as soon as they were together, "I am very glad that +you have come here. My aunt is so angry with me that I cannot speak +with her, and uncle Karil only snubs me if I say a word to him about +business. He would snub me, no doubt, worse than ever now; and yet who +is there here to speak of such matters if I may not do so? You see how +it is with father." + +<p>"He is not able to do much, I suppose." + +<p>"He is able to do nothing, and there is nothing for him to do — nothing +that can be of any use. But of course he should see that those who have +been good to him are not — are not injured because of their kindness." + +<p>"You mean those Jews — the Trendellsohns." + +<p>"Yes, those Jews the Trendellsohns! You would not rob a man because he +is a Jew," said she, repeating the old words. + +<p>"They know how to take care of themselves, Nina." + +<p>"Very likely." + +<p>"They have managed to get all your father's property between them." + +<p>"I don't know how that is. Father says that the business which uncle +and you have was once his, and that he made it. In these matters the +weakest always goes to the wall. Father has no son to help him, as +uncle Karil has — and old Trendellsohn." + +<p>"You may help him better than any son." + +<p>"I will help him if I can. Will you and uncle give up those papers +which you have kept since father left them with uncle Karil, just that +they might be safe?" + +<p>This question Ziska would not answer at once. The matter was one on +which he wished to negotiate, and he was driven to the necessity of +considering what might be the best line for his diplomacy. "I am sure, +Ziska," continued Nina, "you will understand why I ask this. Father is +too weak to make the demand, and uncle would listen to nothing that +Anton Trendellsohn would say to him." + +<p>"They say that you have betrothed yourself to this Jew, Nina." + +<p>"It is true. But that has nothing to do with it." + +<p>"He is very anxious to have the deeds?" + +<p>"Of course he is anxious. Father is old and poorly; and what would he +do if father were to die?" + +<p>"Nina, he shall have them — if he will give you up." + +<p>Nina turned away from her cousin and looked out from the window into +the little court. Ziska could not see her face; but had he done so he +would not have been able to read the smile of triumph with which for a +moment or two it became brilliant. No; Anton would make no such bargain +as that! Anton loved her better than any title-deeds. Had he not told +her that she was his sun — the sun that gave to him light and heat? "If +they are his own, why should he be asked to make any such bargain?" +said Nina. + +<p>"Nina," said Ziska, throwing all his passion into his voice, as he best +knew how, "it cannot be that you should love this man." + +<p>"Why not love him?" + +<p>"A Jew!" + +<p>"Yes — a Jew! I do love him." + +<p>"Nina!" + +<p>"What have you to say, Ziska? Whatever you say, do not abuse him. It is +my affair, not yours. You may think what you like of me for taking such +a husband, but remember that he is to be my husband." + +<p>"Nina, let me be your husband." + +<p>"No, Ziska; that cannot be." + +<p>"I love you. I love you fifty times better than he can do. Is not a +Christian's love better than a Jew's?" + +<p>"Because I do not love you. Can there be any other reason in such a +matter? I do not love you. I do not care if I never see you. But him I +love with all my heart. To see him is the only delight of my life. To +sit beside him, with his hand in mine, and my head on his shoulder, is +heaven to me. To obey him is my duty; to serve him is my pleasure. To +be loved by him is the only good thing which God has given me on earth. +Now, Ziska, you will know why I cannot be your wife." Still she stood +before him, and still she looked up into his face, keeping her gaze +upon him even after her words were finished. + +<p>"Accursed Jew!" said Ziska. + +<p>"That is right, Ziska; curse him; it is so easy." + +<p>"And you too will be cursed — here and hereafter. If you marry a Jew you +will be accursed to all eternity." + +<p>"That, too, is very easy to say." + +<p>"It is not I who say it. The priest will tell you the same." + +<p>"Let him tell me so; it is his business, but it is not yours. You say +it because you cannot have what you want yourself; that is all. When +shall I call in the Ross Markt for the papers?" In the Ross Markt was +the house of business of Karil Zamenoy, and there, as Nina well knew, +were kept the documents which she was so anxious to obtain. But the +demand at this moment was made simply with the object of vexing Ziska, +and urging him on to further anger. + +<p>"Unless you will give up Anton Trendellsohn, you had better not come to +the Ross Markt." + +<p>"I will never give him up." + +<p>"We will see. Perhaps he will give you up after a while. It will be a +fine thing to be jilted by a Jew." + +<p>"The Jew, at any rate, shall not be jilted by the Christian. And now, +if you please, I will ask you to go. I do not choose to be insulted in +father's house. It is his house still." + +<p>"Nina, I will give you one more chance." + +<p>"You can give me no chance that will do you or me any good. If you will +go, that is all I want of you now." + +<p>For a moment or two Ziska stood in doubt as to what he would next do +or say. Then he took up his hat and went away without another word. On +that same evening some one rang the bell at the door of the house in +the Windberg-gasse in a most humble manner — with that weak, hesitating +hand which, by the tone which it produces, seems to insinuate that no +one need hurry to answer such an appeal, and that the answer, when +made, may be made by the lowest personage in the house. In this +instance, however, Lotta Luxa did answer the bell, and not the stout +Bohemian girl who acted in the household of Madame Zamenoy as assistant +and fag to Lotta. And Lotta found Nina at the door, enveloped in her +cloak. "Lotta," she said, "will you kindly give this to my cousin +Ziska?" Then, not waiting for a word, she started away so quickly that +Lotta had not a chance of speaking to her, no power of uttering an +audible word of abuse. When Ziska opened the parcel thus brought to +him, he found it to contain all the notes which he had given to Josef +Balatka. +<br> +<br> +<a name="chapt4"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> +</center> + +<p>When Nina returned to her father after Ziska's departure, a very few +words made everything clear between them. "I would not have him if +there was not another man in the world," Nina had said. "He thinks that +it is only Anton Trendellsohn that prevents it, but he knows nothing +about what a girl feels. He thinks that because we are poor I am to be +bought, this way or that way, by a little money. Is that a man, father, +that any girl can love?" Then the father had confessed his receipt of +the bank-notes from Ziska, and we already know to what result that +confession had led. + +<p>Till she had delivered her packet into the hands of Lotta Luxa, she +maintained her spirits by the excitement of the thing she was doing. +Though she should die in the streets of hunger, she would take no money +from Ziska Zamenoy. But the question now was not only of her wants, but +of her father's. That she, for herself, would be justified in returning +Ziska's money there could be no doubt; but was she equally justified in +giving back money that had been given to her father? As she walked to +the Windberg-gasse, still holding the parcel of notes in her hand, she +had no such qualms of conscience; but as she returned, when it was +altogether too late for repentance, she made pictures to herself of +terrible scenes in which her father suffered all the pangs of want, +because she had compelled him to part with this money. If she were to +say one word to Anton Trendellsohn, all her trouble on that head would +be over. Anton Trendellsohn would at once give her enough to satisfy +their immediate wants. In a month or two, when she would be Anton's +wife, she would not be ashamed to take everything from his hand; and +why should she be ashamed now to take something from him to whom she +was prepared to give everything? But she was ashamed to do so. She felt +that she could not go to him and ask him for bread. One other resource +she had. There remained to her of her mother's property a necklace, +which was all that was left to her from her mother. And when this +had been given to her at her mother's death, she had been specially +enjoined not to part with it. Her father then had been too deeply +plunged in grief to say any words on such a subject, and the gift had +been put into her hands by her aunt Sophie. Even aunt Sophie had been +softened at that moment, and had shown some tenderness to the orphan +child. "You are to keep it always for her sake," aunt Sophie had said; +and Nina had hitherto kept the trinket, when all other things were +gone, in remembrance of her mother. She had hitherto reconciled herself +to keeping her little treasure, when all other things were going, by +the sacredness of the deposit; and had told herself that even for her +father's sake she must not part with the gift which had come to her +from her mother. But now she comforted herself by the reflection that +the necklace would produce for her enough to repay her father that +present from Ziska which she had taken from him. Her father had pleaded +sorely to be allowed to keep the notes. In her emotion at the moment +she had been imperative with him, and her resolution had prevailed. But +she thought of his entreaties as she returned home, and of his poverty +and wants, and she determined that the necklace should go. It would +produce for her at any rate as much as Ziska had given. She wished that +she had brought it with her, as she passed the open door of a certain +pawnbroker, which she had entered often during the last six months, and +whither she intended to take her treasure, so that she might comfort +her father on her return with the sight of the money. But she had it +not, and she went home empty-handed. "And now, Nina, I suppose we may +starve," said her father, whom she found sitting close to the stove in +the kitchen, while Souchey was kneeling before it, putting in at the +little open door morsels of fuel which were lamentably insufficient for +the poor man's purpose of raising a fire. The weather, indeed, was as +yet warm — so warm that in the middle of the day the heat was matter of +complaint to Josef Balatka; but in the evening he would become chill; +and as there existed some small necessity for cooking, he would beg +that he might thus enjoy the warmth of the kitchen. + +<p>"Yes, we shall starve now," said Souchey, complacently. "There is not +much doubt about our starving." + +<p>"Souchey, I wonder you should speak like that before father," said +Nina. + +<p>"And why shouldn't he speak?" said Balatka. "I think he has as much +right as any one." + +<p>"He has no right to make things worse than they are." + +<p>"I don't know how I could do that, Nina," said the servant. "What made +you take that money back to your aunt?" + +<p>"I didn't take it back to my aunt." + +<p>"Well, to any of the family then? I suppose it came from your aunt?" + +<p>"It came from my cousin Ziska, and I thought it better to give it back. +Souchey, do not you come in between father and me. There are troubles +enough; do not you make them worse." + +<p>"If I had been here you should never have taken it back again," said +Souchey, obstinately. + +<p>"Father," said Nina, appealing to the old man, "how could I have kept +it? You knew why it was given." + +<p>"Who is to help us if we may not take it from them?" + +<p>"To-morrow," said Nina, "I can get as much as he brought. And I will, +and you shall see it." + +<p>"Who will give it you, Nina?" + +<p>"Never mind, father, I will have it." + +<p>"She will beg it from her Jew lover," said Souchey. + +<p>"Souchey," said she, with her eyes flashing fire at him, "if you cannot +treat your master's daughter better than that, you may as well go." + +<p>"Is it not true?" demanded Souchey. + +<p>"No, it is not true; it is false. I have never taken money from Anton; +nor shall I do so till we are married." + +<p>"And that will be never," said Souchey. "It is as well to speak out at +once. The priest will not let it be done." + +<p>"All the priests in Prague cannot hinder it," said Nina. + +<p>"That is true," said Balatka. + +<p>"We shall see," said Souchey. "And in the mean time what is the good +of fighting with the Zamenoys? They are your only friends, Nina, and +therefore you take delight in quarrelling with them. When people have +money, they should be allowed to have a little pride." Nina said +nothing further on the occasion, though Souchey and her father went +on grumbling for an hour. She discovered, however, from various words +that her father allowed to fall from him, that his opposition to her +marriage had nearly faded away. It seemed to be his opinion that if she +were to marry the Jew, the sooner she did it the better. Now, Nina was +determined that she would marry the Jew, though heaven and earth should +meet in consequence. She would marry him if he would marry her. They +had told her that the Jew would jilt her. She did not put much faith in +the threat; but even that was more probable than that she should jilt +him. + +<p>On the following morning Souchey, in return, as it were, for his +cruelty to his young mistress on the preceding day, produced some small +store of coin which he declared to be the result of a further sale of +the last relics of his master's property; and Nina's journey with the +necklace to the pawnbroker was again postponed. That day and the next +were passed in the old house without anything to make them memorable +except their wearisome misery, and then Nina again went out to visit +the Jews' quarter. She told herself that she was taken there by the +duties of her position; but in truth she could hardly bear her life +without the comfort of seeing the only person who would speak kindly +to her. She was engaged to marry this man, but she did not know when +she was to be married. She would ask no question of her lover on that +matter; but she could tell him — and she felt herself bound to tell him + — what was really her own position, and also all that she knew of his +affairs. He had given her to understand that he could not marry her +till he had obtained possession of certain documents which he believed +to be in the possession of her uncle. And for these documents she, with +his permission, had made application. She had at any rate discovered +that they certainly were at the office in the Ross Markt. So much she +had learned from Ziska; and so much, at any rate, she was bound to make +known to her lover. And, moreover, since she had seen him she had told +all her relatives of her engagement. They all knew now that she loved +the Jew, and that she had resolved to marry him; and of this also it +was her duty to give him tidings. The result of her communication to +her father and her relatives in the Windberg-gasse had been by no means +so terrible as she had anticipated. The heavens and the earth had not +as yet shown any symptoms of coming together. Her aunt, indeed, had +been very angry; and Lotta Luxa and Souchey had told her that such a +marriage would not be allowed. Ziska, too, had said some sharp words; +and her father, for the first day or two, had expostulated. But the +threats had been weak threats, and she did not find herself to be +annihilated — indeed, hardly to be oppressed — by the scolding of any +of them. What the priest might say she had not yet experienced; but +opposition from other quarters had not as yet come upon her in any +form that was not endurable. Her aunt had intended to consume her with +wrath, but Nina had not found herself to be consumed. All this it was +necessary that she should tell to Anton Trendellsohn. It was grievous +to her that it should be always her lot to go to her lover, and that he +should never — almost never — be able to seek her. It would in truth be +never now, unless she could induce her father to receive Anton openly +as his acknowledged future son-in-law; and she could hardly hope that +her father would yield so far as that. Other girls, she knew, stayed +till their lovers came to them, or met them abroad in public places — at +the gardens and music-halls, or perhaps at church; but no such joys as +these were within reach of Nina. The public gardens, indeed, were open +to her and to Anton Trendellsohn as they were to others; but she knew +that she would not dare to be seen in public with her Jew lover till +the thing was done and she and the Jew had become man and wife. On this +occasion, before she left her home, she was careful to tell her father +where she was going. "Have you any message to the Trendellsohns?" she +asked. + +<p>"So you are going there again?" her father said. + +<p>"Yes, I must see them. I told you that I had a commission from them to +the Zamenoys, which I have performed, and I must let them know what I +did. Besides, father, if this man is to be my husband, is it not well +that I should see him?" Old Balatka groaned, but said nothing further, +and Nina went forth to the Jews' quarter. + +<p>On this occasion she found Trendellsohn the elder standing at the door +of his own house. + +<p>"You want to see Anton," said the Jew. "Anton is out. He is away +somewhere in the city — on business." + +<p>"I shall be glad to see you, father, if you can spare me a minute." + +<p>"Certainly, my child — an hour if it will serve you. Hours are not +scarce with me now, as they used to be when I was Anton's age, and as +they are with him now. Hours, and minutes too, are very scarce with +Anton in these days. Then he led the way up the dark stairs to the +sitting-room, and Nina followed him. Nina and the elder Trendellsohn +had always hitherto been friends. Before her engagement with his son +they had been affectionate friends, and since that had been made known +to him there had been no quarrel between them. But the old man had +hardly approved of his son's purpose, thinking that a Jew should look +for the wife of his bosom among his own people, and thinking also, +perhaps, that one who had so much of worldly wealth to offer as his +son should receive something also of the same in his marriage. Old +Trendellsohn had never uttered a word of complaint to Nina — had said +nothing to make her suppose that she was not welcome to the house; but +he had never spoken to her with happy, joy-giving words, as the future +bride of his son. He still called her his daughter, as he had done +before; but he did it only in his old fashion, using the affectionate +familiarity of an old friend to a young maiden. He was a small, aged +man, very thin and meagre in aspect — so meagre as to conceal in part, +by the general tenuity of his aspect, the shortness of his stature. +He was not even so tall as Nina, as Nina had discovered, much to her +surprise. His hair was grizzled, rather than grey, and the beard on his +thin, wiry, wizened face was always close shorn. He was scrupulously +clean in his person, and seemed, even at his age, to take a pride in +the purity and fineness of his linen. He was much older than Nina's +father — more than ten years older, as he would sometimes boast; but he +was still strong and active, while Nina's father was worn out with age. +Old Trendellsohn was eighty, and yet he would be seen trudging about +through the streets of Prague, intent upon his business of money-making; +and it was said that his son Anton was not even as yet actually in +partnership with him, or fully trusted by him in all his plans. + +<p>"Father," Nina said, "I am glad that Anton is out, as now I can speak a +word to you." + +<p>"My dear, you shall speak fifty words." + +<p>"That is very good of you. Of course I know that the house we live in +does in truth belong to you and Anton." + +<p>"Yes, it belongs to me," said the Jew. + +<p>"And we can pay no rent for it." + +<p>"Is it of that you have come to speak, Nina? If so, do not trouble +yourself. For certain reasons, which Anton can explain, I am willing +that your father should live there without rent." + +<p>Nina blushed as she found herself compelled to thank the Jew for his +charity. "I know how kind you have been to father," she said. + +<p>"Nay, my daughter, there has been no great kindness in it. Your father +has been unfortunate, and, Jew as I am, I would not turn him into the +street. Do not trouble yourself to think of it." + +<p>"But it was not altogether about that, father. Anton spoke to me the +other day about some deeds which should belong to you." + +<p>"They do belong to me," said Trendellsohn. + +<p>"But you have them not in your own keeping." + +<p>"No, we have not. It is, I believe, the creed of a Christian that +he may deal dishonestly with a Jew, though the Jew who shall deal +dishonestly with a Christian is to be hanged. It is strange what +latitude men will give themselves under the cloak of their religion! +But why has Anton spoken to you of this? I did not bid him." + +<p>"He sent me with a message to my aunt Sophie." + +<p>"He was wrong; he was very foolish; he should have gone himself." + +<p>"But, father, I have found out that the papers you want are certainly +in my uncle's keeping in the Ross Markt." + +<p>"Of course they are, my dear. Anton might have known that without +employing you." + +<p>So far Nina had performed but a small part of the task which she had +before her. She found it easier to talk to the old man about the +title-deeds of the house in the Kleinseite than she did to tell him of +her own affairs. But the thing was to be done, though the doing of it +was difficult; and, after a pause, she persevered. "And I told aunt +Sophie," she said, with her eyes turned upon the ground, "of my +engagement with Anton." + +<p>"You did?" + +<p>"Yes; and I told father." + +<p>"And what did your father say?" + +<p>"Father did not say much. He is poorly and weak." + +<p>"Yes, yes; not strong enough to fight against the abomination of a Jew +son-in-law. And what did your aunt say? She is strong enough to fight +anybody." + +<p>"She was very angry." + +<p>"I suppose so, I suppose so. Well, she is right. As the world goes in +Prague, my child, you will degrade yourself by marrying a Jew." + +<p>"I want nothing prouder than to be Anton's wife," said Nina. + +<p>"And to speak sooth," said the old man, "the Jew will degrade himself +fully as much by marrying you." + +<p>"Father, I would not have that. If I thought that my love would injure +him, I would leave him." + +<p>"He must judge for himself," said Trendellsohn, relenting somewhat. + +<p>"He must judge for himself and for me too," said Nina. + +<p>"He will be able, at any rate, to keep a house over your head." + +<p>"It is not for that," said Nina, thinking of her cousin Ziska's offer. +She need not want for a house and money if she were willing to sell +herself for such things as them. + +<p>"Anton will be rich, Nina, and you are very poor." + +<p>"Can I help that, father? Such as I am, I am his. If all Prague were +mine I would give it to him." + +<p>The old man shook his head. "A Christian thinks that it is too much +honour for a Jew to marry a Christian, though he be rich, and she have +not a ducat for her dower." + +<p>"Father, your words are cruel. Do you believe I would give Anton my +hand if I did not love him? I do not know much of his wealth; but, +father, I might be the promised wife of a Christian to-morrow, who is, +perhaps, as rich as he — if that were anything." + +<p>"And who is that other lover, Nina?" + +<p>"It matters not. He can be nothing to me — nothing in that way. I love +Anton Trendellsohn, and I could not be the wife of any other but him." + +<p>"I wish it were otherwise. I tell you so plainly to your face. I wish +it were otherwise. Jews and Christians have married in Prague, I know, +but good has never come of it. Anton should find a wife among his own +people; and you — it would be better for you to take that other offer of +which you spoke." + +<p>"It is too late, father." + +<p>"No, Nina, it is not too late. If Anton would be wise, it is not too +late." + +<p>"Anton can do as he pleases. It is too late for me. If Anton thinks it +well to change his mind, I shall not reproach him. You can tell him so, +father — from me." + +<p>"He knows my mind already, Nina. I will tell him, however, what you say +of your own friends. They have heard of your engagement, and are angry +with you, of course." + +<p>"Aunt Sophie and her people are angry." + +<p>"Of course they will oppose it. They will set their priests at you, and +frighten you almost to death. They will drive the life out of your +young heart with their curses. You do not know what sorrows are before +you." + +<p>"I can bear all that. There is only one sorrow that I fear. If Anton is +true to me, I will not mind all the rest." + +<p>The old man's heart was softened towards her. He could not bring +himself to say a word to her of direct encouragement, but he kissed her +before she went, telling her that she was a good girl, and bidding her +have no care as to the house in the Kleinseite. As long as he lived, +and her father, her father should not be disturbed. And as for deeds, +he declared, with something of a grim smile on his old visage, that +though a Jew had always a hard fight to get his own from a Christian, +the hard fighting did generally prevail at last. "We shall get them, +Nina, when they have put us to such trouble and expense as their +laws may be able to devise. Anton knows that as well as I do." + +<p>At the door of the house Nina found the old man's grand-daughter +waiting for her. Ruth Jacobi was the girl's name, and she was the +orphaned child of a daughter of old Trendellsohn. Father and mother +were both dead; and of her father, who had been dead long, Ruth had +no memory. But she still wore some remains of the black garments which +had been given to her at her mother's funeral; and she still grieved +bitterly for her mother, having no woman with her in that gloomy house, +and no other child to comfort her. Her grandfather and her uncle were +kind to her — kind after their own gloomy fashion; but it was a sad +house for a young girl, and Ruth, though she knew nothing of any better +abode, found the days to be very long, and the months to be very +wearisome. + +<p>"What has he been saying to you, Nina?" the girl asked, taking hold of +her friend's dress, to prevent her escape into the street. "You need +not be in a hurry for a minute. He will not come down." + +<p>"I am not afraid of him. Ruth." + +<p>"I am, then. But perhaps he is not cross to you." + +<p>"Why should he be cross to me?" + +<p>"I know why, Nina, but I will not say. Uncle Anton has been out all the +day, and was not home to dinner. It is much worse when he is away." + +<p>"Is Anton ever cross to you, Ruth?" + +<p>"Indeed he is — sometimes. He scolds much more than grandfather. But he +is younger, you know." + +<p>"Yes; he is younger, certainly." + +<p>"Not but what he is very old, too; much too old for you, Nina. When I +have a lover I will never have an old man." + +<p>"But Anton is not old." + +<p>"Not like grandfather, of course. But I should like a lover who would +laugh and be gay. Uncle Anton is never gay. My lover shall be only two +years older than myself. Uncle Anton must be twenty years older than +you, Nina." + +<p>"Not more than ten — or twelve at the most." + +<p>"He is too old to laugh and dance." + +<p>"Not at all, dear; but he thinks of other things." + +<p>"I should like a lover to think of the things that I think about. It is +all very well being steady when you have got babies of your own; but +that should be after ever so long. I should like to keep my lover as a +lover for two years. And all that time he should like to dance with me, +and to hear music, and to go about just where I would like to go." + +<p>"And what then, Ruth?" + +<p>"Then? Why, then I suppose I should marry him, and become stupid like +the rest. But I should have the two years to look back at and to +remember. Do you think, Nina, that you will ever come and live here +when you are married?" + +<p>"I do not know that I shall ever be married, Ruth." + +<p>"But you mean to marry uncle Anton?" + +<p>"I cannot say. It may be so." + +<p>"But you love him, Nina?" + +<p>"Yes, I love him. I love him with all my heart. I love him better than +all the world besides. Ruth, you cannot tell how I love him. I would +lie down and die if he were to bid me." + +<p>"He will never bid you do that." + +<p>"You think that he is old, and dull, and silent, and cross. But when he +will sit still and not say a word to me for an hour together, I think +that I almost love him the best. I only want to be near him, Ruth." + +<p>"But you do not like him to be cross." + +<p>"Yes, I do. That is, I like him to scold me if he is angry. If he were +angry, and did not scold a little, I should think that he was really +vexed with me." + +<p>"Then you must be very much in love, Nina?" + +<p>"I am in love — very much." + +<p>"And does it make you happy?" + +<p>"Happy! Happiness depends on so many things. But it makes me feel that +there can only be one real unhappiness; and unless that should come to +me, I shall care for nothing. Good-bye, love. Tell your uncle that I +was here, and say — say to him when no one else can hear, that I went +away with a sad heart because I had not seen him." + +<p>It was late in the evening when Anton Trendellsohn came home, but Ruth +remembered the message that had been intrusted to her, and managed to +find a moment in which to deliver it. But her uncle took it amiss, and +scolded her. "You two have been talking nonsense together here half the +day, I suppose." + +<p>"I spoke to her for five minutes, uncle; that was all." + +<p>"Did you do your lessons with Madame Pulsky?" + +<p>"Yes, I did, uncle — of course. You know that." + +<p>"I know that it is a pity you should not be better looked after." + +<p>"Bring Nina home here and she will look after me." + +<p>"Go to bed, miss — at once, do you hear?" + +<p>Then Ruth went off to her bed, wondering at Nina's choice, and +declaring to herself, that if ever she took in hand a lover at all, he +should be a lover very different from her uncle, Anton Trendellsohn. +<br> +<br> +<a name="chapt5"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER V</h3> +</center> + +<p>The more Madame Zamenoy thought of the terrible tidings which had +reached her, the more determined did she become to prevent the +degradation of the connection with which she was threatened. She +declared to her husband and son that all Prague were already talking +of the horror, forgetting, perhaps, that any knowledge which Prague had +on the subject must have come from herself. She had, indeed, consulted +various persons on the subject in the strictest confidence. We have +already seen that she had told Lotta Luxa and her son, and she had, of +course, complained frequently on the matter to her husband. She had +unbosomed herself to one or two trusty female friends who lived near +her, and she had applied for advice and assistance to two priests. +To Father Jerome she had gone as Nina's confessor, and she had also +applied to the reverend pastor who had the charge of her own little +peccadilloes. The small amount of assistance which her clerical allies +offered to her had surprised her very much. She had, indeed, gone so +far as to declare to Lotta that she was shocked by their indifference. +Her own confessor had simply told her that the matter was in the hands +of Father Jerome, as far as it could be said to belong to the Church at +all; and had satisfied his conscience by advising his dear friend to +use all the resources which female persecution put at her command. "You +will frighten her out of it, Madame Zamenoy, if you go the right way +about it," said the priest. Madame Zamenoy was well inclined to go the +right way about it, if she only knew how. She would make Nina's life a +burden to her if she could only get hold of the girl, and would scruple +at no threats as to this world or the next. But she thought that her +priest ought to have done more for her in such a crisis than simply +giving her such ordinary counsel. Things were not as they used to be, +she knew; but there was even yet something of the prestige of power +left to the Church, and there were convents with locks and bars, and +excommunication might still be made terrible, and public opinion, in +the shape of outside persecution, might, as Madame Zamenoy thought, +have been brought to bear. Nor did she get much more comfort from +Father Jerome. His reliance was placed chiefly on operations to be +carried on with the Jew; and, failing them, on the opposition which +the Jew would experience among his own people. "They think more of it +than we do," said Father Jerome. + +<p>"How can that be, Father Jerome?" + +<p>"Well, they do. He would lose caste among all his friends by such a +marriage, and would, I think, destroy all his influence among them. +When he perceives this more fully he will be shy enough about it +himself. Besides, what is he to get?" + +<p>"He will get nothing." + +<p>"He will think better of it. And you might manage something with those +deeds. Of course he should have them sooner or later, but they might be +surrendered as the price of his giving her up. I should say it might be +managed." + +<p>All this was not comfortable for Madame Zamenoy; and she fretted and +fumed till her husband had no peace in his house, and Ziska almost +wished that he might hear no more of the Jew and his betrothal. She +could not even commence her system of persecution, as Nina did not go +near her, and had already told Lotta Luxa that she must decline to +discuss the question of her marriage any further. So, at last, Madame +Zamenoy found herself obliged to go over in person to the house in the +Kleinseite. Such visits had for many years been very rare with her. +Since her sister's death and the days in which the Balatkas had been +prosperous, she had preferred that all intercourse between the two +families should take place at her own house; and thus, as Josef Balatka +himself rarely left his own door, she had not seen him for more than +two years. Frequent intercourse, however, had been maintained, and aunt +Sophie knew very well how things were going on in the Kleinseite. Lotta +had no compunctions as to visiting the house, and Lotta's eyes were +very sharp. And Nina had been frequently in the Windberg-gasse, having +hitherto believed it to be her duty to attend to her aunt's behests. +But Nina was no longer obedient, and Madame Zamenoy was compelled to +go herself to her brother-in-law, unless she was disposed to leave the +Balatkas absolutely to their fate. Let her do what she would, Nina must +be her niece, and therefore she would yet make a struggle. + +<p>On this occasion Madame Zamenoy walked on foot, thinking that her +carriage and horses might be too conspicuous at the arched gate in +the little square. The carriage did not often make its way over the +bridge into the Kleinseite, being used chiefly among the suburbs of the +New Town, where it was now well known and quickly recognised; and she +did not think that this was a good opportunity for breaking into new +ground with her equipage. She summoned Lotta to attend her, and after +her one o'clock dinner took her umbrella in her hand and went forth. +She was a stout woman, probably not more than forty-five years of age, +but a little heavy, perhaps from too much indulgence with her carriage. +She walked slowly, therefore; and Lotta, who was nimble of foot and +quick in all her ways, thanked her stars that it did not suit her +mistress to walk often through the city. + +<p>"How very long the bridge is, Lotta!" said Madame Zamenoy. + +<p>"Not longer, ma'am, than it always has been," said Lotta, pertly. + +<p>"Of course it is not longer than it always has been; I know that; but +still I say it is very long. Bridges are not so long in other places." + +<p>"Not where the rivers are narrower," said Lotta. Madame Zamenoy trudged +on, finding that she could get no comfort from her servant, and at last +reached Balatka's door. Lotta, who was familiar with the place, entered +the house first, and her mistress followed her. Hanging about the broad +passage which communicated with all the rooms on the ground-floor, they +found Souchey, who told them that his master was in bed, and that Nina +was at work by his bedside. He was sent in to announce the grand +arrival, and when Madame Zamenoy entered the sitting-room Nina was +there to meet her. + +<p>"Child," she said, "I have come to see your father." + +<p>"Father is in bed, but you can come in," said Nina. + +<p>"Of course I can go in," said Madame Zamenoy, "but before I go in let +me know this. Has he heard of the disgrace which you purpose to bring +upon him?" + +<p>Nina drew herself up and made no answer; whereupon Lotta spoke. "The +old gentleman knows all about it, ma'am, as well as you do." + +<p>"Lotta, let the child speak for herself. Nina, have you had the +audacity to tell your father — that which you told me?" + +<p>"I have told him everything," said Nina; "will you come into his room?" +Then Madame Zamenoy lifted up the hem of her garment and stepped +proudly into the old man's chamber. + +<p>By this time Balatka knew what was about to befall him, and was making +himself ready for the visit. He was well aware that he should be sorely +perplexed as to what he should say in the coming interview. He could +not speak lightly of such an evil as this marriage with a Jew; nor when +his sister-in-law should abuse the Jews could he dare to defend them. +But neither could he bring himself to say evil words of Nina, or to +hear evil words spoken of her without making some attempt to screen +her. It might be best, perhaps, to lie under the bed-clothes and say +nothing, if only his sister-in-law would allow him to lie there. "Am +I to come in with you, aunt Sophie?" said Nina. "Yes child," said the +aunt; "come and hear what I have to say to your father." So Nina +followed her aunt, and Lotta and Souchey were left in the sitting-room. + +<p>"And how are you, Souchey?" said Lotta, with unusual kindness of tone. +"I suppose you are not so busy but you can stay with me a few minutes +while she is in there?" + +<p>"There is not so much to do that I cannot spare the time," said +Souchey. + +<p>"Nothing to do, I suppose, and less to get?" said Lotta. + +<p>"That's about it, Lotta; but you wouldn't have had me leave them?" + +<p>"A man has to look after himself in the world; but you were always +easy-minded, Souchey." + +<p>"I don't know about being so easy-minded. I know what would make me +easy-minded enough." + +<p>"You'll have to be servant to a Jew now." + +<p>"No; I'll never be that." + +<p>"I suppose he gives you something at odd times?" + +<p>"Who? Trendellsohn? I never saw the colour of his money yet, and do not +wish to see it." + +<p>"But he comes here — sometimes?" + +<p>"Never, Lotta. I haven't seen Anton Trendellsohn within the doors these +six months." + +<p>"But she goes to him?" + +<p>"Yes; she goes to him." + +<p>"That's worse — a deal worse." + +<p>"I told her how it was when I saw her trotting off so often to the +Jews' quarter. 'You see too much of Anton Trendellsohn,' I said to her; +but it didn't do any good." + +<p>"You should have come to us, and have told us." + +<p>"What, Madame there? I could never have brought myself to that; she is +so upsetting, Lotta." + +<p>"She is upsetting, no doubt; but she don't upset me. Why didn't you +tell me, Souchey?" + +<p>"Well, I thought that if I said a word to her, perhaps that would be +enough. Who could believe that she would throw herself at once into a +Jew's arms — such a fellow as Anton Trendellsohn, too, old enough to be +her father, and she the bonniest girl in all Prague?" + +<p>"Handsome is that handsome does, Souchey." + +<p>"I say she's the sweetest girl in all Prague; and more's the pity she +should have taken such a fancy as this." + +<p>"She mustn't marry him, of course, Souchey." + +<p>"Not if it can be helped, Lotta." + +<p>"It must be helped. You and I must help it, if no one else can do so." + +<p>"That's easy said, Lotta." + +<p>"We can do it, if we are minded — that is, if you are minded. Only think +what a thing it would be for her to be the wife of a Jew! Think of her +soul, Souchey!" + +<p>Souchey shuddered. He did not like being told of people's souls, +feeling probably that the misfortunes of this world were quite +heavy enough for a poor wight like himself, without any addition in +anticipation of futurity. "Think of her soul, Souchey," repeated Lotta, +who was at all points a good churchwoman. + +<p>"It's bad enough any way," said Souchey. + +<p>"And there's our Ziska would take her to-morrow in spite of the Jew." + +<p>"Would he now?" + +<p>"That he would, without anything but what she stands up in. And he'd +behave very handsome to anyone that would help him." + +<p>"He'd be the first of his name that ever did, then. I have known the +time when old Balatka there, poor as he is now, would give a florin +when Karil Zamenoy begrudged six kreutzers." + +<p>"And what has come of such giving? Josef Balatka is poor, and Karil +Zamenoy bids fair to be as rich as any merchant in Prague. But no +matter about that. Will you give a helping hand? There is nothing I +wouldn't do for you, Souchey, if we could manage this between us." + +<p>"Would you now?" And Souchey drew near, as though some closer bargain +might be practicable between them. + +<p>"I would indeed; but, Souchey, talking won't do it." + +<p>"What will do it?" + +<p>Lotta paused a moment, looking round the room carefully, till suddenly +her eyes fell on a certain article which lay on Nina's work-table. +"What am I to do?" said Souchey, anxious to be at work with the +prospect of so great a reward. + +<p>"Never mind," said Lotta, whose tone of voice was suddenly changed. +"Never mind it now at least. And, Souchey, I think you'd better +go to your work. We've been gossiping here ever so long." + +<p>"Perhaps five minutes; and what does it signify?" + +<p>"She'd think it so odd to find us here together in the parlour." + +<p>"Not odd at all." + +<p>"Just as though we'd been listening to what they'd been saying. Go now, +Souchey — there's a good fellow; and I'll come again the day after +to-morrow and tell you. Go, I say. There are things that I must think of +by myself." And in this way she got Souchey to leave the room. + +<p>"Josef," said Madame Zamenoy, as she took her place standing by +Balatka's bedside — "Josef, this is very terrible." Nina also was +standing close by her father's head, with her hand upon her father's +pillow. Balatka groaned, but made no immediate answer. + +<p>"It is terrible, horrible, abominable, and damnable," said Madame +Zamenoy, bringing out one epithet after the other with renewed energy. +Balatka groaned again. What could he say in reply to such an address? + +<p>"Aunt Sophie," said Nina, "do not speak to father like that. He is +ill." + +<p>"Child," said Madame Zamenoy, "I shall speak as I please. I shall speak +as my duty bids me speak. Josef, this that I hear is very terrible. It +is hardly to be believed that any Christian girl should think of +marrying — a Jew." + +<p>"What can I do?" said the father. "How can I prevent her?" + +<p>"How can you prevent her, Josef? Is she not your daughter? Does she +mean to say, standing there, that she will not obey her father? Tell +me. Nina, will you or will you not obey your father?" + +<p>"That is his affair, aunt Sophie; not yours." + +<p>"His affair! It is his affair, and my affair, and all our affairs. +Impudent girl! — brazen-faced, impudent, bad girl! Do you not know that +you would bring disgrace upon us all?" + +<p>"You are thinking about yourself, aunt Sophie; and I must think for +myself." + +<p>"You do not regard your father, then?" + +<p>"Yes, I do regard my father. He knows that I regard him. Father, is it +true that I do not regard you?" + +<p>"She is a good daughter," said the father. + +<p>"A good daughter, and talk of marrying a Jew!" said Madame Zamenoy. +"Has she your permission for such a marriage? Tell me that at once, +Josef, that I may know. Has she your sanction for — for — for this +accursed abomination?" Then there was silence in the room for a few +moments. "You can at any rate answer a plain question, Josef," +continued Madame Zamenoy. "Has Nina your leave to betroth herself to +the Jew, Trendellsohn?" + +<p>"No, I have not got his leave," said Nina. + +<p>"I am speaking to your father, miss," said the enraged aunt. + +<p>"Yes; you are speaking very roughly to father, and he is ill. Therefore +I answer for him." + +<p>"And has he not forbidden you to think of marrying this Jew?" + +<p>"No, he has not," said Nina. + +<p>"Josef, answer for yourself like a man," said Madame Zamenoy. "Have you +not forbidden this marriage? Do you not forbid it now? Let me at any +rate hear you say that you have forbidden it." But Balatka found +silence to be his easiest course, and answered not at all. "What am I +to think of this?" continued Madame Zamenoy. "It cannot be that you +wish your child to be the wife of a Jew!" + +<p>"You are to think, aunt Sophie, that father is ill, and that he cannot +stand against your violence." + +<p>"Violence, you wicked girl! It is you that are violent." + +<p>"Will you come out into the parlour, aunt?" + +<p>"No, I will not come out into the parlour. I will not stir from +this spot till I have told your father all that I think about it. +Ill, indeed! What matters illness when it is a question of eternal +damnation!" Madame Zamenoy put so much stress upon the latter word +that her brother-in-law almost jumped from under the bed-clothes. Nina +raised herself, as she was standing, to her full height, and a smile of +derision came upon her face. "Oh, yes! I daresay you do not mind it," +said Madame Zamenoy. "I daresay you can laugh now at all the pains of +hell. Castaways such as you are always blind to their own danger; but +your father, I hope, has not fallen so far as to care nothing for his +religion, though he seems to have forgotten what is due to his family." + +<p>"I have forgotten nothing," said old Balatka. + +<p>"Why then do you not forbid her to do this thing?" demanded Madame +Zamenoy. But the old man had recognised too well the comparative +security of silence to be drawn into argument, and therefore merely hid +himself more completely among the clothes. "Am I to get no answer from +you, Josef?" said Madame Zamenoy. No answer came, and therefore she was +driven to turn again upon Nina. + +<p>"Why are you doing this thing, you poor deluded creature? Is it the +man's money that tempts you?" + +<p>"It is not the man's money. If money could tempt me, I could have it +elsewhere, as you know." + +<p>"It cannot be love for such a man as that. Do you not know that he and +his father between them have robbed your father of everything?" + +<p>"I know nothing of the kind." + +<p>"They have; and he is now making a fool of you in order that he may get +whatever remains." + +<p>"Nothing remains. He will get nothing." + +<p>"Nor will you. I do not believe that after all he will ever marry you. +He will not be such a fool." + +<p>"Perhaps not, aunt; and in that case you will have your wish." + +<p>"But no one can ever speak to you again after such a condition. Do you +think that I or your uncle could have you at our house when all the +world shall know that you have been jilted by a Jew?" + +<p>"I will not trouble you by going to your house." + +<p>"And is that all the satisfaction I am to have?" + +<p>"What do you want me to say?" + +<p>"I want you to say that you will give this man up, and return to your +duty as a Christian." + +<p>"I will never give him up — never. I would sooner die." + +<p>"Very well. Then I shall know how to act. You will not be a bit nearer +marrying him; I can promise you that. You are mistaken if you think +that in such a matter as this a girl like you can do just as she +pleases." Then she turned again upon the poor man in bed. "Josef +Balatka, I am ashamed of you. I am indeed — I am ashamed of you." + +<p>"Aunt Sophie," said Nina, "now that you are here, you can say what you +please to me; but you might as well spare father." + +<p>"I will not spare him. I am ashamed of him — thoroughly ashamed of him. +What can I think of him when he will lie there and not say a word to +save his daughter from the machinations of a filthy Jew?" + +<p>"Anton Trendellsohn is not a filthy Jew." + +<p>"He is a robber. He has cheated your father out of everything." + +<p>"He is no robber. He has cheated no one. I know who has cheated father, +if you come to that." + +<p>"Whom do you mean, hussey?" + +<p>"I shall not answer you; but you need not tell me any more about the +Jews cheating us. Christians can cheat as well as Jews, and can rob +from their own flesh and blood too. I do not care for your threats, +aunt Sophie, nor for your frowns. I did care for them, but you have +said that which makes it impossible that I should regard them any +further." + +<p>"And this is what I get for all my trouble — for all your uncle's +generosity!" Again Nina smiled. "But I suppose the Jew gives more than +we have given, and therefore is preferred. You poor creature — poor +wretched creature!" + +<p>During all this time Balatka remained silent; and at last, after very +much more scolding, in which Madame Zamenoy urged again and again the +terrible threat of eternal punishment, she prepared herself for going. +"Lotta Luxa," she said, " — where is Lotta Luxa?" She opened the door, +and found Lotta Luxa seated demurely by the window. "Lotta," she said, +"I shall go now, and shall never come back to this unfortunate house. +You hear what I say; I shall never return here. As she makes her bed, +so must she lie on it. It is her own doing, and no one can save her. +For my part, I think that the Jew has bewitched her." + +<p>"Like enough," said Lotta. + +<p>"When once we stray from the Holy Church, there is no knowing what +terrible evils may come upon us," said Madame Zamenoy. + +<p>"No indeed, ma'am," said Lotta Luxa. + +<p>"But I have done all in my power." + +<p>"That you have, ma'am." + +<p>"I feel quite sure, Lotta, that the Jew will never marry her. Why +should a man like that, who loves money better than his soul, marry a +girl who has not a kreutzer to bless herself?" + +<p>"Why indeed, ma'am! It's my mind that he don't think of marrying her." + +<p>"And, Jew as he is, he cares for his religion. He will not bring +trouble upon everybody belonging to him by taking a Christian for his +wife." + +<p>"That he will not, ma'am, you may be sure," said Lotta. + +<p>"And where will she be then? Only fancy, Lotta — to have been jilted by +a Jew!" Then Madame Zamenoy, without addressing herself directly to +Nina, walked out of the room; but as she did so she paused in the +doorway, and again spoke to Lotta. "To be jilted by a Jew, Lotta! Think +of that." + +<p>"I should drown myself," said Lotta Luxa. And then they both were gone. + +<p>The idea that the Jew might jilt her disturbed Nina more than all her +aunt's anger, or than any threats as to the penalties she might have +to encounter in the next world. She felt a certain delight, an inward +satisfaction, in giving up everything for her Jew lover — a satisfaction +which was the more intense, the more absolute was the rejection and the +more crushing the scorn which she encountered on his behalf from her +own people. But to encounter this rejection and scorn, and then to be +thrown over by the Jew, was more than she could endure. And would it, +could it, be so? She sat down to think of it; and as she thought of it +terrible fears came upon her. Old Trendellsohn had told her that such a +marriage on his son's part would bring him into great trouble; and old +Trendellsohn was not harsh with her as her aunt was harsh. The old +man, in his own communications with her, had always been kind and +forbearing. And then Anton himself was severe to her. Though he would +now and again say some dear, well-to-be-remembered happy word, as when +he told her that she was his sun, and that he looked to her for warmth +and light, such soft speakings were few with him and far between. +And then he never mentioned any time as the probable date of their +marriage. If only a time could be fixed, let it be ever so distant, +Nina thought that she could still endure all the cutting taunts of her +enemies. But what would she do if Anton were to announce to her some +day that he found himself, as a Jew, unable to marry with her as a +Christian? In such a case she thought that she must drown herself, as +Lotta had suggested to her. + +<p>As she sat thinking of this, her eyes suddenly fell upon the one key +which she herself possessed, and which, with a woman's acuteness of +memory, she perceived to have been moved from the spot on which she had +left it. It was the key of the little desk which stood in the corner of +the parlour, and in which, on the top of all the papers, was deposited +the necklace with which she intended to relieve the immediate +necessities of their household. She at once remembered that Lotta +had been left for a long time in the room, and with anxious, quick +suspicion she went to the desk. But her suspicions had wronged Lotta. +There, lying on a bundle of letters, was the necklace, in the exact +position in which she had left it. She kissed the trinket, which had +come to her from her mother, replaced it carefully, and put the key +into her pocket. + +<p>What should she do next? How should she conduct herself in her present +circumstances? Her heart prompted her to go off at once to Anton +Trendellsohn and tell him everything; but she greatly feared that Anton +would not be glad to see her. She knew that it was not well that a girl +should run after her lover; but yet how was she to live without seeing +him? What other comfort had she? and from whom else could she look for +guidance? She declared to herself at last that she, in her position, +would not be stayed by ordinary feelings of maiden reserve. She would +tell him everything, even to the threat on which her aunt had so much +depended, and would then ask him for his counsel. She would describe +to him, if words from her could describe them, all her difficulties, +and would promise to be guided by him absolutely in everything. +"Everything," she would say to him, "I have given up for you. I am +yours entirely, body and soul. Do with me as you will." If he should +then tell her that he would not have her, that he did not want the +sacrifice, she would go away from him — and drown herself. But she would +not go to him to-day — no, not to-day; not perhaps to-morrow. It was +but a day or two as yet since she had been over at the Trendellsohns' +house, and though on that occasion she had not seen Anton, Anton of +course would know that she had been there. She did not wish him to +think that she was hunting him. She would wait yet two or three days — +till the next Sunday morning perhaps — and then she would go again to +the Jews' quarter. On the Christian Sabbath Anton was always at home, +as on that day business is suspended in Prague both for Christian and +Jew. + +<p>Then she went back to her father. He was still lying with his face +turned to the wall, and Nina, thinking that he slept, took up her work +and sat by his side. But he was awake, and watching. "Is she gone?" he +said, before her needle had been plied a dozen times. + +<p>"Aunt Sophie? Yes, father, she has gone." + +<p>"I hope she will not come again." + +<p>"She says that she will never come again." + +<p>"What is the use of her coming here? We are lost and are perishing. We +are utterly gone. She will not help us, and why should she disturb us +with her curses?" + +<p>"Father, there may be better days for us yet." + +<p>"How can there be better days when you are bringing down the Jew upon +us? Better days for yourself, perhaps, if mere eating and drinking will +serve you." + +<p>"Oh, father!" + +<p>"Have you not ruined everything with your Jew lover? Did you not hear +how I was treated? What could I say to your aunt when she stood there +and reviled us?" + +<p>"Father, I was so grateful to you for saying nothing!" + +<p>"But I knew that she was right. A Christian should not marry a Jew. She +said it was abominable; and so it is." + +<p>"Father, father, do not speak like that! I thought that you had +forgiven me. You said to aunt Sophie that I was a good daughter. Will +you not say the same to me — to me myself?" + +<p>"It is not good to love a Jew." + +<p>"I do love him, father. How can I help it now? I cannot change my +heart." + +<p>"I suppose I shall be dead soon," said old Balatka, "and then it will +not matter. You will become one of them, and I shall be forgotten." + +<p>"Father, have I ever forgotten you?" said Nina, throwing herself upon +him on his bed. "Have I not always loved you? Have I not been good to +you? Oh, father, we have been true to each other through it all. Do not +speak to me like that at last." +<br> +<br> +<a name="chapt6"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3> +</center> + +<p>Anton Trendellsohn had learned from his father that Nina had spoken to +her aunt about the title-deeds of the houses in the Kleinseite, and +that thus, in a roundabout way, a demand had been made for them. "Of +course, they will not give them up," he had said to his father. "Why +should they, unless the law makes them? They have no idea of honour or +honesty to one of us." The elder Jew had then expressed his opinion +that Josef Balatka should be required to make the demand as a matter of +business, to enforce a legal right; but to this Anton had replied that +the old man in the Kleinseite was not in a condition to act efficiently +in the matter himself. It was to him that the money had been advanced, +but to the Zamenoys that it had in truth been paid; and Anton declared +his purpose of going to Karil Zamenoy and himself making his demand. +And then there had been a discussion, almost amounting to a quarrel, +between the two Trendellsohns as to Nina Balatka. Poor Nina need not +have added another to her many causes of suffering by doubting her +lover's truth. Anton Trendellsohn, though not given to speak of his +love with that demonstrative vehemence to which Nina had trusted in her +attempts to make her friends understand that she could not be talked +out of her engagement, was nevertheless sufficiently firm in his +purpose. He was a man very constant in all his purposes, whom none +who knew him would have supposed likely to jeopardise his worldly +interests for the love of a Christian girl, but who was very little +apt to abandon aught to which he had set his hand because the voices +of those around him might be against him. He had thought much of his +position as a Jew before he had spoken of love to the penniless +Christian maiden who frequented his father's house, pleading for her +father in his poverty; but the words when spoken meant much, and Nina +need not have feared that he would forget them. He was a man not much +given to dalliance, not requiring from day to day the soft sweetness of +a woman's presence to keep his love warm; but his love could maintain +its own heat, without any softness or dalliance. Had it not been so, +such a girl as Nina would hardly have surrendered to him her whole +heart as she had done. + +<p>"You will fall into trouble about the maiden," the elder Trendellsohn +had said. + +<p>"True, father; there will be trouble enough. In what that we do is +there not trouble?" + +<p>"A man in the business of his life must encounter labour and grief and +disappointment. He should take to him a wife to give him ease in these +things, not one who will be an increase to his sorrows." + +<p>"That which is done is done." + +<p>"My son, this thing is not done." + +<p>"She has my plighted word, father. Is not that enough?" + +<p>"Nina is a good girl. I will say for her that she is very good. I have +wished that you might have brought to my house as your wife the child +of my old friend Baltazar Loth; but if that may not be, I would have +taken Nina willingly by the hand — had she been one of us." + +<p>"It may be that God will open her eyes." + +<p>"Anton, I would not have her eyes opened by anything so weak as her +love for a man. But I have said that she was good. She will hear +reason; and when she shall know that her marriage among us would bring +trouble on us, she will restrain her wishes. Speak to her, Anton, and +see if it be not so." + +<p>"Not for all the wealth which all our people own in Bohemia! Father, to +do so would be to demand, not to ask. If she love me, could she refuse +such a request were I to ask it?" + +<p>"I will speak a word to Nina, my son, and the request shall come from +her." + +<p>"And if it does, I will never yield to it. For her sake I would not +yield, for I know she loves me. Neither for my own would I yield; for +as truly as I worship God, I love her better than all the world beside. +She is to me my cup of water when I am hot and athirst, my morsel of +bread when I am faint with hunger. Her voice is the only music which I +love. The touch of her hand is so fresh that it cools me when I am in +fever. The kiss of her lips is so sweet and balmy that it cures when +I shake with an ague fit. To think of her when I am out among men +fighting for my own, is such a joy, that now, methinks now, that I have +had it belonging to me, I could no longer fight were I to lose it. No. +father; she shall not be taken from me. I love her, and I will keep +her." + +<p>Oh that Nina could have heard him! How would all her sorrows have fled +from her, and left her happy in her poverty! But Anton Trendellsohn, +though he could speak after this manner to his father, could hardly +bring himself to talk of his feelings to the woman who would have given +her eyes, could she for his sake have spared them, to hear him. Now and +again, indeed, he would say a word, and then would frown and become +gloomy, as though angry with himself for such outward womanly +expression of what he felt. As it was, the words fell upon ears which +they delighted not. "Then, my son, you will live to rue the day in +which you first saw her," said the elder Jew. "She will be a bone of +contention in your way that will separate you from all your friends. +You will become neither Jew nor Christian, and will be odious alike to +both. And she will be the same." + +<p>"Then, father, we will bear our sorrows together." + +<p>"Yes; and what happens when sorrows come from such causes? The man +learns to hate the woman who has caused them, and ill-uses her, and +feels himself to be a Cain upon the earth, condemned by all, but by +none so much as by himself. Do you think that you have strength to bear +the contempt of all those around you?" + +<p>Anton waited a moment or two before he answered, and then spoke very +slowly. "If it be necessary to bear so much, I will at least make the +effort. It may be that I shall find the strength." + +<p>"Nothing then that your father says to you avails aught?" + +<p>"Nothing, father, on that matter. You should have spoken sooner." + +<p>"Then you must go your own way. As for me, I must look for another son +to bear the burden of my years." And so they parted. + +<p>Anton Trendellsohn understood well the meaning of the old man's threat. +He was quite alive to the fact that his father had expressed his +intention to give his wealth and his standing in trade and the business +of his house to some younger Jew, who would be more true than his own +son to the traditional customs of their tribes. There was Ruth Jacobi, +his granddaughter — the only child of the house — who had already reached +an age at which she might be betrothed; and there was Samuel Loth, +the son of Baltazar Loth, old Trendellsohn's oldest friend. Anton +Trendellsohn did not doubt who might be the adopted child to be taken +to fill his place. It has been already explained that there was no +partnership actually existing between the two Trendellsohns. By degrees +the son had slipt into the father's place, and the business by which +the house had grown rich had for the last five or six years been +managed chiefly by him. But the actual results of the son's industry +and the son's thrift were still in the possession of the father. The +old man might no doubt go far towards ruining his son if he were so +minded. + +<p>Dreams of a high ambition had, from very early years, flitted across +the mind of the younger Trendellsohn till they had nearly formed +themselves into a settled purpose. He had heard of Jews in Vienna, in +Paris, and in London, who were as true to their religion as any Jew of +Prague, but who did not live immured in a Jews' quarter, like lepers +separate and alone in some loathed corner of a city otherwise clean. +These men went abroad into the world as men, using the wealth with +which their industry had been blessed, openly as the Christians used +it. And they lived among Christians as one man should live with his +fellow-men — on equal terms, giving and taking, honouring and honoured. +As yet it was not so with the Jews of Prague, who were still bound to +their old narrow streets, to their dark houses, to their mean modes +of living, and who, worst of all, were still subject to the isolated +ignominy of Judaism. In Prague a Jew was still a Pariah. Anton's father +was rich — very rich. Anton hardly knew what was the extent of his +father's wealth, but he did know that it was great. In his father's +time, however, no change could be made. He did not scruple to speak to +the old man of these things; but he spoke of them rather as dreams, or +as distant hopes, than as being the basis of any purpose of his own. +His father would merely say that the old house, looking out upon the +ancient synagogue, must last him his time, and that the changes of +which Anton spoke must be postponed — not till he died — but till such +time as he should feel it right to give up the things of this world. +Anton Trendellsohn, who knew his father well, had resolved that he +would wait patiently for everything till his father should have gone to +his last home, knowing that nothing but death would close the old man's +interest in the work of his life. But he had been content to wait — to +wait, to think, to dream, and only in part to hope. He still communed +with himself daily as to that House of Trendellsohn which might, +perhaps, be heard of in cities greater than Prague, and which might +rival in the grandeur of its wealth those mighty commercial names which +had drowned the old shame of the Jew in the new glory of their great +doings. To be a Jew in London, they had told him, was almost better +than to be a Christian, provided that he was rich, and knew the ways +of trade — was better for such purposes as were his purposes. Anton +Trendellsohn believed that he would be rich, and was sure that he knew +the ways of trade; and therefore he nursed his ambition, and meditated +what his action should be when the days of his freedom should come to +him. + +<p>Then Nina Balatka had come across his path. To be a Jew, always a Jew, +in all things a Jew, had been ever a part of his great dream. It was as +impossible to him as it would be to his father to forswear the religion +of his people. To go forth and be great in commerce by deserting his +creed would have been nothing to him. His ambition did not desire +wealth so much as the possession of wealth in Jewish hands, without +those restrictions upon its enjoyment to which Jews under his own eye +had ever been subjected. It would have delighted him to think that, by +means of his work, there should no longer be a Jews' quarter in Prague, +but that all Prague should be ennobled and civilised and made beautiful +by the wealth of Jews. Wealth must be his means, and therefore he was +greedy; but wealth was not his last or only aim, and therefore his +greed did not utterly destroy his heart. Then Nina Balatka had come +across his path, and he was compelled to shape his dreams anew. How +could a Jew among Jews hold up his head as such who had taken to his +bosom a Christian wife? + +<p>But again he shaped his dreams aright — so far aright that he could +still build the castles of his imagination to his own liking. Nina +should be his wife. It might be that she would follow the creed of her +husband, and then all would be well. In those far cities to which he +would go, it would hardly in such case be known that she had been born +a Christian; or else he would show the world around him, both Jews and +Christians, how well a Christian and a Jew might live together. To +crush the prejudice which had dealt so hardly with his people — to make +a Jew equal in all things to a Christian — this was his desire; and how +could this better be fulfilled than by his union with a Christian? One +thing at least was fixed with him — one thing was fixed, even though it +should mar his dreams. He had taken the Christian girl to be part of +himself, and nothing should separate them. His father had spoken often +to him of the danger which he would incur by marrying a Christian, but +had never before uttered any word approaching to a personal threat. +Anton had felt himself to be so completely the mainspring of the +business in which they were both engaged — was so perfectly aware that +he was so regarded by all the commercial men of Prague — that he had +hardly regarded the absence of any positive possession in his father's +wealth as detrimental to him. He had been willing that it should be his +father's while his father lived, knowing that any division would be +detrimental to them both. He had never even asked his father for a +partnership, taking everything for granted. Even now he could not quite +believe that his father was in earnest. It could hardly be possible +that the work of his own hands should be taken from him because he had +chosen a bride for himself! But this he felt, that should his father +persevere in the intention which he had expressed, he would be upheld +in it by every Jew of Prague. "Dark, ignorant, and foolish," Anton said +to himself, speaking of those among whom he lived; "it is their pride +to live in disgrace, while all the honours of the world are open to +them if they chose to take them!" + +<p>He did not for a moment think of altering his course of action in +consequence of what his father had said to him. Indeed, as regarded the +business of the house, it would stand still altogether were he to alter +it. No successor could take up the work when he should leave it. No +other hand could continue the webs which were of his weaving. So he +went forth, as the errands of the day called him, soon after his +father's last words were spoken, and went through his work as though +his own interest in it were in no danger. + +<p>On that evening nothing was said on the subject between him and his +father, and on the next morning he started immediately after breakfast +for the Ross Markt, in order that he might see Karil Zamenoy, as he had +said that he would do. The papers, should he get them, would belong to +his father, and would at once be put into his father's hands. But the +feeling that it might not be for his own personal advantage to place +them there did not deter him. His father was an old man, and old men +were given to threaten. He at least would go on with his duty. + +<p>It was about eleven o'clock in the day when he entered the open door of +the office in the Ross Markt, and found Ziska and a young clerk sitting +opposite to each other at their desks. Anton took off his hat and bowed +to Ziska, whom he knew slightly, and asked the young man if his father +were within. + +<p>"My father is here," said Ziska, "but I do not know whether he can see +you." + +<p>"You will ask him, perhaps," said Trendellsohn. + +<p>"Well, he is engaged. There is a lady with him." + +<p>"Perhaps he will make an appointment with me, and I will call again. If +he will name an hour, I will come at his own time." + +<p>"Cannot you say to me, Herr Trendellsohn, that which you wish to say to +him?" + +<p>"Not very well." + +<p>"You know that I am in partnership with my father." + +<p>"He and you are happy to be so placed together. But if your father can +spare me five minutes, I will take it from him as a favour." + +<p>Then, with apparent reluctance, Ziska came down from his seat and went +into the inner room. There he remained some time, while Trendellsohn +was standing, hat in hand, in the outer office. If the changes which +he hoped to effect among his brethren could be made, a Jew in Prague +should, before long, be asked to sit down as readily as a Christian. +But he had not been asked to sit, and he therefore stood holding his +hat in his hand during the ten minutes that Ziska was away. At last +young Zamenoy returned, and, opening the door, signified to the Jew +that his father would see him at once if he would enter. Nothing more +had been said about the lady, and there, when Trendellsohn went into +the room, he found the lady, who was no other than Madame Zamenoy +herself. A little family council had been held, and it had been settled +among them that the Jew should be seen and heard. + +<p>"So, sir, you are Anton Trendellsohn," began Madame Zamenoy, as soon as +Ziska was gone — for Ziska had been told to go — and the door was shut. + +<p>"Yes, madame; I am Anton Trendellsohn. I had not expected the honour of +seeing you, but I wish to say a few words on business to your husband." + +<p>"There he is; you can speak to him." + +<p>"Anything that I can do, I shall be very happy," said Karil Zamenoy, +who had risen from his chair to prevent the necessity of having to ask +the Jew to sit down. + +<p>"Herr Zamenoy," began the Jew, "you are, I think, aware that my father +has purchased from your friend and brother-in-law, Josef Balatka, +certain houses in the Kleinseite, in one of which the old man still +lives." + +<p>"Upon my word, I know nothing about it," said Zamenoy — "nothing, that +is to say, in the way of business;" and the man of business laughed. +"Mind I do not at all deny that you did so — you or your father, or the +two together. Your people are getting into their hands lots of houses +all over the town; but how they do it nobody knows. They are not bought +in fair open market." + +<p>"This purchase was made by contract, and the price was paid in full +before the houses were put into our hands." + +<p>"They are not in your hands now, as far as I know." + +<p>"Not the one, certainly, in which Balatka lives. Motives of +friendship — " + +<p>"Friendship!" said Madame Zamenoy, with a sneer. + +<p>"And now motives of love," continued Anton, "have induced us to leave +the use of that house with Josef Balatka." + +<p>"Love!" said Madame Zamenoy, springing from her chair; love indeed! "Do +not talk to me of love for a Jew." + +<p>"My dear, my dear!" said her husband, expostulating. + +<p>"How dares he come here to talk of his love? It is filthy — it is worse +than filthy — it is profane." + +<p>"I came here, madame," continued Anton, "not to talk of my love, but of +certain documents or title-deeds respecting those houses, which should +be at present in my father's custody. I am told that your husband has +them in his safe custody." + +<p>"My husband has them not," said Madame Zamenoy. + +<p>"Stop, my dear — stop," said the husband. + +<p>"Not that he would be bound to give them up to you if he had got them, +or that he would do so; but he has them not." + +<p>"In whose hands are they then?" + +<p>"That is for you to find out, not for us to tell you." + +<p>"Why should not all the world be told, so that the proper owner may +have his own?" + +<p>"It is not always so easy to find out who is the proper owner," said +Zamenoy the elder. + +<p>"You have seen this contract before, I think, said Trendellsohn, +bringing forth a written paper. + +<p>"I will not look at it now at any rate. I have nothing to do with it, +and I will have nothing to do with it. You have heard Madame Zamenoy +declare that the deed which you seek is not here. I cannot say whether +it is here or no. I do not say — as you will be pleased to remember. If +it were here it would be in safe keeping for my brother-in-law, and +only to him could it be given." + +<p>"But will you not say whether it is in your hands? You know well that +Josef Balatka is ill, and cannot attend to such matters." + +<p>"And who has made him ill, and what has made him ill?" said Madame +Zamenoy. "Ill! of course he is ill. Is it not enough to make any man +ill to be told that his daughter is to marry a Jew?" + +<p>"I have not come hither to speak of that," said Trendellsohn. + +<p>"But I speak of it; and I tell you this, Anton Trendellsohn — you shall +never marry that girl." + +<p>"Be it so; but let me at any rate have that which is my own." + +<p>"Will you give her up if it is given to you?" + +<p>"It is here then?" + +<p>"No; it is not here. But will you abandon this mad thought if I tell +you where it is?" + +<p>"No; certainly not." + +<p>"What a fool the man is!" said Madame Zamenoy. "He comes to us for what +he calls his property because he wants to marry the girl, and she is +deceiving him all the while. Go to Nina Balatka, Trendellsohn, and she +will tell you who has the document. She will tell you where it is, if +it suits her to do so." + +<p>"She has told me, and she knows that it is here." + +<p>"She knows nothing of the kind, and she has lied. She has lied in order +that she may rob you. Jew as you are, she will be too many for you. She +will rob you, with all her seeming simplicity." + +<p>"I trust her as I do my own soul," said Trendellsohn. + +<p>"Very well; I tell you that she, and she only, knows where these +papers are. For aught I know, she has them herself. I believe that she +has them. Ziska," said Madame Zamenoy, calling aloud — "Ziska, come +hither;" and Ziska entered the room. "Ziska, who has the title-deeds +of your uncle's houses in the Kleinseite?" Ziska hesitated a moment +without answering. "You know, if anybody does," said his mother; "tell +this man, since he is so anxious, who has got them." + +<p>"I do not know why I should tell him my cousin's secrets." + +<p>"Tell him, I say. It is well that he should know." + +<p>"Nina has them, as I believe," said Ziska, still hesitating. + +<p>"Nina has them!" said Trendellsohn. + +<p>"Yes; Nina Balatka," said Madame Zamenoy. "We tell you, to the best of +our knowledge at least. At any rate, they are not here." + +<p>"It is impossible that Nina should have them," said Trendellsohn. "How +should she have got them?" + +<p>"That is nothing to us," said Madame Zamenoy. "The whole thing is +nothing to us. You have heard all that we can tell you, and you had +better go." + +<p>"You have heard more than I would have told you myself," said Ziska, +"had I been left to my opinion." + +<p>Trendellsohn stood pausing for a moment, and then he turned to the +elder Zamenoy. "What do you say, sir? Is it true that these papers are +at the house in the Kleinseite?" + +<p>"I say nothing," said Karil Zamenoy. "It seems to me that too much has +been said already." + +<p>"A great deal too much," said the lady. "I do not know why I should +have allowed myself to be surprised into giving you any information at +all. You wish to do us the heaviest injury that one man can do another, +and I do not know why we should speak to you at all. Now you had better +go." + +<p>"Yes; you had better go," said Ziska, holding the door open, and +looking as though he were inclined to threaten. Trendellsohn paused +for a moment on the threshold, fixing his eyes full upon those of his +rival; but Ziska neither spoke nor made any further gesture, and then +the Jew left the house. + +<p>"I would have told him nothing," said the elder Zamenoy when they were +left alone. + +<p>"My dear, you don't understand; indeed you do not," said his wife. "No +stone should be left unturned to prevent such a horrid marriage as +this. There is nothing I would not say — nothing I would not do." + +<p>"But I do not see that you are doing anything." + +<p>"Leave this little thing to me, my dear — to me and Ziska. It is +impossible that you should do everything yourself. In such a matter as +this, believe me that a woman is best." + +<p>"But I hate anything that is really dishonest." + +<p>"There shall be no dishonesty — none in the world. You don't suppose +that I want to get the dirty old tumble-down houses. God forbid! But +you would not give up everything to a Jew! Oh, I hate them! I do hate +them! Anything is fair against a Jew." If such was Madame Zamenoy's +ordinary doctrine, it may well be understood that she would scruple at +using no weapon against a Jew who was meditating so great an injury +against her as this marriage with her niece. After this little +discussion old Zamenoy said no more, and Madame Zamenoy went home to +the Windberg-gasse. + +<p>Trendellsohn, as he walked homewards, was lost in amazement. He wholly +disbelieved the statement that the document he desired was in Nina's +hands, but he thought it possible that it might be in the house in +the Kleinseite. It was, after all, on the cards that old Balatka was +deceiving him. The Jew was by nature suspicious, though he was also +generous. He could be noble in his confidence, and at the same time +could become at a moment distrustful. He could give without grudging, +and yet grudge the benefits which came of his giving. Neither he nor +his father had ever positively known in whose custody were the +title-deeds which he was so anxious to get into his own hands. Balatka +had said that they must be with the Zamenoys, but even Balatka had never +spoken as of absolute knowledge. Nina, indeed, had declared positively +that they were in the Ross Markt, saying that Ziska had so stated in +direct terms; but there might be a mistake in this. At any rate he +would interrogate Nina, and if there were need, would not spare the old +man any questions that could lead to the truth. Trendellsohn, as he +thought of the possibility of such treachery on Balatka's part, felt +that, without compunction, he could be very cruel, even to an old man, +under such circumstances as those. +<br> +<br> +<a name="chapt7"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER VII</h3> +</center> + +<p>Madame Zamenoy and her son no doubt understood each other's purposes, +and there was another person in the house who understood them — Lotta +Luxa, namely; but Karil Zamenoy had been kept somewhat in the dark. +Touching that piece of parchment as to which so much anxiety had been +expressed, he only knew that he had, at his wife's instigation, given +it into her hand in order that she might use it in some way for putting +an end to the foul betrothal between Nina and the Jew. The elder +Zamenoy no doubt understood that Anton Trendellsohn was to be bought +off by the document; and he was not unwilling to buy him off so +cheaply, knowing as he did that the houses were in truth the Jew's +property; but Madame Zamenoy's scheme was deeper than this. She did +not believe that the Jew was to be bought off at so cheap a price; but +she did believe that it might be possible to create such a feeling in +his mind as would make him abandon Nina out of the workings of his own +heart. Ziska and his mother were equally anxious to save Nina from the +Jew, but not exactly with the same motives. He had received a promise, +both from his father and mother, before anything was known of the Jew's +love, that Nina should be received as a daughter-in-law, if she would +accept his suit; and this promise was still in force. That the girl +whom he loved should love a Jew distressed and disgusted Ziska; but it +did not deter him from his old purpose. It was shocking, very shocking, +that Nina should so disgrace herself; but she was not on that account +less pretty or less charming in her cousin's eyes. Madame Zamenoy, +could she have had her own will, would have rescued Nina from the Jew — +firstly, because Nina was known all over Prague to be her niece — and, +secondly, for the good of Christianity generally; but the girl herself, +when rescued, she would willingly have left to starve in the poverty of +the old house in the Kleinseite, as a punishment for her sin in having +listened to a Jew. + +<p>"I would have nothing more to say to her," said the mother to her son. + +<p>"Nor I either," said Lotta, who was present. "She has demeaned herself +far too much to be a fit wife for Ziska." + +<p>"Hold your tongue, Lotta; what business have you to speak about such a +matter?" said the young man. + +<p>"All the same, Ziska, if I were you, I would give her up," said the +mother. + +<p>"If you were me, mother, you would not give her up. If every man is to +give up the girl he likes because somebody else interferes with him, +how is anybody to get married at all? It's the way with them all." + +<p>"But a Jew, Ziska!" + +<p>"So much the more reason for taking her away from him." Then Ziska went +forth on a certain errand, the expediency of which he had discussed +with his mother. + +<p>"I never thought he'd be so firm about it, ma'am," said Lotta to her +mistress. + +<p>"If we could get Trendellsohn to turn her off, he would not think much +of her afterwards," said the mother. "He wouldn't care to take the +Jew's leavings." + +<p>"But he seems to be so obstinate," said Lotta. "Indeed I did not think +there was so much obstinacy in him." + +<p>"Of course he is obstinate while he thinks the other man is to have +her," said the mistress; "but all that will be changed when the girl is +alone in the world." + +<p>It was a Saturday morning, and Ziska had gone out with a certain fixed +object. Much had been said between him and his mother since Anton +Trendellsohn's visit to the office, and it had been decided that he +should now go and see the Jew in his own home. He should see him and +speak him fair, and make him understand if possible that the whole +question of the property should be settled as he wished it — if he would +only give up his insane purpose of marrying a Christian girl. Ziska +would endeavour also to fill the Jew's mind with suspicion against +Nina. The former scheme was Ziska's own; the second was that in which +Ziska's mother put her chief trust. "If once he can be made to think +that the girl is deceiving him, he will quarrel with her utterly," +Madame Zamenoy had said. + +<p>On Saturday there is but little business done in Prague, because +Saturday is the Sabbath of the Jews. The shops are of course open in +the main streets of the town, but banks and counting-houses are closed, +because the Jews will not do business on that day — so great is the +preponderance of the wealth of Prague in the hands of that people! It +suited Ziska, therefore, to make his visit on a Saturday, both because +he had but little himself to do on that day, and because he would be +almost sure to find Trendellsohn at home. As he made his way across the +bottom of the Kalowrat-strasse and through the centre of the city to +the narrow ways of the Jews' quarter, his heart somewhat misgave him as +to the result of his visit. He knew very well that a Christian was safe +among the Jews from any personal ill-usage; but he knew also that such +a one as he would be known personally to many of them as a Christian +rival, and probably as a Christian enemy in the same city, and he +thought that they would look at him askance. Living in Prague all his +life, he had hardly been above once or twice in the narrow streets +which he was now threading. Strangers who come to Prague visit the +Jews' quarter as a matter of course, and to such strangers the Jews of +Prague are invariably courteous. But the Christians of the city seldom +walk through the heart of the Jews' locality, or hang about the Jews' +synagogue, or are seen among their houses unless they have special +business. The Jews' quarter, though it is a banishment to the Jews from +the fairer portions of the city, is also a separate and somewhat sacred +castle in which they may live after their old fashion undisturbed. As +Ziska went on, he became aware that the throng of people was unusually +great, and that the day was in some sort more peculiar than the +ordinary Jewish Sabbath. That the young men and girls should be dressed +in their best clothes was, as a matter of course, incidental to the +day; but he could perceive that there was an outward appearance of gala +festivity about them which could not take place every week. The tall +bright-eyed black-haired girls stood talking in the streets, with +something of boldness in their gait and bearing, dressed many of them +in white muslin, with bright ribbons and full petticoats, and that +small bewitching Hungarian hat which they delight to wear. They stood +talking somewhat loudly to each other, or sat at the open windows; +while the young men in black frock-coats and black hats, with crimson +cravats, clustered by themselves, wishing, but not daring so early in +the day, to devote themselves to the girls, who appeared, or attempted +to appear, unaware of their presence. Who can say why it is that those +encounters, which are so ardently desired by both sides, are so rarely +able to get themselves commenced till the enemies have been long in +sight of each other? But so it is among Jews and Christians, among rich +and poor, out under the open sky, and even in the atmosphere of the +ball-room, consecrated though it be to such purposes. Go into any +public dancing-room of Vienna, where the girls from the shops and the +young men from their desks congregate to waltz and make love, and you +shall observe that from ten to twelve they will dance as vigorously as +at a later hour, but that they will hardly talk to each other till the +mellowness of the small morning hours has come upon them. + +<p>Among these groups in the Jewish quarter Ziska made his way, conscious +that the girls eyed him and whispered to each other something as to +his presence, and conscious also that the young men eyed him also, +though they did so without speaking of him as he passed. He knew that +Trendellsohn lived close to the synagogue, and to the synagogue he made +his way. And as he approached the narrow door of the Jews' church, he +saw that a crowd of men stood round it, some in high caps and some in +black hats, but all habited in short muslin shirts, which they wore +over their coats. Such dresses he had seen before, and he knew that +these men were taking part from time to time in some service within +the synagogue. He did not dare to ask of one of them which was +Trendellsohn's house, but went on till he met an old man alone just at +the back of the building, dressed also in a high cap and shirt, which +shirt, however, was longer than those he had seen before. Plucking up +his courage, he asked of the old man which was the house of Anton +Trendellsohn. + +<p>"Anton Trendellsohn has no house," said the old man; "but that is his +father's house, and there Anton Trendellsohn lives. I am Stephen +Trendellsohn, and Anton is my son." + +<p>Ziska thanked him, and, crossing the street to the house, found that +the door was open, and that two girls were standing just within the +passage. The old man had gone, and Ziska, turning, had perceived that +he was out of sight before he reached the house. + +<p>"I cannot come till my uncle returns," said the younger girl. + +<p>"But, Ruth, he will be in the synagogue all day," said the elder, who +was that Rebecca Loth of whom the old Jew had spoken to his son. + +<p>"Then all day I must remain," said Ruth; "but it may be he will be in +by one." Then Ziska addressed them, and asked if Anton Trendellsohn did +not live there. + +<p>"Yes; he lives there," said Ruth, almost trembling, as she answered the +handsome stranger. + +<p>"And is he at home?" + +<p>"He is in the synagogue," said Ruth. "You will find him there if you +will go in." + +<p>"But they are at worship there," said Ziska, doubtingly. + +<p>"They will be at worship all day, because it is our festival," said +Rebecca, with her eyes fixed upon the ground; "but if you are a +Christian they will not object to your going in. They like that +Christians should see them. They are not ashamed." + +<p>Ziska, looking into the girl's face, saw that she was very beautiful; +and he saw also at once that she was exactly the opposite of Nina, +though they were both of a height. Nina was fair, with grey eyes, and +smooth brown hair which seemed to demand no special admiration, though +it did in truth add greatly to the sweet delicacy of her face; and she +was soft in her gait, and appeared to be yielding and flexible in all +the motions of her body. You would think that if you were permitted to +embrace her, the outlines of her body would form themselves to yours, +as though she would in all things fit herself to him who might be +blessed by her love. But Rebecca Loth was dark, with large dark-blue +eyes and jet black tresses, which spoke out loud to the beholder of +their own loveliness. You could not fail to think of her hair and of +her eyes, as though they were things almost separate from herself. And +she stood like a queen, who knew herself to be all a queen, strong on +her limbs, wanting no support, somewhat hard withal, with a repellant +beauty that seemed to disdain while it courted admiration, and utterly +rejected the idea of that caressing assistance which men always love +to give, and which women often love to receive. At the present moment +she was dressed in a frock of white muslin, looped round the skirt, +and bright with ruby ribbons. She had on her feet coloured boots, +which fitted them to a marvel, and on her glossy hair a small new hat, +ornamented with the plumage of some strange bird. On her shoulders she +wore a coloured jacket, open down the front, sparkling with jewelled +buttons, over which there hung a chain with a locket. In her ears she +carried long heavy earrings of gold. Were it not that Ziska had seen +others as gay in their apparel on his way, he would have fancied that +she was tricked out for the playing of some special part, and that she +should hardly have shown herself in the streets with her gala finery. +Such was Rebecca Loth the Jewess, and Ziska almost admitted to himself +that she was more beautiful than Nina Balatka. + +<p>"And are you also of the family?" Ziska asked. + +<p>"No; she is not of the family," said Ruth. "She is my particular +friend, Rebecca Loth. She does not live here. She lives with her +brother and her mother." + +<p>"Ruth, how foolish you are! What does it signify to the gentleman?" + +<p>"But he asked, and so I supposed he wanted to know." + +<p>"I have to apologise for intruding on you with any questions young +ladies," said Ziska; "especially on a day which seems to be solemn." + +<p>"That does not matter at all," said Rebecca. "Here is my brother, +and he will take you into the synagogue if you wish to see Anton +Trendellsohn." Samuel Loth, her brother, then came up and readily +offered to take Ziska into the midst of the worshippers. Ziska would +have escaped now from the project could he have done so without remark; +but he was ashamed to seem afraid to enter the building, as the +girls seemed to make so light of his doing so. He therefore followed +Rebecca's brother, and in a minute or two was inside the narrow door. + +<p>The door was very low and narrow, and seemed to be choked up by men +with short white surplices, but nevertheless he found himself inside, +jammed among a crowd of Jews; and a sound of many voices, going +together in a sing-song wail or dirge, met his ears. His first impulse +was to take off his hat, but that was immediately replaced upon his +head, he knew not by whom; and then he observed that all within the +building were covered. His guide did not follow him, but whispered to +some one what it was that the stranger required. He could see that +those inside the building were all clothed in muslin shirts of +different lengths, and that it was filled with men, all of whom had +before them some sort of desk, from which they were reading, or rather +wailing out their litany. Though this was the chief synagogue in +Prague, and, as being the so-called oldest in Europe, is a building +of some consequence in the Jewish world, it was very small. There was +no ceiling, and the high-pitched roof, which had once probably been +coloured, and the walls, which had once certainly been white, were +black with the dirt of ages. In the centre there was a cage, as it +were, or iron grille, within which five or six old Jews were placed, +who seemed to wail louder than the others. Round the walls there was +a row of men inside stationary desks, and outside them another row, +before each of whom there was a small movable standing desk, on which +there was a portion of the law of Moses. There seemed to be no possible +way by which Ziska could advance, and he would have been glad to +retreat had retreat been possible. But first one Jew and then another +moved their desks for him, so that he was forced to advance, and some +among them pointed to the spot where Anton Trendellsohn was standing. +But as they pointed, and as they moved their desks to make a pathway, +they still sang and wailed continuously, never ceasing for an instant +in their long, loud, melancholy song of prayer. At the further end +there seemed to be some altar, in front of which the High Priest wailed +louder than all, louder even than the old men within the cage; and even +he, the High Priest, was forced to move his desk to make way for Ziska. +But, apparently without displeasure, he moved it with his left hand, +while he swayed his right hand backwards and forwards as though +regulating the melody of the wail. Beyond the High Priest Ziska saw +Anton Trendellsohn, and close to the son he saw the old man whom he +had met in the street, and whom he recognised as Anton's father. Old +Trendellsohn seemed to take no notice of him, but Anton had watched him +from his entrance, and was prepared to speak to him, though he did not +discontinue his part in the dirge till the last moment. + +<p>"I had a few words to say to you, if it would suit you," said Ziska, in +a low voice. + +<p>"Are they of import?" Trendellsohn asked. "If so, I will come to you." + +<p>Ziska then turned to make his way back, but he saw that this was not +to be his road for retreat. Behind him the movable phalanx had again +formed itself into close rank, but before him the wailing wearers of +the white shirts were preparing for the commotion of his passage by +grasping the upright stick of their movable desks in their hands. So he +passed on, making the entire round of the synagogue; and when he got +outside the crowded door, he found that the younger Trendellsohn had +followed him. "We had better go into the house," said Anton; "it will +not be well for us to talk here on any matter of business. Will you +follow me?" + +<p>Then he led the way into the old house, and there at the front door +still stood the two girls talking to each other. + +<p>"You have come back, uncle," said Ruth. + +<p>"Yes; for a few moments, to speak to this gentleman." + +<p>"And will you return to the synagogue?" + +<p>"Of course I shall return to the synagogue." + +<p>"Because Rebecca wishes me to go out with her," said the younger girl, +in a plaintive voice. + +<p>"You cannot go out now. Your grandfather will want you when he +returns." + +<p>"But, uncle Anton, he will not come till sunset." + +<p>"My mother wished to have Ruth with her this afternoon if it were +possible," said Rebecca, hardly looking at Anton as she spoke to him; +"but of course if you will not give her leave I must return without +her." + +<p>"Do you not know, Rebecca," said Anton, "that she is needful to her +grandfather?" + +<p>"She could be back before sunset." + +<p>"I will trust to you, then, that she is brought back." Ruth, as soon +as she heard the words, scampered up-stairs to array herself in such +finery as she possessed, while Rebecca still stood at the door. + +<p>"Will you not come in, Rebecca, while you wait for her?" said Anton. + +<p>"Thank you, I will stand here. I am very well here." + +<p>"But the child will be ever so long making herself ready. Surely you +will come in." + +<p>But Rebecca was obstinate, and kept her place at the door. "He has that +Christian girl there with him day after day," she said to Ruth as they +went away together. "I will never enter the house while she is allowed +to come there." + +<p>"But Nina is very good," said Ruth. + +<p>"I do not care for her goodness." + +<p>"Do you not know that she is to be uncle Anton's wife?" + +<p>"They have told me so, but she shall be no friend of mine, Ruth. Is it +not shameful that he should wish to marry a Christian?" + +<p>When the two men had reached the sitting-room in the Jew's house, and +Ziska had seated himself, Anton Trendellsohn closed the door, and +asked, not quite in anger, but with something of sternness in his +voice, why he had been disturbed while engaged in an act of worship. + +<p>"They told me that you would not mind my going in to you," said Ziska, +deprecating his wrath. + +<p>"That depends on your business. What is it that you have to say to me?" + +<p>"It is this. When you came to us the other day in the Ross Markt, we +were hardly prepared for you. We did not expect you." + +<p>"Your mother could hardly have received me better had she expected me +for a twelvemonth." + +<p>"You cannot be surprised that my mother should be vexed. Besides, you +would not be angry with a lady for what she might say." + +<p>"I care but little what she says. But words, my friend, are things, +and are often things of great moment. All that, however, matters very +little. Why have you done us the honour of coming to our house?" + +<p>Even Ziska could perceive, though his powers of perception in such +matters were perhaps not very great, that the Jew in the Jews' quarter, +and the Jew in the Ross Markt, were very different persons. Ziska was +now sitting while Anton Trendellsohn was standing over him. Ziska, when +he remembered that Anton had not been seated in his father's office — +had not been asked to sit down — would have risen himself, and have +stood during the interview, but he did not know how to leave his seat. +And when the Jew called him his friend, he felt that the Jew was +getting the better of him — was already obtaining the ascendant. "Of +course we wish to prevent this marriage," said Ziska, dashing at once +at his subject. + +<p>"You cannot prevent it. The law allows it. If that is what you have to +come to do, you may as well return." + +<p>"But listen to me, my friend," said Ziska, taking a leaf out of the +Jew's book. "Only listen to me, and then I shall go." + +<p>"Speak, then, and I will listen; but be quick." + +<p>"You want, of course, to be made right about those houses?" + +<p>"My father, to whom they belong, wishes to be made right, as you call +it." + +<p>"It is all the same thing. Now, look here. The truth is this. +Everything shall be settled for you, and the whole thing given up +regularly into your hands, if you will only give over about Nina +Balatka." + +<p>"But I will not give over about Nina Balatka. Am I to be bribed out of +my love by an offer of that which is already mine own? But that you are +in my father's house, I would be wrathful with you for making me such +an offer." + +<p>"Why should you seek a Christian wife, with such maidens among you as +her whom I saw at the door?" + +<p>"Do not mind the maiden whom you saw at the door. She is nothing to +you." + +<p>"No; she is nothing to me. Of course, the lady is nothing to me. If I +were to come here looking for her, you would be angry, and would bid me +seek for beauty among my own people. Would you not do so? Answer me +now." + +<p>"Like enough. Rebecca Loth has many friends who would take her part." + +<p>"And why should we not take Nina's part — we who are her friends?" + +<p>"Have you taken her part? Have you comforted her when she was in +sorrow? Have you wiped her tears when she wept? Have you taken from her +the stings of poverty, and striven to make the world to her a pleasant +garden? She has no mother of her own. Has yours been a mother to her? +Why is it that Nina Balatka has cared to receive the sympathy and the +love of a Jew? Ask that girl whom you saw at the door for some corner +in her heart, and she will scorn you. She, a Jewess, will scorn you, a +Christian. She would so look at you that you would not dare to repeat +your prayer. Why is it that Nina has not so scorned me? We are lodged +poorly here, while Nina's aunt has a fine house in the New Town. She +has a carriage and horses, and the world around her is gay and bright. +Why did Nina come to the Jews' quarter for sympathy, seeing that she, +too, has friends of her own persuasion? Take Nina's part, indeed! It is +too late now for you to take her part. She has chosen for herself, and +her resting-place is to be here." Trendellsohn, as he spoke, put his +hand upon his breast, within the fold of his waistcoat; but Ziska +hardly understood that his doing so had any special meaning. Ziska +supposed that the "here" of which the Jew spoke was the old house in +which they were at that moment talking to each other. + +<p>"I am sure we have meant to be kind to her," said Ziska. + +<p>"You see the effect of your kindness. I tell you this only in answer to +what you said as to the young woman whom you saw at the door. Have you +aught else to say to me? I utterly decline that small matter of traffic +which you have proposed to me." + +<p>"It was not traffic exactly." + +<p>"Very well. What else is there that I can do for you?" + +<p>"I hardly know how to go on, as you are so — so hard in all that you +say." + +<p>"You will not be able to soften me, I fear." + +<p>"About the houses — though you say that I am trafficking, I really wish +to be honest with you." + +<p>"Say what you have to say, then, and be honest." + +<p>"I have never seen but one document which conveys the ownership of +those houses." + +<p>"Let my father, then, have that one document." + +<p>"It is in Balatka's house." + +<p>"That can hardly be possible," said Trendellsohn. + +<p>"As I am a Christian gentleman," said Ziska, "I believe it to be in +that house." + +<p>"As I am a Jew, sir, fearing God," said the other, "I do not believe +it. Who in that house has the charge of it?" + +<p>Ziska hesitated before he replied. "Nina, as I think," he said at last. +"I suppose Nina has it herself." + +<p>"Then she would be a traitor to me." + +<p>"What am I to say as to that?" said Ziska, smiling. Trendellsohn came +to him and sat down close at his side, looking closely into his face. +Ziska would have moved away from the Jew, but the elbow of the sofa +did not admit of his receding; and then, while he was thinking that he +would escape by rising from his seat, Anton spoke again in a low voice + — so low that it was almost a whisper, but the words seemed to fall +direct into Ziska's ears, and to hurt him. "What are you to say? You +called yourself just now a Christian gentleman. Neither the one name +nor the other goes for aught with me. I am neither the one nor the +other. But I am a man; and I ask you, as another man, whether it be +true that Nina Balatka has that paper in her possession — in her own +possession, mind you, I say." Ziska had hesitated before, but his +hesitation now was much more palpable. "Why do you not answer me?" +continued the Jew. "You have made this accusation against her. Is +the accusation true?" + +<p>"I think she has it," said Ziska. "Indeed I feel sure of it." + +<p>"In her own hands?" + +<p>"Oh yes; in her own hands. Of course it must be in her own hands." + +<p>"Christian gentleman," said Anton, rising again from his seat, and now +standing opposite to Ziska, "I disbelieve you. I think that you are +lying to me. Despite your Christianity, and despite your gentility — you +are a liar. Now, sir, unless you have anything further to say to me, +you may go." + +<p>Ziska, when thus addressed, rose of course from his seat. By nature he +was not a coward, but he was unready, and knew not what to do or to say +on the spur of the moment. "I did not come here to be insulted," he +said. + +<p>"No; you came to insult me, with two falsehoods in your mouth, either +of which proves the other to be a lie. You offer to give me up the +deeds on certain conditions, and then tell me that they are with the +girl! If she has them, how can you surrender them? I do not know +whether so silly a story might prevail between two Christians, but we +Jews have been taught among you to be somewhat observant. Sir, it is +my belief that the document belonging to my father is in your father's +desk in the Ross Markt." + +<p>"By heaven, it is in the house in the Kleinseite." + +<p>"How could you then have surrendered it?" + +<p>"It could have been managed." + +<p>It was now the Jew's turn to pause and hesitate. In the general +conclusion to which his mind had come, he was not far wrong. He +thought that Ziska was endeavouring to deceive him in the spirit of +what he said, but that as regarded the letter, the young man was +endeavouring to adhere to some fact for the salvation of his conscience +as a Christian. If Anton Trendellsohn could but find out in what lay +the quibble, the discovery might be very serviceable to him. "It could +have been managed — could it?" he said, speaking very slowly. "Between +you and her, perhaps." + +<p>"Well, yes; between me and Nina — or between some of us," said Ziska. + +<p>"And cannot it be managed now?" + +<p>"Nina is not one of us now. How can we deal with her?" + +<p>"Then I will deal with her myself. I will manage it if it is to be +managed. And, sir, if I find that in this matter you have told me the +simple truth — not the truth, mind you, as from a gentleman, or the +truth as from a Christian, for I suspect both — but the simple truth as +from man to man, then I will express my sorrow for the harsh words I +have used to you." As he finished speaking, Trendellsohn held the door +of the room open in his hand, and Ziska, not being ready with any +answer, passed through it and descended the stairs. The Jew followed +him and also held open the house door, but did not speak again as Ziska +went out. Nor did Ziska say a word, the proper words not being ready to +his tongue. The Jew returned at once into the synagogue, having during +the interview with Ziska worn the short white surplice in which he had +been found; and Ziska returned at once to his own house in the +Windberg-gasse. +<br> +<br> +<a name="chapt8"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3> +</center> + +<p>Early on the following morning — the morning of the Christian Sunday — +Nina Balatka received a note, a very short note, from her lover the +Jew. "Dearest, meet me on the bridge this evening at eight. I will be +at your end on the right-hand pathway exactly at eight. Thine, ever and +always, A. T." Nina, directly she had read the words, rushed out to the +door in order that she might give assurance to the messenger that she +would do as she was bidden; but the messenger was gone, and Nina was +obliged to reconcile herself to the prospect of silent obedience. The +note, however, had made her very happy, and the prospect pleased her +well. It was on this very day that she had intended to go to her lover; +but it was in all respects much pleasanter to her that her lover should +come to her. And then, to walk with him was of all things the most +delightful, especially in the gloom of the evening, when no eyes could +see her — no eyes but his own. She could hang upon his arm, and in this +way she could talk more freely with him than in any other. And then the +note had in it more of the sweetness of a love-letter than any written +words which she had hitherto received from him. It was very short, no +doubt, but he had called her "Dearest," instead of "Dear Nina," as had +been his custom, and then he had declared that he was hers ever and +always. No words could have been sweeter. She was glad that the note +was so short, because there was nothing in it to mar her pleasure. Yes, +she would be there at eight. She was quite determined that she would +not keep him waiting. + +<p>At half-past seven she was on the bridge. There could be no reason, she +thought, why she should not walk across it to the other side and then +retrace her steps, though in doing so she was forced, by the rule of +the road upon the bridge, to pass to the Old Town by the right-hand +pathway in going, while he must come to her by the opposite side. But +she would walk very quickly and watch very closely. If she did not see +him as she crossed and recrossed, she would at any rate be on the spot +indicated at the time named. The autumn evenings had become somewhat +chilly, and she wrapped her thin cloak close round her, as she felt the +night air as she came upon the open bridge. But she was not cold. She +told herself that she could not and would not be cold. How could she be +cold when she was going to meet her lover? The night was dark, for the +moon was now gone and the wind was blowing; but there were a few stars +bright in the heaven, and when she looked down through the parapets of +the bridge, there was just light enough for her to see the black water +flowing fast beneath her. She crossed quickly to the figure of St John, +that she might look closely on those passing on the other side, and +after a few moments recrossed the road. It was the figure of the saint, +St John Nepomucene, who was thrown from this very bridge and drowned, +and who has ever since been the protector of good Christians from the +fate which he himself had suffered. Then Nina bethought herself whether +she was a good Christian, and whether St John of the Bridge would be +justified in interposing on her behalf, should she be in want of him. +She had strong doubts as to the validity of her own Christianity, now +that she loved a Jew; and feared that it was more than probable that St +John would do nothing for her, were she in such a strait as that in +which he was supposed to interfere. But why now should she think of any +such danger? Lotta Luxa had told her to drown herself when she should +find herself to have been jilted by her Jew lover; but her Jew lover +was true to her; she had his dear words at that moment in her bosom, +and in a few moments her hand would be resting on his arm. So she +passed on from the statue of St John, with her mind made up that +she did not want St John's aid. Some other saint she would want, no +doubt, and she prayed a little silent prayer to St Nicholas, that he +would allow her to marry the Jew without taking offence at her. Her +circumstances had been very hard, as the saint must know, and she had +meant to do her best. Might it not be possible, if the saint would help +her, that she might convert her husband? But as she thought of this, +she shook her head. Anton Trendellsohn was not a man to be changed in +his religion by any words which she could use. It would be much more +probable, she knew, that the conversion would be the other way. And she +thought she would not mind that, if only it could be a real conversion. +But if she were induced to say that she was a Jewess, while she still +believed in St Nicholas and St John, and in the beautiful face of the +dear Virgin — if to please her husband she were to call herself a Jewess +while she was at heart a Christian — then her state would be very +wretched. She prayed again to St Nicholas to keep her from that state. +If she were to become a Jewess, she hoped that St Nicholas would let +her go altogether, heart and soul, into Judaism. + +<p>When she reached the end of the long bridge she looked anxiously up the +street by which she knew that he must come, endeavouring to discover +his figure by the glimmering light of an oil-lamp that hung at an angle +in the street, or by the brighter glare which came from the gas in a +shop-window by which he must pass. She stood thus looking and looking +till she thought he would never come. Then she heard the clock in the +old watch-tower of the bridge over her head strike three-quarters, and +she became aware that, instead of her lover being after his time, she +had yet to wait a quarter of an hour for the exact moment which he +had appointed. She did not in the least mind waiting. She had been +a little uneasy when she thought that he had neglected or forgotten +his own appointment. So she turned again and walked back towards the +Kleinseite, fixing her eyes, as she had so often done, on the rows of +windows which glittered along the great dark mass of the Hradschin +Palace. What were they all doing up there, those slow and faded +courtiers to an ex-Emperor, that they should want to burn so many +candles? Thinking of this she passed the tablet on the bridge, and, +according to her custom, put the end of her fingers on it. But as she +was raising her hand to her mouth to kiss it she remembered that the +saint might not like such service from one who was already half a Jew +at heart, and she refrained. She refrained, and then considered whether +the bridge might not topple down with her into the stream because of +her iniquity. But it did not topple down, and now she was standing +beyond any danger from the water at the exact spot which Trendellsohn +had named. She stood still lest she might possibly miss him by moving, +till she was again cold. But she did not regard that, though she +pressed her cloak closely round her limbs. She did not move till she +heard the first sound of the bell as it struck eight, and then she +gave a little jump as she found that her lover was close upon her. + +<p>"So you are here, Nina," he said, putting his hand upon her arm. + +<p>"Of course I am here, Anton. I have been looking, and looking, and +looking, thinking you never would come; and how did you get here?" + +<p>"I am as punctual as the clock, my love." + +<p>"Oh yes, you are punctual, I know; but where did you come from?" + +<p>"I came down the hill from the Hradschin. I have had business there. It +did not occur to your simplicity that I could reach you otherwise than +by the direct road from my own home." + +<p>"I never thought of your coming from the side of the Hradschin," said +Nina, wondering whether any of those lights she had seen could have +been there for the use of Anton Trendellsohn. "I am so glad you have +come to me. It is so good of you." + +<p>"It is good of you to come and meet me, my own one. But you are cold. +Let us walk, and you will be warmer." + +<p>Nina, who had already put her hand upon her lover's arm, thrust it in +a little farther, encouraged by such sweet words; and then he took her +little hand in his, and drew her still nearer to him, till she was +clinging to him very closely. "Nina, my own one," he said again. He had +never before been in so sweet a mood with her. Walk with him? Yes; she +would walk with him all night if he would let her. Instead of turning +again over the bridge as she had expected, he took her back into the +Kleinseite, not bearing round to the right in the direction of her +own house, but going up the hill into a large square, round which +the pathway is covered by the overhanging houses, as is common for +avoidance of heat in Southern cities. Here, under the low colonnade, it +was very dark, and the passengers going to and fro were not many. At +each angle of the square where the neighbouring streets entered it, +in the open space, there hung a dull, dim oil-lamp; but other light +there was none. Nina, however, did not mind the darkness while Anton +Trendellsohn was with her. Even when walking close under the buttresses +of St Nicholas — of St Nicholas, who could not but have been offended — +close under the very niche in which stood the statue of the saint — she +had no uncomfortable qualms. When Anton was with her she did not much +regard the saints. It was when she was alone that those thoughts on her +religion came to disturb her mind. "I do so like walking with you," she +said. "It is the nicest way of talking in the world." + +<p>"I want to ask you a question, Nina," said Anton; "or perhaps two +questions." The tight grasping clasp made on his arm by the tips of her +fingers relaxed itself a little as she heard his words, and remarked +their altered tone. It was not, then, to be all love; and she could +perceive that he was going to be serious with her, and, as she feared, +perhaps angry. Whenever he spoke to her on any matter of business, his +manner was so very serious as to assume in her eyes, when judged by her +feelings, an appearance of anger. The Jew immediately felt the little +movement of her fingers, and hastened to reassure her. "I am quite sure +that your answers will satisfy me." + +<p>"I hope so," said Nina. But the pressure of her hand upon his arm was +not at once repeated. + +<p>"I have seen your cousin Ziska, Nina; indeed, I have seen him twice +lately; and I have seen your uncle and your aunt." + +<p>"I suppose they did not say anything very pleasant about me." + +<p>"They did not say anything very pleasant about anybody or about +anything. They were not very anxious to be pleasant; but that I did +not mind." + +<p>"I hope they did not insult you, Anton?" + +<p>"We Jews are used as yet to insolence from Christians, and do not mind +it." + +<p>"They shall never more be anything to me, if they have insulted you." + +<p>"It is nothing, Nina. We bear those things, and think that such of you +Christians as use that liberty of a vulgar tongue, which is still +possible towards a Jew in Prague, are simply poor in heart and +ignorant." + +<p>"They are poor in heart and ignorant." + +<p>"I first went to your uncle's office in the Ross Markt, where I saw him +and your aunt and Ziska. And afterwards Ziska came to me, at our own +house. He was tame enough then." + +<p>"To your own house?" + +<p>"Yes; to the Jews' quarter. Was it not a condescension? He came into +our synagogue and ferreted me out. You may be sure that he had +something very special to say when he did that. But he looked as though +he thought that his life were in danger among us." + +<p>"But, Anton, what had he to say?" + +<p>"I will tell you. He wanted to buy me off." + +<p>"Buy you off!" + +<p>"Yes; to bribe me to give you up. Aunt Sophie does not relish the idea +of having a Jew for her nephew." + +<p>"Aunt Sophie! — but I will never call her Aunt Sophie again. Do you mean +that they offered you money?" + +<p>"They offered me property, my dear, which is the same. But they did it +economically, for they only offered me my own. They were kind enough to +suggest that if I would merely break my word to you, they would tell me +how I could get the title-deeds of the houses, and thus have the power +of turning your father out into the street." + +<p>"You have the power. He would go at once if you bade him." + +<p>"I do not wish him to go. As I have told you often, he is welcome to +the use of the house. He shall have it for his life, as far as I am +concerned. But I should like to have what is my own." + +<p>"And what did you say?" Nina, as she asked the question, was very +careful not to tighten her hold upon his arm by the weight of a single +ounce. + +<p>"What did I say? I said that I had many things that I valued greatly, +but that I had one thing that I valued more than gold or houses — more +even than my right." + +<p>"And what is that?" said Nina, stopping suddenly, so that she might +hear clearly every syllable of the words which were to come. "What is +that?" She did not even yet add an ounce to the pressure; but her +fingers were ready. + +<p>"A poor thing," said Anton; "just the heart of a Christian girl." + +<p>Then the hand was tightened, or rather the two hands, for they were +closed together upon his arm; and his other arm was wound round her +waist; and then, in the gloom of the dark colonnade, he pressed her +to his bosom, and kissed her lips and her forehead, and then her lips +again. "No," he said, "they have not bribed high enough yet to get from +me my treasure — my treasure." + +<p>"Dearest, am I your treasure?" + +<p>"Are you not? What else have I that I make equal to you?" Nina was +supremely happy — triumphant in her happiness. She cared nothing for her +aunt, nothing for Lotta Luxa and her threats; and very little at the +present moment even for St Nicholas or St John of the Bridge. To be +told by her lover that she was his own treasure, was sufficient to +banish for the time all her miseries and all her fears. + +<p>"You are my treasure. I want you to remember that, and to believe it," +said the Jew. + +<p>"I will believe it," said Nina, trembling with anxious eagerness. Could +it be possible that she would ever forget it? + +<p>"And now I will ask my questions. Where are those title-deeds?" + +<p>"Where are they?" said she, repeating his question. + +<p>"Yes; where are they?" + +<p>"Why do you ask me? And why do you look like that?" + +<p>"I want you to tell me where they are, to the best of your knowledge." + +<p>"Uncle Karil has them — or else Ziska." + +<p>"You are sure of that?" + +<p>"How can I be sure? I am not sure at all. But Ziska said something +which made me feel sure of it, as I told you before. And I have +supposed always that they must be in the Ross Markt. Where else can +they be?" + +<p>"Your aunt says that you have got them." + +<p>"That I have got them?" + +<p>"Yes, you. That is what she intends me to understand." The Jew had +stopped at one of the corners, close under the little lamp, and looked +intently into Nina's face as he spoke to her. + +<p>"And you believe her?" said Nina. + +<p>But he went on without noticing her question. "She intends me +to believe that you have got them, and are keeping them from me +fraudulently! cheating me, in point of fact — that you are cheating me, +so that you may have some hold over the property for your own purposes. +That is what your aunt wishes me to believe. She is a wise woman, is +she not? and very clever. In one breath she tries to bribe me to give +you up, and in the next she wants to convince me that you are not worth +keeping." + +<p>"But, Anton — " + +<p>"Nay, Nina, I will not put you to the trouble of protestation. Look at +that star. I should as soon suspect the light which God has placed in +the heaven of misleading me, as I should suspect you." + +<p>"Oh, Anton, dear Anton, I do so love you for saying that! Would it be +possible that I should keep anything from you?" + +<p>"I think you would keep nothing from me. Were you to do so, you could +not be my own love any longer. A man's wife must be true to him in +everything, or she is not his wife. I could endure not only no fraud +from you, but neither could I endure falsehood." + +<p>"I have never been false to you. With God's help I never will be false +to you." + +<p>"He has given you His help. He has made you true-hearted, and I do not +doubt you. Now answer me another question. Is it possible that your +father should have the paper?" + +<p>Nina paused a moment, and then she replied with eagerness, "Quite +impossible. I am sure that he knows nothing of it more than you know." +When she had so spoken they walked in silence for a few yards, but +Anton did not at once reply to her. "You do not think that father is +keeping anything from you, do you," said Nina. + +<p>"I do not know," said the Jew. "I am not sure." + +<p>"You may be sure. You may be quite sure. Father is at least honest." + +<p>"I have always thought so." + +<p>"And do you not think so still?" + +<p>"Look here, Nina. I do not know that there is a Christian in Prague who +would feel it to be beneath him to rob a Jew, and I do not altogether +blame them. They believe that we would rob them, and many of us do so. +We are very sharp, each on the other, dealing against each other always +in hatred, never in love — never even in friendship." + +<p>"But, for all that, my father has never wronged you." + +<p>"He should not do so, for I am endeavouring to be kind to him. For your +sake, Nina, I would treat him as though he were a Jew himself." + +<p>"He has never wronged you; I am sure that he has never wronged you." + +<p>"Nina, you are more to me than you are to him." + +<p>"Yes. I am — I am your own; but yet I will declare that he has never +wronged you." + +<p>"And I should be more to you than he is." + +<p>"You are more — you are everything to me; but, still, I know that he has +never wronged you." + +<p>Then the Jew paused again, still walking onwards through the dark +colonnade with her hand upon his arm. They walked in silence the whole +side of the large square. Nina waiting patiently to hear what would +come next, and Trendellsohn considering what words he would use. He did +suspect her father, and it was needful to his purpose that he should +tell her so; and it was needful also, as he thought, that she should be +made to understand that in her loyalty and truth to him she must give +up her father, or even suspect her father, if his purpose required that +she should do so. Though she were still a Christian herself, she must +teach herself to look at other Christians, even at those belonging to +herself, with Jewish eyes. Unless she could do so she would not be true +and loyal to him with that troth and loyalty which he required. Poor +Nina! It was the dearest wish of her heart to be true and loyal to him +in all things; but it might be possible to put too hard a strain even +upon such love as hers. "Nina," the Jew said, "I fear your father. I +think that he is deceiving us." + +<p>"No, Anton, no! he is not deceiving you. My aunt and uncle and Ziska +are deceiving you." + +<p>"They are trying to deceive me, no doubt; but as far as I can judge +from their own words and looks, they do believe that at this moment the +document which I want is in your father's house. As far as I can judge +their thoughts from their words, they think that it is there." + +<p>"It is not there," said Nina, positively. + +<p>"That is what we must find out. Your uncle was silent. He said nothing, +or next to nothing." + +<p>"He is the best of the three, by far," said Nina. + +<p>"Your aunt is a clever woman in spite her blunder about you; and had I +dealt with her only I should have thought that she might have expressed +herself as she did, and still have had the paper in her own keeping. I +could not read her mind as I could read his. Women will lie better than +men." + +<p>"But men can lie too," said Nina. + +<p>"Your cousin Ziska is a fool." + +<p>"He is a fox," said Nina. + +<p>"He is a fool in comparison with his mother. And I had him in my own +house, under my thumb, as it were. Of course he lied. Of course he +tried to deceive me. But, Nina, he believes that the document is here — +in your house. Whether it be there or not, Ziska thinks that it is +there." + +<p>"Ziska is more fox than fool," said Nina. + +<p>"Let that be as it may. I tell you the truth of him. He thinks it is +here. Now, Nina, you must search for it." + +<p>"It is not there, Anton. I tell you of my own knowledge, it is not in +the house. Come and search yourself. Come to-morrow. Come to-night, if +you will." + +<p>"It would be of no use. I could not search as you can do. Tell me, +Nina; has your father no place locked up which is not open to you?" + +<p>"Yes; he has his old desk; you know it, where it stands in the +parlour." + +<p>"You never open that?" + +<p>"No, never; but there is nothing there — nothing of that nature." + +<p>"How can you tell? Or he can keep it about his person?" + +<p>"He keeps it nowhere. He has not got it. Dear Anton, put it out of your +head. You do not know my cousin Ziska. That he has it in his own hands +I am now sure." + +<p>"And I, Nina, am sure that it is here in the Kleinseite — or at least +am sure that he thinks it to be so. The question now is this: Will you +obey me in what directions I may give you concerning it?" Nina could +not bring herself to give an unqualified reply to this demand on the +spur of the moment. Perhaps it occurred to her that the time for such +implicit obedience on her part had hardly yet come — that as yet at +least she must not be less true to her father than to her lover. She +hesitated, therefore, in answering him. "Do you not understand me, +Nina?" he said roughly. "I asked you whether you will do as I would +have you do, and you make no reply. We two, Nina, must be one in all +things, or else we must be apart — in all things." + +<p>"I do not know what it is you wish of me," she said, trembling. + +<p>"I wish you to obey me." + +<p>"But suppose — " + +<p>"I know that you must trust me first before you can obey me." + +<p>"I do trust you. You know that I trust you." + +<p>"Then you should obey me." + +<p>"But not to suspect my own father!" + +<p>"I do not ask you to suspect him." + +<p>"But you suspect him?" + +<p>"Yes; I do. I am older than you, and know more of men and their ways +than you can do. I do suspect him. You must promise me that you will +search for this deed." + +<p>Again she paused, but after a moment or two a thought struck her, and +she replied eagerly, "Anton, I will tell you what I will do. I will ask +him openly. He and I have always been open to each other." + +<p>"If he is concealing it, do you think he will tell you?" + +<p>"Yes, he would tell me. But he is not concealing it." + +<p>"Will you look?" + +<p>"I cannot take his keys from him and open his box." + +<p>"You mean that you will not do as I bid you?" + +<p>"I cannot do it. Consider of it, Anton. Could you treat your own father +in such a way?" + +<p>"I would cling to you sooner than to him. I have told him so, and he +has threatened to turn me penniless from his house. Still I shall cling +to you, because you are my love. I shall do so if you are equally true +to me. That is my idea of love. There can be no divided allegiance." + +<p>And this also was Nina's idea of love — an idea up to which she had +striven to act and live when those around her had threatened her with +all that earth and heaven could do to her if she would not abandon the +Jew. But she had anticipated no such trial as that which had now come +upon her. "Dear Anton," she said, appealing to him weakly in her +weakness, "if you did but know how I love you!" + +<p>"You must prove your love." + +<p>"Am I not ready to prove it? Would I not give up anything, everything, +for you?" + +<p>"Then you must assist me in this thing, as I am desiring you." As he +said this they had reached the corner from whence the street ran in the +direction of the bridge, and into this he turned instead of continuing +their walk round the square. She said nothing as he did so; but +accompanied him, still leaning upon his arm. He walked on quickly and +in silence till they came to the turn which led towards Balatka's +house, and then he stopped. "It is late," said he, "and you had better +go home." + +<p>"May I not cross the bridge with you?" + +<p>"You had better go home." His voice was very stern, and as she dropped +her hand from his arm she felt it to be impossible to leave him in that +way. Were she to do so, she would never be allowed to speak to him or +to see him again. "Good-night," he said, preparing to turn from her. + +<p>"Anton, Anton, do not leave me like that." + +<p>"How then shall I leave you? Shall I say that it does not matter +whether you obey me or not? It does matter. Between you and me such +obedience matters everything. If we are to be together, I must abandon +everything for you, and you must comply in everything with me." Then +Nina, leaning close upon him, whispered into his ear that she would +obey him. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="chapt9"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h2>VOLUME II</h2> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER IX</h3> +</center> + +<p>Nina's misery as she went home was almost complete. She had not, +indeed, quarrelled with her lover, who had again caressed her as she +left him, and assured her of his absolute confidence, but she had +undertaken a task against which her very soul revolted. It gave her +no comfort to say to herself that she had undertaken to look for that +which she knew she would not find, and that therefore her search could +do no harm. She had, in truth, consented to become a spy upon her +father, and was so to do in furtherance of the views of one who +suspected her father of fraud, and who had not scrupled to tell her +that her father was dishonest. Now again she thought of St Nicholas, as +she heard the dull chime of the clock from the saint's tower, and found +herself forced to acknowledge that she was doing very wickedly in +loving a Jew. Of course troubles would come upon her. What else could +she expect? Had she not endeavoured to throw behind her and to trample +under foot all that she had learned from her infancy under the guidance +of St Nicholas? Of course the saint would desert her. The very sound +of the chime told her that he was angry with her. How could she hope +again that St John would be good to her? Was it not to be expected +that the black-flowing river over which she understood him to preside +would become her enemy and would swallow her up — as Lotta Luxa had +predicted? Before she returned home, when she was quite sure that Anton +Trendellsohn had already passed over, she went down upon the bridge, +and far enough along the causeway to find herself over the river, and +there, crouching down, she looked at the rapid-running silent black +stream beneath her. The waters were very silent and very black, but +she could still see or feel that they were running rapidly. And they +were cold, too. She herself at the present moment was very cold. She +shuddered as she looked down, pressing her face against the stone-work, +with her two hands resting on two of the pillars of the parapet. It +would be very terrible. She did not think that she much cared for +death. The world had been so hard to her, and was growing so much +harder, that it would be a good thing to get away from it. If she could +become ill and die, with a good kind nun standing by her bedside, and +with the cross pressed to her bosom, and with her eyes fixed on the +sweet face of the Virgin Mother as it was painted in the little picture +in her room — in that way she thought that death might even be +grateful. But to be carried away she knew not whither in the cold, silent, +black-flowing Moldau! And yet she half believed the prophecy of Lotta. Such +a quiet death as that she had pictured to herself could not be given to +her! What nun would come to her bedside — to the bed of a girl who had +declared to all Prague that she intended to marry a Jew? For weeks past +she had feared even to look at the picture of the Virgin. + +<p>"I'm afraid you'll think I am very late, father," she said, as soon as +she reached home. + +<p>Her father muttered something, but not angrily, and she soon busied +herself about him, doing some little thing for his comfort, as was +her wont. But as she did so she could not but remember that she had +undertaken to be a spy upon him, to secrete his key, and to search +surreptitiously for that which he was supposed to be keeping +fraudulently. As she sat by him empty-handed — for it was Sunday night, +and as a Christian she never worked with a needle upon the Sunday — she +told herself that she could not do it. Could there be any harm done +were she to ask him now, openly, what papers he kept in that desk? But +she desired to obey her lover where obedience was possible, and he had +expressly forbidden her to ask any such question. She sat, therefore, +and said no word that could tend to ease her suffering; and then, when +the time came, she went suffering to her bed. + +<p>On the next day there seemed to come to her no opportunity for doing +that which she had to do. Souchey was in and out of the house all the +morning, explaining to her that they had almost come to the end of the +flour and of the potatoes which he had bought, that he himself had +swallowed on the previous evening the last tip of the great sausage — +for, as he had alleged, it was no use a fellow dying of starvation +outright — and that there was hardly enough of chocolate left to make +three cups. Nina had brought out her necklace and had asked Souchey to +take it to the shop and do the best with it he could; but Souchey had +declined the commission, alleging that he would be accused of having +stolen it; and Nina had then prepared to go herself, but her father had +called her, and he had come out into the sitting-room and had remained +there during the afternoon, so that both the sale of the trinket and +the search in the desk had been postponed. The latter she might have +done at night, but when the night came the deed seemed to be more +horrid than it would be even in the day. + +<p>She observed also, more accurately than she had ever done before, that +he always carried the key of his desk with him. He did not, indeed, put +it under his pillow, or conceal it in bed, but he placed it with an old +spectacle-case which he always carried, and a little worn pocket-book +which Nina knew to be empty, on a low table which stood at his bed-head; +and now during the whole of the afternoon he had the key on the +table beside him. Nina did not doubt but that she could take the key +while he was asleep; for when he was even half asleep — which was +perhaps his most customary state — he would not stir when she entered +the room. But if she took it at all, she would do so in the day. She +could not bring herself to creep into the room in the night, and to +steal the key in the dark. As she lay in bed she still thought of it. +She had promised her lover that she would do this thing. Should she +resolve not to do it, in spite of that promise, she must at any rate +tell Anton of her resolution. She must tell him, and then there would +be an end of everything. Would it be possible for her to live without +her love? + +<p>On the following morning it occurred to her that she might perhaps be +able to induce her father to speak of the houses, and of those horrid +documents of which she had heard so much, without disobeying any of +Trendellsohn's behests. There could, she thought, be no harm in her +asking her father some question as to the ownership of the houses, +and as to the Jew's right to the property. Her father had very often +declared in her presence that old Trendellsohn could turn him into the +street at any moment. There had been no secrets between her and her +father as to their poverty, and there could be no reason why her tongue +should now be silenced, so long as she refrained from any positive +disobedience to her lover's commands. That he must be obeyed she still +recognised as the strongest rule of all — obeyed, that is, till she +should go to him and lay down her love at his feet, and give back to +him the troth which he had given her. + +<p>"Father," she said to the old man about noon that day, "I suppose this +house does belong to the Trendellsohns?" + +<p>"Of course it does," said he, crossly. + +<p>"Belongs to them altogether, I mean?" she said. + +<p>"I don't know what you call altogether. It does belong to them, and +there's an end of it. What's the good of talking about it?" + +<p>"Only if so, they ought to have those deeds they are so anxious about. +Everybody ought to have what is his own. Don't you think so, father?" + +<p>"I am keeping nothing from them," said he; "you don't suppose that I +want to rob them?" + +<p>"Of course you do not." Then Nina paused again. She was drawing +perilously near to forbidden ground, if she were not standing on it +already; and yet she was very anxious that the subject should not be +dropped between her and her father. + +<p>"I'm sure you do not want to rob anyone, father. But — " + +<p>"But what? I suppose young Trendellsohn has been talking to you again +about it. I suppose he suspects me; if so, no doubt, you will suspect +me too." + +<p>"Oh, father! how can you be so cruel?" + +<p>"If he thinks the papers are here, it is his own house; let him come +and search for them." + +<p>"He will not do that, I am sure." + +<p>"What is it he wants, then? I can't go out to your uncle and make him +give them up." + +<p>"They are, then, with uncle?" + +<p>"I suppose so; but how am I to know? You see how they treat me. I +cannot go to them, and they never come to me — except when that woman +comes to scold." + +<p>"But they can't belong to uncle." + +<p>"Of course they don't." + +<p>"Then why should he keep them? What good can they do him? When I spoke +to Ziska, Ziska said they should be kept, because Trendellsohn is a +Jew; but surely a Jew has a right to his own. We at any rate ought to +do what we can for him, Jew as he is, since he lets us live in his +house." + +<p>The slight touch of irony which Nina had thrown into her voice when she +spoke of what was due to her lover even though he was a Jew was not +lost upon her father. "Of course you would take his part against a +Christian," he said. + +<p>"I take no one's part against anyone," said she, "except so far as +right is concerned. If we take a Jew's money, I think we should give +him the thing which he purchases." + +<p>"Who is keeping him from it?" said Balatka, angrily. + +<p>"Well — I suppose it is my uncle," replied Nina. + +<p>"Why cannot you let me be at peace then?" + +<p>Having so said he turned himself round to the wall, and Nina felt +herself to be in a worse position than ever. There was nothing now for +her but to take the key, or else to tell her lover that she would not +obey him. There could be no further hope in diplomacy. She had just +resolved that she could not take the key — that in spite of her promise +she could not bring herself to treat her father after such fashion as +that — when the old man turned suddenly round upon her again, and went +back to the subject. + +<p>"I have got a letter somewhere from Karil Zamenoy," said he, "telling +me that the deed is in his own chest." + +<p>"Have you, father?" said she, anxiously, but struggling to repress her +anxiety. + +<p>"I had it, I know. It was written ever so long ago — before I had +settled with the Trendellsohns; but I have seen it often since. Take +the key and unlock the desk, and bring me the bundle of papers that +are tied with an old tape; or — stop — bring me all the papers." With +trembling hand Nina took the key. She was now desired by her father to +do exactly that which her lover wished her to have done; or, better +still, her father was about to do the thing himself. She would at any +rate have positive proof that the paper was not in her father's desk. +He had desired her to bring all the papers, so that there would be no +doubt left. She took the key very gently, as softly as was possible to +her, and went slowly into the other room. When there she unlocked the +desk and took out the bundle of letters tied with an old tape which lay +at the top ready to her hand. Then she collected together the other +papers, which were not many, and without looking at them carried them +to her father. She studiously avoided any scrutiny of what there might +be, even by so much as a glance of her eye. "This seems to be all there +is, father, except one or two old account-books." + +<p>He took the bundle, and with feeble hands untied the tape and moved +the documents, one by one. Nina felt that she was fully warranted in +looking at them now, as her father was in fact showing them to her. +In this way she would be able to give evidence in his favour without +having had recourse to any ignoble practice. The old man moved every +paper in the bundle, and she could see that they were all letters. She +had understood that the deed for which Trendellsohn had desired her to +search was written on a larger paper than any she now saw, and that she +might thus know it at once. There was, certainly, no such deed among +the papers which her father slowly turned over, and which he slowly +proceeded to tie up again with the old tape. "I am sure I saw it the +other day," he said, fingering among the loose papers while Nina looked +on with anxious eyes. Then at last he found the letter from Karil +Zamenoy, and having read it himself, gave it her to read. It was dated +seven or eight years back, at a time when Balatka was only on his way +to ruin — not absolutely ruined, as was the case with him now — and +contained an offer on Zamenoy's part to give safe custody to certain +documents which were named, and among which the deed now sought for +stood first. + +<p>"And has he got all those other papers?" Nina asked. + +<p>"No! he has none of them, unless he has this. There is nothing left but +this one that the Jew wants." + +<p>"And uncle Karil has never given that back?" + +<p>"Never." + +<p>"And it should belong to Stephen Trendellsohn?" + +<p>"Yes, I suppose it should." + +<p>"Who can wonder, then, that they should be anxious and inquire after +it, and make a noise about it? Will not the law make uncle Karil give +it up?" + +<p>"How can the law prove that he has got it? I know nothing about the +law. Put them all back again." Then Nina replaced the papers and locked +the desk. She had, at any rate, been absolutely and entirely successful +in her diplomacy, and would be able to assure Anton Trendellsohn, of +her knowledge, that that which he sought was not in her father's +keeping. + +<p>On the same day she went out to sell her necklace. She waited till +it was nearly dark — till the first dusk of evening had come upon the +street — and then she crossed the bridge and hurried to a jeweller's +shop in the Grosser Ring which she had observed, and at which she knew +such trinkets as hers were customarily purchased. The Grosser Ring +is an open space — such as we call a square — in the oldest part of the +town, and in it stand the Town Hall and the Theinkirche, which may be +regarded as the most special church in Prague, as there for many years +were taught the doctrines of Huss, the great Reformer of Bohemia. +Here, in the Grosser Ring, there was generally a crowd of an evening, +as Nina knew, and she thought that she could go in and out of the +jeweller's shop without observation. She believed that she might be +able to borrow money on her treasure, leaving it as a deposit; and +this, if possible, she would do. There were regular pawnbrokers in the +town, by whom no questions would be made, who, of course, would lend +her money in the ordinary way of their trade; but she believed that +such people would advance to her but a very small portion of the value +of her necklace; and then, if, as would be too probable, she could not +redeem it, the necklace would be gone, and gone without a price! + +<p>"Yes, it is my own, altogether my own — my very own." She had to explain +all the circumstances to the jeweller, and at last, with a view of +quelling any suspicion, she told the jeweler what was her name, and +explained how poor were the circumstances of her house. "But you must +be the niece of Madame Zamenoy, in the Windberg-gasse," said the +jeweller. And then, when Nina with hesitation acknowledged that such +was the case, the man asked her why she did not go to her rich aunt, +instead of selling a trinket which must be so valuable. + +<p>"No!" said Nina, "I cannot do that. If you will lend me something of +its value, I shall be so much obliged to you." + +<p>"But Madame Zamenoy would surely help you?" + +<p>"We would not take it from her. But we will not speak of that, sir. +Can I have the money?" Then the jeweller gave her a receipt for the +necklace and took her receipt for the sum he lent her. It was more than +Nina had expected, and she rejoiced that she had so well completed her +business. Nevertheless she wished that the jeweller had known nothing +of her aunt. She was hardly out of the shop before she met her cousin +Ziska, and she so met him that she could not escape him. She heard his +voice, indeed, almost as soon as she recognised him, and had stopped at +his summons before she had calculated whether it might not be better to +run away. "What, Nina! is that you?" said Ziska, taking her hand before +she knew how to refuse it to him. + +<p>"Yes; it is I," said Nina. + +<p>"What are you doing here?" + +<p>"Why should I not be in the Grosser Ring as well as another? It is open +to rich and poor." + +<p>"So is Rapinsky's shop; but poor people do not generally have much to +do there." Rapinsky was the name of the jeweller who had advanced the +money to Nina. + +<p>"No, not much," said Nina. "What little they have to sell is soon +sold." + +<p>"And have you been selling anything?" + +<p>"Nothing of yours, Ziska." + +<p>"But have you been selling anything?" + +<p>"Why do you ask me? What business is it of yours?" + +<p>"They say that Anton Trendellsohn, the Jew, gives you all that you +want," said Ziska. + +<p>"Then they say lies," said Nina, her eyes flashing fire upon her +Christian lover through the gloom of the evening. "Who says so? You say +so. No one else would be mean enough to be so false." + +<p>"All Prague says so." + +<p>"All Prague! I know what that means. And did all Prague go to the Jews' +quarter last Saturday, to tell Anton Trendellsohn that the paper which +he wants, and which is his own, was in father's keeping? Was it all +Prague told that falsehood also?" There was a scorn in her face as she +spoke which distressed Ziska greatly, but which he did not know how to +meet or how to answer. He wanted to be brave before her; and he wanted +also to show his affection for her, if only he knew how to do so, +without making himself humble in her presence. + +<p>"Shall I tell you, Nina, why I went to the Jews' quarter on Saturday?" + +<p>"No; tell me nothing. I wish to hear nothing from you. I know enough +without your telling me." + +<p>"I wish to save you if it be possible, because — because I love you." + +<p>"And I — I never wish to see you again, because I hate you. I hate you, +because you have been cruel. But let me tell you this; poor as we are, +I have never taken a farthing of Anton's money. When I am his wife, as +I hope to be — as I hope to be — I will take what he gives me as though +it came from heaven. From you! — I would sooner die in the street +than take a crust of bread from you." Then she darted from him, and +succeeded in escaping without hearing the words with which he replied +to her angry taunts. She was woman enough to understand that her +keenest weapon for wounding him would be an expression of unbounded +love and confidence as to the man who was his rival; and therefore, +though she was compelled to deny that she had lived on the charity of +her lover, she had coupled her denial with an assurance of her faith +and affection, which was, no doubt, bitter enough in Ziska's ears. "I +do believe that she is witched," he said, as he turned away towards his +own house. And then he reflected wisely on the backward tendency of the +world in general, and regretted much that there was no longer given to +priests in Bohemia the power of treating with salutary ecclesiastical +severity patients suffering in the way in which his cousin Nina was +afflicted. + +<p>Nina had hardly got out of the Grosser Ring into the narrow street +which leads from thence towards the bridge, when she encountered her +other lover. He was walking slowly down the centre of the street when +she passed him, or would have passed him, had not she recognized his +figure through the gloom. "Anton," she said, coming up to him and +touching his arm as lightly as was possible. "I am so glad to meet +you here." + +<p>"Nina?" + +<p>"Yes; Nina." + +<p>"And what have you been doing?" + +<p>"I don't know that I want to tell you; only that I like to tell you +everything." + +<p>"If so, you can tell me this." Nina, however, hesitated. "If you have +secrets, I do not want to inquire into them," said the Jew. + +<p>"I would rather have no secrets from you, only — " + +<p>"Only what?" + +<p>"Well; I will tell you. I had a necklace; and we are not very rich, you +know, at home; and I wanted to get something for father, and — " + +<p>"You have sold it?" + +<p>"No; I have not sold it. The man was very civil, indeed quite kind, and +he lent me some money." + +<p>"But the kind man kept the necklace, I suppose." + +<p>"Of course he kept the necklace. You would not have me borrow money +from a stranger, and leave him nothing?" + +<p>"No; I would not have you do that. But why not borrow from one who is +no stranger?" + +<p>"I do not want to borrow at all," said Nina, in her lowest tone. + +<p>"Are you ashamed to come to me in your trouble?" + +<p>"Yes," said Nina. "I should be ashamed to come to you for money. I +would not take it from you." + +<p>He did not answer her at once, but walked on slowly while she kept +close to his side. + +<p>"Give me the jeweller's docket," he said at last. Nina hesitated for a +moment, and then he repeated his demand in a sterner voice. "Nina, give +me the jeweller's docket." Then she put her hand in her pocket and gave +it him. She was very averse to doing so, but she was more averse to +refusing him aught that he asked of her. + +<p>"I have got something to tell you, Anton," she said, as soon as he had +put the jeweller's paper into his purse. + +<p>"Well — what is it?" + +<p>"I have seen every paper and every morsel of everything that is in +father's desk, and there is no sign of the deed you want." + +<p>"And how did you see them?" + +<p>"He showed them to me." + +<p>"You told him, then, what I had said to you?" + +<p>"No; I told him nothing about it. He gave me the key, and desired me to +fetch him all the papers. He wanted to find a letter which uncle Karil +wrote him ever so long ago. In that letter uncle Karil acknowledges +that he has the deed." + +<p>"I do not doubt that in the least." + +<p>"And what is it you do doubt, Anton?" + +<p>"I do not say I doubt anything." + +<p>"Do you doubt me, Anton?" + +<p>There was a little pause before he answered her — the slightest moment +of hesitation. But had it been but half as much, Nina's ear and Nina's +heart would have detected it. "No," said Anton, "I am not saying that I +doubt any one." + +<p>"If you doubt me, you will kill me. I am at any rate true to you. What +is it you want? What is it you think?" + +<p>"They tell me that the document is in the house in the Kleinseite." + +<p>"Who are they? Who is it that tells you?" + +<p>"More than one. Your uncle and aunt said so — and Ziska Zamenoy came to +me on purpose to repeat the same." + +<p>"And would you believe what Ziska says? I have hardly thought it worth +my while to tell you that Ziska — " + +<p>"To tell me what of Ziska?" + +<p>"That Ziska pretends to — to want that I should be his wife. I would not +look at him if there were not another man in Prague. I hate him. He is +a liar. Would you believe Ziska?" + +<p>"And another has told me." + +<p>"Another?" said Nina, considering. + +<p>"Yes, another." + +<p>"Lotta Luxa, I suppose." + +<p>"Never mind. They say indeed that it is you who have the deed." + +<p>"And you believe them?" + +<p>"No, I do not believe them. But why do they say so?" + +<p>"Must I explain that? How can I tell? Anton, do you not believe that +the woman who loves you will be true to you?" + +<p>Then he paused again — "Nina, sometimes I think that I have been mad to +love a Christian." + +<p>"What have I been then? But I do love you, Anton — I love you better +than all the world. I care nothing for Jew or Christian. When I think +of you, I care nothing for heaven or earth. You are everything to me, +because I love you. How could I deceive you?" + +<p>"Nina, Nina, my own one!" he said. + +<p>"And as I love you, so do you love me? Say that you love me also." + +<p>"I do," said he — "I love you as I love my own soul." + +<p>Then they parted; and Nina, as she went home, tried to make herself +happy with the assurance which had been given to her by the last words +her lover had spoken; but still there remained with her that suspicion +of a doubt which, if it really existed, would be so cruel an injury to +her love. +<br> +<br> +<a name="chapt10"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER X</h3> +</center> + +<p>Some days passed on after the visit to the jeweller's shop — perhaps ten +or twelve — before Nina heard from or saw her lover again; and during +that time she had no tidings from her relatives in the Windberg-gasse. +Life went on very quietly in the old house, and not the less quietly +because the proceeds of the necklace saved Nina from any further +immediate necessity of searching for money. The cold weather had come, +or rather weather that was cold in the morning and cold in the evening, +and old Balatka kept his bed altogether. His state was such that no one +could say why he should not get up and dress himself, and he himself +continued to speak of some future time when he would do so; but there +he was, lying in his bed, and Nina told herself that in all probability +she would never see him about the house again. For herself, she was +becoming painfully anxious that some day should be fixed for her +marriage. She knew that she was, herself, ignorant in such matters; +and she knew also that there was no woman near her from whom she could +seek counsel. Were she to go to some matron of the neighbourhood, her +neighbour would only rebuke her, because she loved a Jew. She had +boldly told her relatives of her love, and by doing so had shut herself +out from all assistance from them. From even her father she could get +no sympathy; though with him her engagement had become so far a thing +sanctioned, that he had ceased to speak of it in words of reproach. +But when was it to be? She had more than once made up her mind that +she would ask her lover, but her courage had never as yet mounted high +enough in his presence to allow her to do so. When he was with her, +their conversation always took such a turn that before she left him she +was happy enough if she could only draw from him an assurance that he +was not forgetting to love her. Of any final time for her marriage he +never said a word. In the mean time she and her father might starve! +They could not live on the price of a necklace for ever. She had not +made up her mind — she never could make up her mind — as to what might be +best for her father when she should be married; but she had made up her +mind that when that happy time should come, she would simply obey her +husband. He would tell her what would be best for her father. But in +the mean time there was no word of her marriage; and now she had been +ten days in the Kleinseite without once having had so much as a message +from her lover. How was it possible that she should continue to live in +such a condition as this? + +<p>She was sitting one morning very forlorn in the big parlour, looking +out upon the birds who were pecking among the dust in the courtyard +below, when her eye just caught the drapery of the dress of some woman +who had entered the arched gateway. Nina, from her place by the window, +could see out through the arch, and no one therefore could come through +their gate while she was at her seat without passing under her eye; but +on this occasion the birds had distracted her attention, and she had +not caught a sight of the woman's face or figure. Could it be her aunt +come to torture her again — her and her father? She knew that Souchey +was down-stairs, hanging somewhere in idleness about the door, and +therefore she did not leave her place. If it were indeed her aunt, her +aunt might come up there to seek her. Or it might possibly be Lotta +Luxa, who, next to her aunt, was of all women the most disagreeable to +Nina. Lotta, indeed, was not so hard to bear as aunt Sophie, because +Lotta could be answered sharply, and could be told to go, if matters +proceeded to extremities. In such a case Lotta no doubt would not +go; but still the power of desiring her to do so was much. Then Nina +remembered that Lotta never wore her petticoats so full as was the +morsel of drapery which she had seen. And as she thought of this +there came a low knock at the door. Nina, without rising, desired the +stranger to come in. Then the door was gently opened, and Rebecca Loth +the Jewess stood before her. Nina had seen Rebecca, but had never +spoken to her. Each girl had heard much of the other from their younger +friend Ruth Jacobi. Ruth was very intimate with them both, and Nina had +been willing enough to be told of Rebecca, as had Rebecca also to be +told of Nina. "Grandfather wants Anton to marry Rebecca," Ruth had said +more than once; and thus Nina knew well that Rebecca was her rival. "I +think he loves her better than his own eyes," Ruth had said to Rebecca, +speaking of her uncle and Nina. But Rebecca had heard from a thousand +sources of information that he who was to have been her lover had +forgotten his own people and his own religion, and had given himself +to a Christian girl. Each, therefore, now knew that she looked upon an +enemy and a rival; but each was anxious to be very courteous to her +enemy. + +<p>Nina rose from her chair directly she saw her visitor, and came forward +to meet her. "I suppose you hardly know who I am, Fräulein?" said +Rebecca. + +<p>"Oh, yes," said Nina, with her pleasantest smile; "you are Rebecca +Loth." + +<p>"Yes, I am Rebecca Loth, the Jewess." + +<p>"I like the Jews," said Nina. + +<p>Rebecca was not dressed now as she had been dressed on that gala +occasion when we saw her in the Jews' quarter. Then she had been as +smart as white muslin and bright ribbons and velvet could make her. Now +she was clad almost entirely in black, and over her shoulders she wore +a dark shawl, drawn closely round her neck. But she had on her head, +now as then, that peculiar Hungarian hat which looks almost like a +coronet in front, and gives an aspect to the girl who wears it half +defiant and half attractive; and there were there, of course, the long, +glossy, black curls, and the dark-blue eyes, and the turn of the face, +which was so completely Jewish in its hard, bold, almost repellant +beauty. Nina had said that she liked the Jews, but when the words were +spoken she remembered that they might be open to misconstruction, and +she blushed. The same idea occurred to Rebecca, but she scorned to take +advantage of even a successful rival on such a point as that. She would +not twit Nina by any hint that this assumed liking for the Jews was +simply a special predilection for one Jew in particular. "We are not +ungrateful to you for coming among us and knowing us," said Rebecca. +Then there was a slight pause, for Nina hardly knew what to say to +her visitor. But Rebecca continued to speak. "We hear that in other +countries the prejudice against us is dying away, and that Christians +stay with Jews in their houses, and Jews with Christians, eating with +them, and drinking with them. I fear it will never be so in Prague." + +<p>"And why not in Prague? I hope it may. Why should we not do in Prague +as they do elsewhere?" + +<p>"Ah, the feeling is so firmly settled here. We have our own quarter, +and live altogether apart. A Christian here will hardly walk with a +Jew, unless it be from counter to counter, or from bank to bank. As for +their living together — or even eating in the same room — do you ever see +it?" + +<p>Nina of course understood the meaning of this. That which the girl said +to her was intended to prove to her how impossible it was that she +should marry a Jew, and live in Prague with a Jew as his wife; but she, +who stood her ground before aunt Sophie, who had never flinched for a +moment before all the threats which could be showered upon her from +the Christian side, was not going to quail before the opposition of a +Jewess, and that Jewess a rival! + +<p>"I do not know why we should not live to see it," said Nina. + +<p>"It must take long first — very long," said Rebecca. "Even now, +Fräulein, I fear you will think that I am very intrusive in coming to +you. I know that a Jewess has no right to push her acquaintance upon a +Christian girl." The Jewess spoke very humbly of herself and of her +people; but in every word she uttered there was a slight touch of irony +which was not lost upon Nina. Nina could not but bethink herself that +she was poor — so poor that everything around her, on her, and about +her, told of poverty; while Rebecca was very rich, and showed her +wealth even in the sombre garments which she had chosen for her morning +visit. No idea of Nina's poverty had crossed Rebecca's mind, but Nina +herself could not but remember it when she felt the sarcasm implied in +her visitor's self-humiliation. + +<p>"I am glad that you have come to me — very glad indeed, if you have come +in friendship." Then she blushed as she continued, "To me, situated as +I am, the friendship of a Jewish maiden would be a treasure indeed." + +<p>"You intend to speak of — " + +<p>"I speak of my engagement with Anton Trendellsohn. I do so with you +because I know that you have heard of it. You tell me that Jews and +Christians cannot come together in Prague, but I mean to marry a Jew. A +Jew is my lover. If you will say that you will be my friend, I will +love you indeed. Ruth Jacobi is my friend; but then Ruth is so young." + +<p>"Yes, Ruth is very young. She is a child. She knows nothing." + +<p>"A child's friendship is better than none." + +<p>"Ruth is very young. She cannot understand. I too love Ruth Jacobi. I +have known her since she was born. I knew and loved her mother. You do +not remember Ruth Trendellsohn. No; your acquaintance with them is only +of the other day." + +<p>"Ruth's mother has been dead seven years," said Nina. + +<p>"And what are seven years? I have known them for four-and-twenty." + +<p>"Nay; that cannot be." + +<p>"But I have. That is my age, and I was born, so to say, in their arms. +Ruth Trendellsohn was ten years older than I — only ten." + +<p>"And Anton?" + +<p>"Anton was a year older than his sister; but you know Anton's age. Has +he never told you his age?" + +<p>"I never asked him; but I know it. There are things one knows as a +matter of course. I remember his birthday always." + +<p>"It has been a short always." + +<p>"No, not so short. Two years is not a short time to know a friend." + +<p>"But he has not been betrothed to you for two years?" + +<p>"No; not betrothed to me." + +<p>"Nor has he loved you so long; nor you him?" + +<p>"For him, I can only speak of the time when he first told me so." + +<p>"And that was but the other day — but the other day, as I count the +time." To this Nina made no answer. She could not claim to have known +her lover from so early a date as Rebecca Loth had done, who had been, +as she said, born in the arms of his family. But what of that? Men +do not always love best those women whom they have known the longest. +Anton Trendellsohn had known her long enough to find that he loved her +best. Why then should this Jewish girl come to her and throw in her +teeth the shortness of her intimacy with the man who was to be her +husband? If she, Nina, had also been a Jewess, Rebecca Loth would not +then have spoken in such a way. As she thought of this she turned her +face away from the stranger, and looked out among the sparrows who were +still pecking among the dust in the court. She had told Rebecca at the +beginning of their interview that she would be delighted to find a +friend in a Jewess, but now she felt sorry that the girl had come to +her. For Anton's sake she would bear with much from one whom he had +known so long. But for that thought she would have answered her visitor +with short courtesy. As it was, she sat silent and looked out upon the +birds. + +<p>"I have come to you now," said Rebecca Loth, "to say a few words to you +about Anton Trendellsohn. I hope you will not refuse to listen." + +<p>"That will depend on what you say." + +<p>"Do you think it will be for his good to marry a Christian?" + +<p>"I shall leave him to judge of that," replied Nina, sharply. + +<p>"It cannot be that you do not think of it. I am sure you would not +willingly do an injury to the man you love." + +<p>"I would die for him, if that would serve him." + +<p>"You can serve him without dying. If he takes you for his wife, all his +people will turn against him. His own father will become his enemy." + +<p>"How can that be? His father knows of it, and yet he is not my enemy." + +<p>"It is as I tell you. His father will disinherit him. Every Jew in +Prague will turn his back upon him. He knows it now. Anton knows it +himself, but he cannot be the first to say the word that shall put an +end to your engagement." + +<p>"Jews have married Christians in Prague before now," said Nina, +pleading her own cause with all the strength she had. + +<p>"But not such a one as Anton Trendellsohn. An unconsidered man may do +that which is not permitted to those who are more in note." + +<p>"There is no law against it now." + +<p>"That is true. There is no law. But there are habits stronger than law. +In your own case, do you not know that all the friends you have in the +world will turn their backs upon you? And so it would be with him. You +two would be alone — neither as Jews nor as Christians — with none to aid +you, with no friend to love you." + +<p>"For myself I care nothing," said Nina. "They may say, if they like, +that I am no Christian." + +<p>"But how will it be with him? Can you ever be happy if you have been +the cause of ruin to your husband?" + +<p>Nina was again silent for a while, sitting with her face turned +altogether away from the Jewess. Then she rose suddenly from her +chair, and, facing round almost fiercely upon the other girl, asked +a question, which came from the fulness of her heart, "And you — you +yourself, what is it that you intend to do? Do you wish to marry him?" + +<p>"I do," said Rebecca, bearing Nina's gaze without dropping her own eyes +for a moment. "I do. I do wish to be the wife of Anton Trendellsohn." + +<p>"Then you shall never have your wish — never. He loves me, and me only. +Ask him, and he will tell you so." + +<p>"I have asked him, and he has told me so." There was something so +serious, so sad, and so determined in the manner of the young Jewess, +that it almost cowed Nina — almost drove her to yield before her +visitor. "If he has told you so," she said — then she stopped, not +wishing to triumph over her rival. + +<p>"He has told me so; but I knew it without his telling. We all know it. +I have not come here to deceive you, or to create false suspicions. He +does love you. He cares nothing for me, and he does love you. But is he +therefore to be ruined? Which had he better lose? All that he has in +the world, or the girl that has taken his fancy?" + +<p>"I would sooner lose the world twice over than lose him." + +<p>"Yes; but you are only a woman. Think of his position. There is not a +Jew in all Prague respected among us as he is respected. He knows more, +can do more, has more of wit and cleverness, than any of us. We look to +him to win for the Jews in Prague something of the freedom which Jews +have elsewhere — in Paris and in London. If he takes a Christian for his +wife, all this will be destroyed." + +<p>"But all will be well if he were to marry you!" + +<p>Now it was Rebecca's turn to pause; but it was not for long. "I love +him dearly," she said; "with a love as warm as yours." + +<p>"And therefore I am to be untrue to him," said Nina, again seating +herself. + +<p>"And were I to become his wife," continued Rebecca, not regarding the +interruption, "it would be well with him in a worldly point of view. +All our people would be glad, because there has been friendship between +the families from of old. His father would be pleased, and he would +become rich; and I also am not without some wealth of my own." + +<p>"While I am poor," said Nina; "so poor that — look here, I can only mend +my rags. There, look at my shoes. I have not another pair to my feet. +But if he likes me, poor and ragged, better than he likes you, rich — " +She got so far, raising her voice as she spoke; but she could get no +farther, for her sobs stopped her voice. + +<p>But while she was struggling to speak, the other girl rose and knelt at +Nina's feet, putting her long tapering fingers upon Nina's thread-bare +arms, so that her forehead was almost close to Nina's lips. "He does," +said Rebecca. "It is true — quite true. He loves you, poor as you are, +ten times — a hundred times — better than he loves me, who am not poor. +You have won it altogether by yourself, with nothing of outside art to +back you. You have your triumph. Will not that be enough for a life's +contentment?" + +<p>"No — no, no," said Nina. "No, it will not be enough." But her voice +now was not altogether sorrowful. There was in it something of a wild +joy which had come to her heart from the generous admission which the +Jewess made. She did triumph as she remembered that she had conquered +with no other weapons than those which nature had given her. + +<p>"It is more of contentment than I shall ever have," said Rebecca. +"Listen to me. If you will say to me that you will release him from +his promise, I will swear to you by the God whom we both worship, that +I will never become his wife — that he shall never touch me or speak to +me in love." She had risen before she made this proposal, and now stood +before Nina with one hand raised, with her blue eyes fixed upon Nina's +face, and a solemnity in her manner which for a while startled Nina +into silence. "You will believe my word, I am sure," said Rebecca. + +<p>"Yes, I would believe you," said Nina. + +<p>"Shall it be a bargain between us? Say so, and whatever is mine shall +be mine and yours too. Though a Jew may not make a Christian his wife, +a Jewish girl may love a Christian maiden; and then, Nina, we shall +both know that we have done our very best for him whom we both love +better than all the world beside." + +<p>Nina was again silent, considering the proposition that had been made +to her. There was one thing that she did not see; one point of view +in which the matter had not been presented to her. The cause for her +sacrifice had been made plain to her, but why was the sacrifice of the +other also to become necessary? By not yielding she might be able to +keep her lover to herself; but if she were to be induced to abandon him + — for his sake, so that he might not be ruined by his love for her — +why, in that case, should he not take the other girl for his wife? In +such a case Nina told herself that there would be no world left for +her. There would be nothing left for her beyond the accomplishment of +Lotta Luxa's prophecy. But yet, though she thought of this, though in +her misery she half resolved that she would give up Anton, and not +exact from Rebecca the oath which the Jewess had tendered, still, in +spite of that feeling, the dread of a rival's success helped to make +her feel that she could never bring herself to yield. + +<p>"Shall it be as I say?" said Rebecca; "and shall we, dear, be friends +while we live?" + +<p>"No," said Nina, suddenly. + +<p>"You cannot bring yourself to do so much for the man you love?" + +<p>"No, I cannot. Could you throw yourself from the bridge into the +Moldau, and drown yourself?" + +<p>"Yes," said Rebecca, "I could. If it would serve him, I think that I +could do so." + +<p>"What! in the dark, when it is so cold? The people would see you in the +daytime." + +<p>"But I would live, that I might hear of his doings, and see his +success." + +<p>"Ah! I could not live without feeling that he loved me." + +<p>"But what will you think of his love when it has ruined him? Will it be +pleasant then? Were I to do that, then — then I should bethink myself of +the cold river and the dark night, and the eyes of the passers-by whom +I should be afraid to meet in the daytime. I ask you to be as I am. Who +is there that pities me? Think again, Nina. I know you would wish that +he should be prosperous." + +<p>Nina did think again, and thought long. And she wept, and the Jewess +comforted her, and many words were said between them beyond those which +have been here set down; but, in the end, Nina could not bring herself +to say that she would give him up. For his sake had she not given up +her uncle and her aunt, and St John and St Nicholas — and the very +Virgin herself, whose picture she had now removed from the wall +beside her bed to a dark drawer? How could she give up that which was +everything she had in the world — the very life of her bosom? "I will +ask him — him himself," she said at last, hoarsely. "I will ask him, and +do as he bids me. I cannot do anything unless it is as he bids me." + +<p>"In this matter you must act on your own judgment, Nina." + +<p>"No, I will not. I have no judgment. He must judge for me in +everything. If he says it is better that we should part, then — then — +then I will let him go." + +<p>After this Rebecca left the room and the house. Before she went, she +kissed the Christian girl; but Nina did not remember that she had been +kissed. Her mind was so full, not of thought, but of the suggestion +that had been made to her, that it could now take no impression from +anything else. She had been recommended to do a thing as her duty — as +a paramount duty towards him who was everything to her — the doing of +which it would be impossible that she should survive. So she told +herself when she was once more alone, and had again seated herself in +the chair by the window. She did not for a moment accuse Rebecca of +dealing unfairly with her. It never occurred to her as possible that +the Jewess had come to her with false views of her own fabrication. +Had she so believed, her suspicions would have done great injustice to +her rival; but no such idea presented itself to Nina's mind. All that +Rebecca had said to her had come to her as though it were gospel. She +did believe that Trendellsohn, as a Jew, would injure himself greatly +by marrying a Christian. She did believe that the Jews of Prague would +treat him somewhat as the Christians would treat herself. For herself +such treatment would be nothing, if she were but once married; but she +could understand that to him it would be ruinous. And Nina believed +also that Rebecca had been entirely disinterested in her mission — that +she came thither, not to gain a lover for herself, but to save from +injury the man she loved, without reference to her own passion. Nina +knew that Rebecca was strong and good, and acknowledged also that she +herself was weak and selfish. She thought that she ought to have been +persuaded to make the sacrifice, and once or twice she almost resolved +that she would follow Rebecca to the Jews' quarter and tell her that it +should be made. But she could not do it. Were she to do so, what would +be left to her? With him she could bear anything, everything. To starve +would hardly be bitter to her, so that his arm could be round her +waist, and that her head could be on his shoulder. And, moreover, was +she not his to do with as he pleased? After all her promises to him, +how could she take upon herself to dispose of herself otherwise than as +he might direct? + +<p>But then some thought of the missing document came back upon her, and +she remembered in her grief that he suspected her — that even now he +had some frightful doubt as to her truth to him — her faith, which was, +alas, alas! more firm and bright towards him than towards that heavenly +Friend whose aid would certainly suffice to bring her through all her +troubles, if only she could bring herself to trust as she asked it. But +she could trust only in him, and he doubted her! Would it not be better +to do as Rebecca said, and make the most of such contentment as might +come to her from her triumph over herself? That would be better — ten +times better than to be abandoned by him — to be deserted by her Jew +lover, because the Jew would not trust her, a Christian! On either side +there could be nothing for her but death; but there is a choice even of +deaths. If she did the thing herself, she thought that there might be +something sweet even in the sadness of her last hour — something of the +flavour of sacrifice. But should it be done by him, in that way there +lay nothing but the madness of desolation! It was her last resolve, as +she still sat at the window counting the sparrows in the yard, that she +would tell him everything, and leave it to him to decide. If he would +say that it was better for them to part, then he might go; and Rebecca +Loth might become his wife, if he so wished it. +<br> +<br> +<a name="chapt11"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XI</h3> +</center> + +<p>On one of these days old Trendellsohn went to the office of Karil +Zamenoy, in the Ross Markt, with the full determination of learning in +truth what there might be to be learned as to that deed which would be +so necessary to him, or to those who would come after him, when Josef +Balatka might die. He accused himself of having been foolishly +soft-hearted in his transactions with this Christian, and reminded himself +from time to time that no Jew in Prague would have been so treated by +any Christian. And what was the return made to him? Among them they had +now secreted that of which he should have enforced the rendering before +he had parted with his own money; and this they did because they knew +that he would be unwilling to take harsh legal proceedings against a +bed-ridden old man! In this frame of mind he went to the Ross Markt, +and there he was assured over and over again by Ziska Zamenoy — for +Karil Zamenoy was not to be seen — that Nina Balatka had the deed in her +own keeping. The name of Nina Balatka was becoming very grievous to the +old man. Even he, when the matter had first been broached to him, had +not recognised all the evils which would come from a marriage between +his son and a Christian maiden; but of late his neighbours had been +around him, and he had looked into the thing, and his eyes had been +opened, and he had declared to himself that he would not take a +Christian girl into his house as his daughter-in-law. He could not +prevent the marriage. The law would be on his son's side. The law of +the Christian kingdom in which he lived allowed such marriages, and +Anton, if he executed the contract which would make the marriage valid, +would in truth be the girl's husband. But — and Trendellsohn, as he +remembered the power which was still in his hands, almost regretted +that he held it — if this thing were done, his son must go out from his +house, and be his son no longer. + +<p>The old man was very proud of his son. Rebecca had said truly that no +Jew in Prague was so respected among Jews as Anton Trendellsohn. She +might have added, also, that none was more highly esteemed among +Christians. To lose such a son would be a loss indeed. "I will share +everything with him, and he shall go away out of Bohemia," Trendellsohn +had said to himself. "He has earned it, and he shall have it. He has +worked for me — for us both — without asking me, his father, to bind +myself with any bond. He shall have the wealth which is his own, but he +shall not have it here. Ah! if he would but take that other one as his +bride, he should have everything, and his father's blessing — and then +he would be the first instead of the last among his people." Such was +the purpose of Stephen Trendellsohn towards his son; but this, his real +purpose, did not hinder him from threatening worse things. To prevent +the marriage was his great object; and if threats would prevent it, why +should he not use them? + +<p>But now he had conceived the idea that Nina was deceiving his son — that +Nina was in truth holding back the deed with some view which he could +hardly fathom. Ziska Zamenoy had declared, with all the emphasis in +his power, that the document was, to the best of his belief, in Nina's +hands; and though Ziska's emphasis would not have gone far in +convincing the Jew, had the Jew's mind been turned in the other +direction, now it had its effect. "And who gave it her?" Trendellsohn +had asked. "Ah, there you must excuse me," Ziska had answered; "though, +indeed, I could not tell you if I would. But we have nothing to do with +the matter. We have no claim upon the houses. It is between you and the +Balatkas." Then the Jew had left the Zamenoys' office, and had gone +home, fully believing that the deed was in Nina's hands. + +<p>"Yes, it is so — she is deceiving you," he said to his son that evening. + +<p>"No father. I think not." + +<p>"Very well. You will find, when it is too late, that my words are true. +Have you ever known a Christian who thought it wrong to rob a Jew?" + +<p>"I do not believe that Nina would rob me." + +<p>"Ah! that is the confidence of what you call love. She is honest, you +think, because she has a pretty face." + +<p>"She is honest, I think, because she loves me." + +<p>"Bah! Does love make men honest, or women either? Do we not see every +day how these Christians rob each other in their money dealings when +they are marrying? What was the girl's name? — old Thibolski's daughter + — how they robbed her when they married her, and how her people tried +their best to rob the lad she married. Did we not see it all?" + +<p>"It was not the girl who did it — not the girl herself." + +<p>"Why should a woman be honester than a man? I tell you, Anton, that +this girl has the deed." + +<p>"Ziska Zamenoy has told you so?" + +<p>"Yes, he has told me. But I am not a man to be deceived because such a +one as Ziska wishes to deceive me. You, at least, know me better than +that. That which I tell you, Ziska himself believes." + +<p>"But Ziska may believe wrongly." + +<p>"Why should he do so? Whose interest can it be to make this thing seem +so, if it be not so? If the girl have the deed, you can get it more +readily from her than from the Zamenoys. Believe me, Anton, the deed is +with the girl." + +<p>"If it be so, I shall never believe again in the truth of a human +being," said the son. + +<p>"Believe in the truth of your own people," said the father. "Why should +you seek to be wiser than them all?" + +<p>The father did not convince the son, but the words which he had spoken +helped to create a doubt which already had almost an existence of its +own. Anton Trendellsohn was prone to suspicions, and now was beginning +to suspect Nina, although he strove hard to keep his mind free from +such taint. His better nature told him that it was impossible that she +should deceive him. He had read the very inside of her heart, and knew +that her only delight was in his love. He understood perfectly the +weakness and faith and beauty of her feminine nature, and her trusting, +leaning softness was to his harder spirit as water to a thirsting +man in the desert. When she clung to him, promising to obey him in +everything, the touch of her hands, and the sound of her voice, and the +beseeching glance of her loving eyes, were food and drink to him. He +knew that her presence refreshed him and cooled him — made him young +as he was growing old, and filled his mind with sweet thoughts which +hardly came to him but when she was with him. He had told himself over +and over again that it must be good for him to have such a one for his +wife, whether she were Jew or Christian. He knew himself to be a better +man when she was with him than at other moments of his life. And then +he loved her. He was thinking of her hourly, though his impatience to +see her was not as hers to be with him. He loved her. But yet — yet — +what if she should be deceiving him? To be able to deceive others, but +never to be deceived himself, was to him, unconsciously, the glory +which he desired. To be deceived was to be disgraced. What was all his +wit and acknowledged cunning if a girl — a Christian girl — could outwit +him? For himself, he could see clearly enough into things to be +aware that, as a rule, he could do better by truth than he could by +falsehood. He was not prone to deceive others. But in such matters he +desired ever to have the power with him to keep, as it were, the upper +hand. He would fain read the hearts of others entirely, and know their +wishes, and understand their schemes, whereas his own heart and his own +desires and his own schemes should only be legible in part. What if, +after all, he were unable to read the simple tablets of this girl's +mind — tablets which he had regarded as being altogether in his own +keeping? + +<p>He went forth for a while, walking slowly through the streets, as he +thought of this, wandering without an object, but turning over in his +mind his father's words. He knew that his father was anxious to prevent +his marriage. He knew that every Jew around him — for now the Jews +around him had all heard of it — was keenly anxious to prevent so great +a disgrace. He knew all that his father had threatened, and he was well +aware how complete was his father's power. But he could stand against +all that, if only Nina were true to him. He would go away from Prague. +What did it matter? Prague was not all the world. There were cities +better, nobler, richer than Prague, in which his brethren, the Jews, +would not turn their backs upon him because he had married a Christian. +It might be that he would have to begin the world again; but for that, +too, he would be prepared. Nina had shown that she could bear poverty. +Nina's torn boots and threadbare dress, and the utter absence of any +request ever made with regard to her own comfort, had not been lost +upon him. He knew how noble she was in bearing — how doubly noble she +was in never asking. If only there was nothing of deceit at the back to +mar it all! + +<p>He passed over the bridge, hardly knowing whither he was going, and +turned directly down towards Balatka's house. As he did so he observed +that certain repairs were needed in an adjoining building which +belonged to his father, and determined that a mason should be sent +there on the next day. Then he turned in under the archway, not passing +through it into the court, and there he stood looking up at the window, +in which Nina's small solitary lamp was twinkling. He knew that she was +sitting by the light, and that she was working. He knew that she would +be raised almost to a seventh heaven of delight if he would only call +her to the door and speak to her a dozen words before he returned to +his home. But he had no thought of doing it. Was it possible that she +should have this document in her keeping? — that was the thought that +filled his mind. He had bribed Lotta Luxa, and Lotta had sworn by her +Christian gods that the deed was in Nina's hands. If the thing was +false, why should they all conspire to tell the same falsehood? And yet +he knew that they were false in their natures. Their manner, the words +of each of them, betrayed something of falsehood to his well-tuned +ear, to his acute eye, to his sharp senses. But with Nina — from Nina +herself — everything that came from her spoke of truth. A sweet savour +of honesty hung about her breath, and was a blessing to him when he +was near enough to her to feel it. And yet he told himself that he was +bound to doubt. He stood for some half-hour in the archway, leaning +against the stonework at the side, and looking up at the window where +Nina was sitting. What was he to do? How should he carry himself in +this special period of his life? Great ideas about the destiny of his +people were mingled in his mind with suspicions as to Nina, of which he +should have been, and probably was, ashamed. He would certainly take +her away from Prague. He had already perceived that his marriage with a +Christian would be regarded in that stronghold of prejudice in which +he lived with so much animosity as to impede, and perhaps destroy, the +utility of his career. He would go away, taking Nina with him. And he +would be careful that she should never know, by a word or a look, that +he had in any way suffered for her sake. And he swore to himself that +he would be soft to her, and gentle, loving her with a love more +demonstrative than he had hitherto exhibited. He knew that he had been +stern, exacting, and sometimes harsh. All that should be mended. He had +learned her character, and perceived how absolutely she fed upon his +love; and he would take care that the food should always be there, +palpably there, for her sustenance. But — but he must try her yet once +more before all this could be done for her. She must pass yet once +again through the fire; and if then she should come forth as gold, she +should be to him the one pure ingot which the earth contained. With how +great a love would he not repay her in future days for all that she +would have suffered for his sake? + +<p>But she must be made to go through the fire again. He would tax her +with the possession of the missing deed, and call upon her to cleanse +herself from the accusation which was made against her. Once again he +would be harsh with her — harsh in appearance only — in order that his +subsequent tenderness might be so much more tender! She had already +borne much, and she must be made to endure once again. Did not he mean +to endure much for her sake? Was he not prepared to recommence the +troubles and toil of his life all from the beginning, in order that +she might be that life's companion? Surely he had the right to put her +through the fire, and prove her as never gold was proved before. + +<p>At last the little light was quenched, and Anton Trendellsohn felt +that he was alone. The unseen companion of his thoughts was no longer +with him, and it was useless for him to remain there standing in the +archway. He blew her a kiss from his lips, and blessed her in his +heart, and protested to himself that he knew she would come out of the +fire pure altogether and proved to be without dross. And then he went +his way. In the mean time Nina, chill and wretched, crept to her cold +bed, all unconscious of the happiness that had been so near her. "If he +thinks I can be false to him, it will be better to die," she said to +herself, as she drew the scanty clothing over her shivering shoulders. + +<p>As she did so her lover walked home, and having come to a resolution +which was intended to be definite as to his love, he allowed his +thoughts to run away with him to other subjects. After all, it would +be no evil to him to leave Prague. At Prague how little was there of +progress either in thought or in things material! At Prague a Jew could +earn money, and become rich — might own half the city; and yet at Prague +he could only live as an outcast. As regarded the laws of the land, he, +as a Jew, might fix his residence anywhere in Prague or around Prague; +he might have gardens, and lands, and all the results of money; he +might put his wife into a carriage twice as splendid as that which +constituted the great social triumph of Madame Zamenoy — but so strong +against such a mode of life were the traditional prejudices of +both Jews and Christians, that any such fashion of living would be +absolutely impossible to him. It would not be good for him that he +should remain at Prague. Knowing his father as he did, he could not +believe that the old man would be so unjust as to let him go altogether +empty-handed. He had toiled, and had been successful; and something of +the corn which he had garnered would surely be rendered to him. With +this — or, if need be, without it — he and his Christian wife would go +forth and see if the world was not wide enough to find them a spot on +which they might live without the contempt of those around them. + +<p>Though Nina had quenched her lamp and had gone to bed, it was not late +when Trendellsohn reached his home, and he knew that he should find his +father waiting for him. But his father was not alone. Rebecca Loth was +sitting with the old man, and they had just supped together when Anton +entered the room. Ruth Jacobi was also there, waiting till her friend +should go, before she also went to her bed. + +<p>"How are you, Anton?" said Rebecca, giving her hand to the man she +loved. "It is strange to see you in these days." + +<p>"The strangeness, Rebecca, comes from no fault of my own. Few men, I +fancy, are more constant to their homes than I am." + +<p>"You sleep here and eat here, I daresay." + +<p>"My business lies mostly out, about the town." + +<p>"Have you been about business now, uncle Anton?" said Ruth. + +<p>"Do not ask forward questions, Ruth," said the uncle. "Rebecca, I fear, +teaches you to forget that you are still a child." + +<p>"Do not scold her," said the old man. "She is a good girl." + +<p>"It is Anton that forgets that nature is making Ruth a young woman," +said Rebecca. + +<p>"I do not want to be a young woman a bit before uncle Anton likes it," +said Ruth. "I don't mind waiting ever so long for him. When he is +married he will not care what I am." + +<p>"If that be so, you may be a woman very soon," said Rebecca. + +<p>"That is more than you know," said Anton, turning very sharply on her. +"What do you know of my marriage, or when it will be?" + +<p>"Are you scolding her too?" said the elder Trendellsohn. + +<p>"Nay, father; let him do so," said Rebecca. "He has known me long +enough to scold me if he thinks that I deserve it. You are gentle to me +and spoil me, and it is only well that one among my old friends should +be sincere enough to be ungentle." + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Rebecca, if I have been uncourteous." + +<p>"There can be no pardon where there is no offence." + +<p>"If you are ashamed to hear of your marriage," said the father, "you +should be ashamed to think of it." + +<p>Then there was silence for a few seconds before anyone spoke. The girls +did not dare to speak after words so serious from the father to the +son. It was known to both of them that Anton could hardly bring himself +to bear a rebuke even from his father, and they felt that such a rebuke +as this, given in their presence, would be altogether unendurable. +Every one in the room understood the exact position in which each +stood to the other. That Rebecca would willingly have become Anton's +wife, that she had refused various offers of marriage in order that +ultimately it might be so, was known to Stephen Trendellsohn, and to +Anton himself, and to Ruth Jacobi. There had not been the pretence of +any secret among them in the matter. But the subject was one which +could hardly be discussed by them openly. "Father," said Anton, after a +while, during which the black thunder-cloud which had for an instant +settled on his brow had managed to dispel itself without bursting into +a visible storm — "father, I am neither ashamed to think of my intended +marriage nor to speak of it. There is no question of shame. But it is +unpleasant to make such a subject matter of general conversation when +it is a source of trouble instead of joy among us. I wish I could have +made you happy by my marriage." + +<p>"You will make me very wretched." + +<p>"Then let us not talk about it. It cannot be altered. You would not +have me false to my plighted word?" + +<p>Again there was silence for some minutes, and then Rebecca spoke — the +words coming from her in the lowest possible accents. + +<p>"It can be altered without breach of your plighted word. Ask the young +woman what she herself thinks. You will find that she knows that you +are both wrong." + +<p>"Of course she knows it," said the father. + +<p>"I will ask her nothing of the kind," said the son. + +<p>"It would be of no use," said Ruth. + +<p>After this Rebecca rose to take her leave, saying something of the +falseness of her brother Samuel, who had promised to come for her and +to take her home. "But he is with Miriam Harter," said Rebecca, "and, +of course, he will forget me." + +<p>"I will go home with you," said Anton. + +<p>"Indeed you shall not. Do you think I cannot walk alone through our own +streets in the dark without being afraid?" + +<p>"I am well aware that you are afraid of nothing; but nevertheless, if +you will allow me, I will accompany you." There was no sufficient cause +for her to refuse his company, and the two left the house together. + +<p>As they descended the stairs, Rebecca determined that she would +have the first word in what might now be said between them. She had +suggested that this marriage with the Christian girl might be abandoned +without the disgrace upon Anton of having broken his troth, and she had +thereby laid herself open to a suspicion of having worked for her own +ends — of having done so with unmaidenly eagerness to gratify her own +love. Something on the subject must be said — would be said by him if +not by her — and therefore she would explain herself at once. She spoke +as soon as she found herself by his side in the street. "I regretted +what I said up-stairs, Anton, as soon as the words were out of my +mouth." + +<p>"I do not know that you said anything to regret." + +<p>"I told you that if in truth you thought this marriage to be wrong — " + +<p>"Which I do not." + +<p>"Pardon me, my friend, for a moment. If you had so thought, I said that +there was a mode of escape without falsehood or disgrace. In saying so +I must have seemed to urge you to break away from Nina Balatka." + +<p>"You are all urging me to do that." + +<p>"Coming from the others, such advice cannot even seem to have an +improper motive." Here she paused, feeling the difficulty of her task — +aware that she could not conclude it without an admission which no +woman willingly makes. But she shook away the impediment, bracing +herself to the work, and went on steadily with her speech. "Coming from +me, such motive may be imputed — nay, it must be imputed." + +<p>"No motive is imputed that is not believed by me to be good and healthy +and friendly." + +<p>"Our friends," continued Rebecca, "have wished that you and I should be +husband and wife. That is now impossible." + +<p>"It is impossible — because Nina will be my wife." + +<p>"It is impossible, whether Nina should become your wife or should not +become your wife. I do not say this from any girlish pride. Before I +knew that you loved a Christian woman, I would willingly have been — as +our friends wished. You see I can trust you enough for candour. When +I was young they told me to love you, and I obeyed them. They told +me that I was to be your wife, and I taught myself to be happy in +believing them. I now know that they were wrong, and I will endeavour +to teach myself another happiness." + +<p>"Rebecca, if I have been in fault — " + +<p>"You have never been in fault. You are by nature too stern to fall into +such faults. It has been my misfortune — perhaps rather I should say +my difficulty — that till of late you have given me no sign by which I +could foresee my lot. I was still young, and I still believed what they +told me, even though you did not come to me as lovers come. Now I know +it all; and as any such thoughts — or wishes, if you will — as those I +used to have can never return to me, I may perhaps be felt by you to be +free to use what liberty of counsel old friendship may give me. I know +you will not misunderstand me — and that is all. Do not come further +with me." + +<p>He called to her, but she was gone, escaping from him with quick +running feet through the dark night; and he returned to his father's +house, thinking of the girl that had left him. +<br> +<br> +<a name="chapt12"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XII</h3> +</center> + +<p>Again some days passed by without any meeting between Nina and her +lover, and things were going very badly with the Balatkas in the old +house. The money that had come from the jeweller was not indeed all +expended, but Nina looked upon it as her last resource, till marriage +should come to relieve her; and the time of her marriage seemed to be +as far from her as ever. So the kreutzers were husbanded as only a +woman can husband them, and new attempts were made to reduce the little +expenses of the little household. + +<p>"Souchey, you had better go. You had indeed," said Nina. "We cannot +feed you." Now Souchey had himself spoken of leaving them some days +since, urged to do so by his Christian indignation at the abominable +betrothal of his mistress. "You said the other day that you would do +so, and it will be better." + +<p>"But I shall not." + +<p>"Then you will be starved." + +<p>"I am starved already, and it cannot be worse. I dined yesterday on +what they threw out to the dogs in the meat-market." + +<p>"And where will you dine to-day?" + +<p>"Ah, I shall dine better to-day. I shall get a meal in the Windberg-gasse." + +<p>"What! at my aunt's house?" + +<p>"Yes; at your aunt's house. They live well there, even in the kitchen. +Lotta will have for me some hot soup, a mess of cabbage, and a sausage. +I wish I could bring it away from your aunt's house to the old man and +yourself." + +<p>"I would sooner fall in the gutter than eat my aunt's meat." + +<p>"That is all very fine for you, but I am not going to marry a Jewess. +Why should I quarrel with your aunt, or with Lotta Luxa? If you would +give up the Jew, Nina, your aunt's house would be open to you; yes — and +Ziska's house." + +<p>"I will not give up the Jew," said Nina, with flashing eyes. + +<p>"I suppose not. But what will you do when he gives you up? What if +Ziska then should not be so forward?" + +<p>"Of all those who are my enemies, and whom I hate because they are so +cruel, I hate Ziska the worst. Go and tell him so, since you are +becoming one of them. In doing so much you cannot at any rate do me +harm." + +<p>Then she took herself off, forgetting in her angry spirit the +prudential motives which had induced her to begin the conversation with +Souchey. But Souchey, though he was going to Madame Zamenoy's house to +get his dinner, and was looking forward with much eagerness to the mess +of hot cabbage and the cold sausage, had by no means become "one of +them" in the Windberg-gasse. He had had more than one interview of late +with Lotta Luxa, and had perceived that something was going on, of +which he much desired to be at the bottom. Lotta had some scheme, which +she was half willing and half unwilling to reveal to him, by which she +hoped to prevent the threatened marriage between Nina and the Jew. Now +Souchey was well enough inclined to take a part in such a scheme — +provided it did not in any way make him a party with the Zamenoys in +things general against the Balatkas. It was his duty as a Christian — +though he himself was rather slack in the performance of his own +religious duties — to put a stop to this horrible marriage if he could +do so; but it behoved him to be true to his master and mistress, and +especially true to them in opposition to the Zamenoys. He had in some +sort been carrying on a losing battle against the Zamenoys all his +life, and had some of the feelings of a martyr, telling himself that +he had lost a rich wife by doing so. He would go on this occasion and +eat his dinner and be very confidential with Lotta; but he would be +very discreet, would learn more than he told, and, above all, would not +betray his master or mistress. + +<p>Soon after he was gone, Anton Trendellsohn came over to the Kleinseite, +and, ringing at the bell of the house, received admission from Nina +herself. "What! you, Anton?" she said, almost jumping into his arms, +and then restraining herself. "Will you come up? It is so long since I +have seen you." + +<p>"Yes — it is long. I hope the time is soon coming when there shall be no +more of such separation." + +<p>"Is it? Is it indeed?" + +<p>"I trust it is." + +<p>"I suppose as a maiden I ought to be coy, and say that I would prefer +to wait; but, dearest love, sorrow and trouble have banished all that. +You will not love me less because I tell you that I count the minutes +till I may be your wife." + +<p>"No; I do not love you less on that account. I would have you be true +and faithful in all things." + +<p>Though the words themselves were assuring, there was something in the +tone of his voice which repressed her. "To you I am true and faithful +in all things; as faithful as though you were already my husband. What +were you saying of a time that is soon coming?" + +<p>He did not answer her question, but turned the subject away into +another channel. "I have brought something for you," he said — "something +which I hope you will be glad to have." + +<p>"Is it a present? she asked. As yet he had never given her anything +that she could call a gift, and it was to her almost a matter of pride +that she had taken nothing from her Jew lover, and that she would take +nothing till it should be her right to take everything. + +<p>"Hardly a present; but you shall look at it as you will. You remember +Rapinsky, do you not?" Now Rapinsky was the jeweller in the Grosser +Ring, and Nina, though she well remembered the man and the shop, did +not at the moment remember the name. "You will not have forgotten this +at any rate," said Trendellsohn, bringing the necklace from out of his +pocket. + +<p>"How did you get it?" said Nina, not putting out her hand to take it, +but looking at it as it lay upon the table. + +<p>"I thought you would be glad to have it back again." + +<p>"I should be glad if — " + +<p>"If what? Will it be less welcome because it comes through my hands?" + +<p>"The man lent me money upon it, and you must have paid the money." + +<p>"What if I have? I like your pride, Nina; but be not too proud. Of +course I have paid the money. I know Rapinsky, who deals with us often. +I went to him after you spoke to me, and got it back again. There is +your mother's necklace." + +<p>"I am sorry for this, Anton." + +<p>"Why sorry?" + +<p>"We are so poor that I shall be driven to take it elsewhere again. I +cannot keep such a thing in the house while father wants. But better he +should want than — " + +<p>"Than what, Nina?" + +<p>"There would be something like cheating in borrowing money on the same +thing twice." + +<p>"Then put it by, and I will be your lender." + +<p>"No; I will not borrow from you. You are the only one in the world that +I could never repay. I cannot borrow from you. Keep this thing, and if +I am ever your wife, then you shall give it me." + +<p>"If you are ever my wife?" + +<p>"Is there no room for such an if? I hope there is not, Anton. I wish it +were as certain as the sun's rising. But people around us are so cruel! +It seems, sometimes, as though the world were against us. And then you, +yourself — " + +<p>"What of me myself, Nina?" + +<p>"I do not think you trust me altogether; and unless you trust me, I +know you will not make me your wife." + +<p>"That is certain; and yet I do not doubt that you will be my wife." + +<p>"But do you trust me? Do you believe in your heart of hearts that I +know nothing of that paper for which you are searching?" She paused +for a reply, but he did not at once make any. "Tell me," she went +on saying, with energy, "are you sure that I am true to you in that +matter, as in all others? Though I were starving — and it is nearly so +with me already — and though I loved you beyond even all heaven, as I +do, I do — I would not become your wife if you doubted me in any tittle. +Say that you doubt me, and then it shall be all over." Still he did not +speak. "Rebecca Loth will be a fitter wife for you than I can be," said +Nina. + +<p>"If you are not my wife, I shall never have a wife," said Trendellsohn. + +<p>In her ecstasy of delight, as she heard these words, she took up his +hand and kissed it; but she dropped it again, as she remembered that +she had not yet received the assurance that she needed. "But you do +believe me about this horrid paper?" + +<p>It was necessary that she should be made to go again through the fire. +In deliberate reflection he had made himself aware that such necessity +still existed. It might be that she had some inner reserve as to duty +towards her father. There was, possibly, some reason which he could +not fathom why she should still keep something back from him in this +matter. He did not, in truth, think that it was so, but there was the +chance. There was the chance, and he could not bear to be deceived. He +felt assured that Ziska Zamenoy and Lotta Luxa believed that this deed +was in Nina's keeping. Indeed, he was assured that all the household of +the Zamenoys so believed. "If there be a God above us, it is there," +Lotta had said, crossing herself. He did not think it was there; he +thought that Lotta was wrong, and that all the Zamenoys were wrong, by +some mistake which he could not fathom; but still there was the chance, +and Nina must be made to bear this additional calamity. + +<p>"Do you think it impossible," said he, "that you should have it among +your own things?" + +<p>"What! without knowing that I have it?" she asked. + +<p>"It may have come to you with other papers," he said, "and you may not +quite have understood its nature." + +<p>"There, in that desk, is every paper that I have in the world. You +can look if you suspect me. But I shall not easily forgive you for +looking." Then she threw down the key of her desk upon the table. He +took it up and fingered it, but did not move towards the desk. "The +greatest treasure there," she said, "are scraps of your own, which I +have been a fool to value, as they have come from a man who does not +trust me." + +<p>He knew that it would be useless for him to open the desk. If she were +secreting anything from him, she was not hiding it there. "Might it not +possibly be among your clothes?" he asked. + +<p>"I have no clothes," she answered, and then strode off across the wide +room towards the door of her father's apartment. But after she had +grasped the handle of the door, she turned again upon her lover. "It +may, however, be well that you should search my chamber and my bed. If +you will come with me, I will show you the door. You will find it to be +a sorry place for one who was your affianced bride." + +<p>"Who <i>is</i> my affianced bride," said Trendellsohn. + +<p>"No, sir! — who was, but is so no longer. You will have to ask my +pardon, at my feet, before I will let you speak to me again as my +lover. Go and search. Look for your deed — and then you shall see that +I will tear out my own heart rather than submit to the ill-usage of +distrust from one who owes me so much faith as you do." + +<p>"Nina," he said. + +<p>"Well, sir." + +<p>"I do trust you." + +<p>"Yes — with a half trust — with one eye closed, while the other is +watching me. You think you have so conquered me that I will be good to +you, and yet cannot keep yourself from listening to those who whisper +that I am bad to you. Sir, I fear they have been right when they told +me that a Jew's nature would surely shock me at last." + +<p>The dark frowning cloud, which she had so often observed with fear, +came upon his brow; but she did not fear him now. "And do you too taunt +me with my religion?" he said. + +<p>"No, not so — not with your religion, Anton; but with your nature." + +<p>"And how can I help my nature?" + +<p>"I suppose you cannot help it, and I am wrong to taunt you. I should +not have taunted you. I should only have said that I will not endure +the suspicion either of a Christian or of a Jew." + +<p>He came up to her now, and put out his arm as though he were about to +embrace her. "No," she said; "not again, till you have asked my pardon +for distrusting me, and have given me your solemn word that you +distrust me no longer." + +<p>He paused a moment in doubt, then put his hat on his head and prepared +to leave her. She had behaved very well, but still he would not be weak +enough to yield to her in everything at once. As to opening her desk, +or going up-stairs into her room, that he felt to be quite impossible. +Even his nature did not admit of that. But neither did his nature allow +him to ask her pardon and to own that he had been wrong. She had said +that he must implore her forgiveness at her feet. One word, however, +one look, would have sufficed. But that word and that look were, at the +present moment, out of his power. "Good-bye, Nina," he said. "It is +best that I should leave you now." + +<p>"By far the best; and you will take the necklace with you, if you +please." + +<p>"No; I will leave that. I cannot keep a trinket that was your +mother's." + +<p>"Take it, then, to the jeweller's, and get back your money. It shall +not be left here. I will have nothing from your hands." He was so far +cowed by her manner that he took up the necklace and left the house, +and Nina was once more alone. + +<p>What they had told her of her lover was after all true. That was the +first idea that occurred to her as she sat in her chair, stunned by +the sorrow that had come upon her. They had dinned into her ears their +accusations, not against the man himself, but against the tribe to +which he belonged, telling her that a Jew was, of his very nature, +suspicious, greedy, and false. She had perceived early in her +acquaintance with Anton Trendellsohn that he was clever, ambitious, +gifted with the power of thinking as none others whom she knew could +think; and that he had words at his command, and was brave, and was +endowed with a certain nobility of disposition which prompted him to +wish for great results rather than for small advantages. All this had +conquered her, and had made her resolve to think that a Jew could be as +good as a Christian. But now, when the trial of the man had in truth +come, she found that those around her had been right in what they had +said. How base must be the nature which could prompt a man to suspect +a girl who had been true to him as Nina had been true to her lover! + +<p>She would never see him again — never! He had left the room without even +answering the question which she had asked him. He would not even say +that he trusted her. It was manifest that he did not trust her, and +that he believed at this moment that she was endeavouring to rob him in +this matter of the deed. He had asked her if she had it in her desk or +among her clothes, and her very soul revolted from the suspicion so +implied. She would never speak to him again. It was all over. No; she +would never willingly speak to him again. + +<p>But what would she do? For a few minutes she fell back, as is so +natural with mortals in trouble, upon that religion which she had been +so willing to outrage by marrying the Jew. She went to a little drawer +and took out a string of beads which had lain there unused since she +had been made to believe that the Virgin and the saints would not +permit her marriage with Anton Trendellsohn. She took out the beads — +but she did not use them. She passed no berries through her fingers to +check the number of prayers said, for she found herself unable to say +any prayer at all. If he would come back to her, and ask her pardon — +ask it in truth at her feet — she would still forgive him, regardless +of the Virgin and the saints. And if he did not come back, what was +the fate that Lotta Luxa had predicted for her, and to which she had +acknowledged to herself that she would be driven to submit? In either +case how could she again come to terms with St John and St Nicholas? +And how was she to live? Should she lose her lover, as she now told +herself would certainly be her fate, what possibility of life was left +to her? From day to day and from week to week she had put off to a +future hour any definite consideration of what she and her father +should do in their poverty, believing that it might be postponed till +her marriage would make all things easy. Her future mode of living +had often been discussed between her and her lover, and she had been +candid enough in explaining to him that she could not leave her father +desolate. He had always replied that his wife's father should want for +nothing, and she had been delighted to think that she could with joy +accept that from her husband which nothing would induce her to accept +from her lover. This thought had sufficed to comfort her, as the evil +of absolute destitution was close upon her. Surely the day of her +marriage would come soon. + +<p>But now it seemed to her to be certain that the day of her marriage +would never come. All those expectations must be banished, and she must +look elsewhere — if elsewhere there might be any relief. She knew well +that if she would separate herself from the Jew, the pocket of her aunt +would be opened to relieve the distress of her father — would be opened +so far as to save the old man from perishing of want. Aunt Sophie, if +duly invoked, would not see her sister's husband die of starvation. +Nay, aunt Sophie would doubtless so far stretch her Christian charity +as to see that her niece was in some way fed, if that niece would be +duly obedient. Further still, aunt Sophie would accept her niece as +the very daughter of her house, as the rising mistress of her own +establishment, if that niece would only consent to love her son. Ziska +was there as a husband in Anton's place, if Ziska might only gain +acceptance. + +<p>But Nina, as she rose from her chair and walked backwards and forwards +through her chamber, telling herself all these things, clenched her +fist, and stamped her foot, as she swore to herself that she would +dare all that the saints could do to her, that she would face all the +terrors of the black dark river, before she would succumb to her cousin +Ziska. As she worked herself into wrath, thinking now of the man she +loved, and then of the man she did not love, she thought that she could +willingly perish — if it were not that her father lay there so old +and so helpless. Gradually, as she magnified to herself the terrible +distresses of her heart, the agony of her yearning love for a man who, +though he loved her, was so unworthy of her perfect faith, she began to +think that it would be well to be carried down by the quick, eternal, +almighty stream beyond the reach of the sorrow which encompassed her. +When her father should leave her she would be all alone — alone in the +world, without a friend to regard her, or one living human being on +whom she, a girl, might rely for protection, shelter, or even for a +morsel of bread. Would St Nicholas cover her from the contumely of the +world, or would St John of the Bridges feed her? Did she in her heart +of hearts believe that even the Virgin would assist her in such a +strait? No; she had no such belief. It might be that such real belief +had never been hers. She hardly knew. But she did know that now, in the +hour of her deep trouble, she could not say her prayers and tell her +beads, and trust valiantly that the goodness of heaven would suffice to +her in her need. + +<p>In the mean time Souchey had gone off to the Windberg-gasse, and had +gladdened himself with the soup, with the hot mess of cabbage and the +sausage, supplied by Madame Zamenoy's hospitality. The joys of such a +moment are unknown to any but those who, like Souchey, have been driven +by circumstances to sit at tables very ill supplied. On the previous +day he had fed upon offal thrown away from a butcher's stall, and habit +had made such feeding not unfamiliar to him. As he walked from the +Kleinseite through the Old Town to Madame Zamenoy's bright-looking +house in the New Town, he had comforted himself greatly with thoughts +of the coming feast. The representation which his imagination made to +him of the banquet sufficed to produce happiness, and he went along +hardly envying any man. His propensities at the moment were the +propensities of a beast. And yet he was submitting himself to the +terrible poverty which made so small a matter now a matter of joy to +him, because there was a something of nobility within him which made +him true to the master who had been true to him, when they had both +been young together. Even now he resolved, as he sharpened his teeth, +that through all the soup and all the sausage he would be true to the +Balatkas. He would be true even to Nina Balatka — though he recognised +it as a paramount duty to do all in his power to save her from the Jew. + +<p>He was seated at the table in the kitchen almost as soon as he had +entered the house in the Windberg-gasse, and found his plate full +before him. Lotta had felt that there was no need of the delicacy of +compliment in feeding a man who was so undoubtedly hungry, and she had +therefore bade him at once fall to. "A hearty meal is a thing you are +not used to," she had said, "and it will do your old bones a deal of +good." The address was not complimentary, especially as coming from a +lady in regard to whom he entertained tender feelings; but Souchey +forgave the something of coarse familiarity which the words displayed, +and, seating himself on the stool before the victuals, gave play to the +feelings of the moment. "There's no one to measure what's left of the +sausage," said Lotta, instigating him to new feats. + +<p>"Ain't there now?" said Souchey, responding to the sound of the +trumpet. "I always thought she had the devil's own eye in looking after +what was used in the kitchen." + +<p>"The devil himself winks sometimes," said Lotta, cutting another +half-inch off from the unconsumed fragment, and picking the skin from the +meat with her own fair fingers. Hitherto Souchey had been regardless of +any such niceness in his eating, the skin having gone with the rest; +but now he thought that the absence of the outside covering and the +touch of Lotta's fingers were grateful to his appetite. + +<p>"Souchey," said Lotta, when he had altogether done, and had turned his +stool round to the kitchen fire, "where do you think Nina would go if +she were to marry — a Jew?" There was an abrupt solemnity in the manner +of the question which at first baffled the man, whose breath was heavy +with the comfortable repletion which had been bestowed upon him. + +<p>"Where would she go to?" he said, repeating Lotta's words. + +<p>"Yes, Souchey, where would she go to? Where would be her eternal home? +What would become of her soul? Do you know that not a priest in Prague +would give her absolution though she were on her dying bed? Oh, holy +Mary, it's a terrible thing to think of! It's bad enough for the old +man and her to be there day after day without a morsel to eat; and I +suppose if it were not for Anton Trendellsohn it would be bad enough +with them — " + +<p>"Not a gulden, then, has Nina ever taken from the Jew — nor the value of +a gulden, as far as I can judge between them." + +<p>"What matters that, Souchey? Is she not engaged to him as his wife? Can +anything in the world be so dreadful? Don't you know she'll be — damned +for ever and ever?" Lotta, as she uttered the terrible words, brought +her face close to Souchey's, looking into his eyes with a fierce glare. +Souchey shook his head sorrowfully, owning thereby that his knowledge +in the matter of religion did not go to the point indicated by Lotta +Luxa. "And wouldn't anything, then, be a good deed that would prevent +that?" + +<p>"It's the priests that should do it among them." + +<p>"But the priests are not the men they used to be, Souchey. And it is +not exactly their fault neither. There are so many folks about in these +days who care nothing who goes to glory and who does not, and they are +too many for the priests." + +<p>"If the priests can't fight their own battle, I can't fight it for +them," said Souchey. + +<p>"But for the old family, Souchey, that you have known so long! Look +here; you and I between us can prevent it." + +<p>"And how is it to be done?" + +<p>"Ah! that's the question. If I felt that I was talking to a real +Christian that had a care for the poor girl's soul, I would tell you in +a moment." + +<p>"So I am; only her soul isn't my business." + +<p>"Then I cannot tell you this. I can't do it unless you acknowledge that +her welfare as a Christian is the business of us all. Fancy, Souchey, +your mistress married to a filthy Jew!" + +<p>"For the matter of that, he isn't so filthy neither." + +<p>"An abominable Jew! But, Souchey, she will never fall out with him. We +must contrive that he shall quarrel with her. If she had a thing about +her that he did not want her to have, couldn't you contrive that he +should know it?" + +<p>"What sort of thing? Do you mean another lover, like?" + +<p>"No, you gander. If there was anything of that sort I could manage it +myself. But if she had a thing locked up — away from him, couldn't you +manage to show it to him? He's very generous in rewarding, you know." + +<p>"I don't want to have anything to do with it," said Souchey, getting up +from his stool and preparing to take his departure. Though he had been +so keen after the sausage, he was above taking a bribe in such a matter +as this. + +<p>"Stop, Souchey, stop. I didn't think that I should ever have to ask +anything of you in vain." + +<p>Then she put her face very close to his, so that her lips touched his +ear, and she laid her hand heavily upon his arm, and she was very +confidential. Souchey listened to the whisper till his face grew longer +and longer. "'Tis for her soul," said Lotta — "for her poor soul's sake. +When you can save her by raising your hand, would you let her be damned +for ever?" + +<p>But she could exact no promise from Souchey except that he would keep +faith with her, and that he would consider deeply the proposal made to +him. Then there was a tender farewell between them, and Souchey +returned to the Kleinseite. +<br> +<br> +<a name="chapt13"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XIII</h3> +</center> + +<p>For two days after this Nina heard nothing from the Jews' quarter, and +in her terrible distress her heart almost became softened towards the +man who had so deeply offended her. She began to tell herself, in the +weariness of her sorrow, that men were different from women, and, of +their nature, more suspicious; that no woman had a right to expect +every virtue in her lover, and that no woman had less of such right +than she herself, who had so little to give in return for all that +Anton proposed to bestow upon her. She began to think that she could +forgive him, even for his suspicion, if he would only come to be +forgiven. But he came not, and it was only too plain to her that she +could not be the first to go to him after what had passed between them. +And then there fell another crushing sorrow upon her. Her father was +ill — so ill that he was like to die. The doctor came to him — some son +of Galen who had known the merchant in his prosperity — and, with kind +assurances, told Nina that her father, though he could pay nothing, +should have whatever assistance medical attention could give him; but +he said, at the same time, that medical attention could give no aid +that would be of permanent service. The light had burned down in the +socket, and must go out. The doctor took Nina by the hand, and put his +own hand upon her soft tresses, and spoke kind words to console her. +And then he said that the sick man ought to take a few glasses of wine +every day; and as he was going away, turned back again, and promised +to send the wine from his own house. Nina thanked him, and plucked up +something of her old spirit during his presence, and spoke to him as +though she had no other care than that of her father's health; but as +soon as the doctor was gone she thought again of her Jew lover. That +her father should die was a great grief. But when she should be alone +in the old house, with the corpse lying on the bed, would Anton +Trendellsohn come to her then? + +<p>He did not come to her now, though he knew of her father's illness. She +sent Souchey to the Jews' quarter to tell the sad news — not to him, but +to old Trendellsohn. "For the sake of the property it is right that he +should know," Nina said to herself, excusing to herself on this plea +her weakness in sending any message to the house of Anton Trendellsohn +till he should have come and asked her pardon. But even after this he +came not. She listened to every footstep that entered the courtyard. +She could not keep herself from going to the window, and from looking +into the square. Surely now, in her deep sorrow, in her solitude, he +would come to her. He would come and say one word — that he did trust +her, that he would trust her! But no; he came not at all; and the hours +of the day and the night followed slowly and surely upon each other, as +she sat by her father's bed watching the last quiver of the light in +the socket. + +<p>But though Trendellsohn did not come himself, there came to her a +messenger from the Jew's house — a messenger from the Jew's house, but +not a messenger from Anton Trendellsohn. "Here is a girl from the — +Jew," said Souchey, whispering into her ear as she sat at her father's +bedside — "one of themselves. Shall I tell her to go away, because he +is so ill?" And Souchey pointed to his master's head on the pillow. +"She has got a basket, but she can leave that." + +<p>Nina, however, was by no means inclined to send the Jewess away, +rightly guessing that the stranger was her friend Ruth. "Stop here, +Souchey, and I will go to her," Nina said. "Do not leave him till I +return. I will not be long." She would not have let a dog go without a +word that had come from Anton's house or from Anton's presence. Perhaps +he had written to her. If there were but a line to say, "Pardon me; I +was wrong," everything might yet be right. But Ruth Jacobi was the +bearer of no note from Anton, nor indeed had she come on her present +message with her uncle's knowledge. She had put a heavy basket on the +table, and now, running forward, took Nina by the hands, and kissed +her. + +<p>"We have been so sorry, all of us, to hear of your father's illness," +said Ruth. + +<p>"Father is very ill," said Nina. "He is dying." + +<p>"Nay, Nina; it may be that he is not dying. Life and death both are in +the hands of God." + +<p>"Yes; it is in God's hands of course; but the doctor says that he will +die." + +<p>"The doctors have no right to speak in that way," said Ruth, "for how +can they know God's pleasure? It may be that he will recover." + +<p>"Yes; it may be," said Nina. "It is good of you to come to me, Ruth. +I am so glad you have come. Have you any — any — message?" If he would +only ask to be forgiven through Ruth, or even if he had sent a word +that might be taken to show that he wished to be forgiven, it should +suffice. + +<p>"I have — brought — a few things in a basket," said Ruth, almost +apologetically. + +<p>Then Nina lifted the basket. "You did not surely carry this through the +streets?" + +<p>"I had Shadrach, our boy, with me. He carried it. It is not from me, +exactly; though I have been so glad to come with it." + +<p>"And who sent it?" said Nina, quickly, with her fingers trembling on +its lid. If Anton had thought to send anything to her, that anything +should suffice. + +<p>"It was Rebecca Loth who thought of it, and who asked me to come," said +Ruth. + +<p>Then Nina drew back her fingers as though they were burned, and walked +away from the table with quick angry steps. "Why should Rebecca Loth +send anything to me?" she said. "What is there in the basket?" + +<p>"She has written a little line. It is at the top. But she has asked me +to say — " + +<p>"What has she asked you to say? Why should she say anything to me?" + +<p>"Nay, Nina; she is very good, and she loves you." + +<p>"I do not want her love." + +<p>"I am to say to you that she has heard of your distress, and she hopes +that a girl like you will let a girl like her do what she can to +comfort you." + +<p>"She cannot comfort me." + +<p>"She bade me say that if she were ill or in sorrow, there is no hand +from which she would so gladly take comfort as from yours — for the +sake, she said, of a mutual friend." + +<p>"I have no — friend," said Nina. + +<p>"Oh, Nina, am not I your friend? Do not I love you?" + +<p>"I do not know. If you do love me now, you must cease to love me. You +are a Jewess, and I am a Christian, and we must live apart. You, at +least, must live. I wish you would tell the boy that he may take back +the basket." + +<p>"There are things in it for your father, Nina; and, Nina, surely you +will read Rebecca's note?" + +<p>Then Ruth went to the basket, and from the top she took out Rebecca's +letter, and gave it to Nina, and Nina read it. It was as follows: + +<br> +<br> + <table> + <tr><td width="7%"></td><td align="left"> + <i> + I shall always regard you as very dear to me, because our hearts + have been turned in the same way. It may not be perhaps that we + shall know each other much at first; but I hope the days may come + when we shall be much older than we are now, and that then we may + meet and be able to talk of what has passed without pain. I do not + know why a Jewess and a Christian woman should not be friends. + <br><br> + </i> + </td> + <tr><td></td><td> + <i> + I have sent a few things which may perhaps be of comfort to your + father. In pity to me do not refuse them. They are such as one + woman should send to another. And I have added a little trifle + for your own use. At the present moment you are poor as to money, + though so rich in the gifts which make men love. On my knees before + you I ask you to accept from my hand what I send, and to think of + me as one who would serve you in more things if it were possible. + Yours, if you will let me, affectionately, + </i> + </td> + <tr><td></td><td align="right"><i>REBECCA.</i></td> + <tr><td></td><td align="left"> + <i> + I see when I look at them that the shoes will be too big. + </i> + </td> + </table> + +<p>She stood for a while apart from Ruth, with the open note in her hand, +thinking whether or no she would accept the gifts which had been sent. +The words which Rebecca had written had softened her heart, especially +those in which the Jewess had spoken openly to her of her poverty. "At +the present moment you are poor as to money," the girl had said, and +had said it as though such poverty were, after all, but a small thing +in their relative positions one to another. That Nina should be loved, +and Rebecca not loved, was a much greater thing. For her father's sake +she would take the things sent — and for Rebecca's sake. She would take +even the shoes, which she wanted so sorely. She remembered well, as she +read the last word, how, when Rebecca had been with her, she herself +had pointed to the poor broken slippers which she wore, not meaning to +excite such compassion as had now been shown. Yes, she would accept it +all — as one woman should take such things from another. + +<p>"You will not make Shadrach carry them back?" said Ruth, imploring her. + +<p>"But he — has he sent nothing? — not a word?" She would have thought +herself to be utterly incapable, before Ruth had come, of showing so +much weakness; but her reserve gave way as she admitted in her own +heart the kindness of Rebecca, and she became conquered and humbled. +She was so terribly in want of his love at this moment! "And has he +sent no word of a message to me?" + +<p>"I did not tell him that I was coming." + +<p>"But he knows — he knows that father is so ill." + +<p>"Yes; I suppose he has heard that, because Souchey came to the house. +But he has been out of temper with us all, and unhappy, for some days +past. I know that he is unhappy when he is so harsh with us." + +<p>"And what has made him unhappy? + +<p>"Nay, I cannot tell you that. I thought perhaps it was because you did +not come to him. You used to come and see us at our house." + +<p>Dear Ruth! Dearest Ruth, for saying such dear words! She had done more +than Rebecca by the sweetness of the suggestion. If it were really the +case that he were unhappy because they had parted from each other in +anger, no further forgiveness would be necessary. + +<p>"But how can I come, Ruth?" she said. "It is he that should come to +me." + +<p>"You used to come." + +<p>"Ah, yes. I came first with messages from father, and then because I +loved to hear him talk to me. I do not mind telling you, Ruth, now. And +then I came because — because he said I was to be his wife. I thought +that if I was to be his wife it could not be wrong that I should go to +his father's house. But now that so many people know it — that they talk +about it so much — I cannot go to him now." + +<p>"But you are not ashamed of being engaged to him — because he is a Jew?" + +<p>"No," said Nina, raising herself to her full height; "I am not ashamed +of him. I am proud of him. To my thinking there is no man like him. +Compare him and Ziska, and Ziska becomes hardly a man at all. I am very +proud to think that he has chosen me." + +<p>"That is well spoken, and I shall tell him." + +<p>"No, you must not tell him, Ruth. Remember that I talk to you as a +friend, and not as a child." + +<p>"But I will tell him, because then his brow will become smooth, and he +will be happy. He likes to think that people know him to be clever; and +he will be glad to be told that you understand him." + +<p>"I think him greater and better than all men; but, Ruth, you must not +tell him what I say — not now, at least — for a reason." + +<p>"What reason, Nina?" + +<p>"Well; I will tell you, though I would not tell anyone else in the +world. When we parted last I was angry with him — very angry with him." + +<p>"He had been scolding you, perhaps?" + +<p>"I should not mind that — not in the least. He has a right to scold me." + +<p>"He has a right to scold me, I suppose; but I mind it very much." + +<p>"But he has no right to distrust me, Ruth. I wish he could see my heart +and all my mind, and know every thought in my breast, and then he would +feel that he could trust me. I would not deceive him by a word or a +look for all the world. He does not know how true I am to him, and that +kills me." + +<p>"I will tell him everything." + +<p>"No, Ruth; tell him nothing. If he cannot find it out without being +told, telling will do no good. If you thought a person was a thief, +would you change your mind because the person told you he was honest? +He must find it out for himself if he is ever to know it." + +<p>When Ruth was gone, Nina knew that she had been comforted. To have +spoken about her lover was in itself much; and to have spoken about him +as she had done seemed almost to have brought him once more near to +her. Ruth had declared that Anton was sad, and had suggested to Nina +that the cause of his sadness was the same as her own. There could not +but be comfort in this. If he really wished to see her, would he not +come over to the Kleinseite? There could be no reason why he should not +visit the girl he intended to marry, and whom he was longing to see. Of +course he had business which must occupy his time. He could not give up +every moment to thoughts of love, as she could do. She told herself all +this, and once more endeavoured to be comforted. + +<p>And then she unpacked the basket. There were fresh eggs, and a quantity +of jelly, and some soup in a jug ready to be made hot, and such +delicacies as invalids will eat when their appetites will serve for +nothing else. And Nina, as she took these things out, thought only of +her father. She took them as coming for him altogether, without any +reference to her own use. But at the bottom of the basket there were +stockings, and a handkerchief or two, and a petticoat, and a pair of +shoes. Should she throw them out among the ashes behind the kitchen, or +should she press them to her bosom as treasures to be loved as long as +a single thread of them might hang together? She had taken such alms +before — from her aunt Sophie — taking them in bitterness of spirit, and +wearing them as though they were made of sackcloth, very sore to the +skin. The acceptance of such things, even from her aunt, had been gall +to her; but, in the old days, no idea of refusing them had come to her. +Of course she must submit herself to her aunt's charity, because of her +father's poverty. And garments had come to her which were old and worn, +bearing unmistakable signs of Lotta's coarse but reparative energies — +raiment against which her feminine niceness would have rebelled, had it +been possible for her, in her misfortunes, to indulge her feminine +niceness. + +<p>But there was a sweet scent of last summer's roses on the things which +now lay in her lap, and each article was of the best; and, though each +had been worn, they were all such as one girl would lend to another who +was her dearest friend — who was to be made welcome to the wardrobe as +though it were her own. There was something of the tenderness of love +in the very folding, and respect as well as friendship in the care of +the packing. Her aunt's left-off clothes had come to her in a big roll, +fastened with a corking-pin. But Rebecca, with delicate fingers, had +made each article of her tribute to look pretty, as though for the +dress of such a one as Nina prettiness and care must always be needed. +It was not possible for her to refuse a present sent to her with so +many signs of tenderness. + +<p>And then she tried on the shoes. Of all the things she needed these +were the most necessary. At her first glance she thought that they were +new; but she perceived that they had been worn, and she liked them the +better on that account. She put her feet into them and found that they +were in truth a little too large for her. And this, even this, tended +in some sort to gratify her feelings and soothe the asperity of her +grief. "It is only a quarter of a size," she said to herself, as she +held up her dress that she might look at her feet. And thus she +resolved that she would accept her rival's kindness. + +<p>On the following morning the priest came — that Father Jerome whom she +had known as a child, and from whom she had been unable to obtain +ghostly comfort since she had come in contact with the Jew. Her aunt +and her father, Souchey and Lotta Luxa, had all threatened her with +Father Jerome; and when it had become manifest to her that it would be +necessary that the priest should visit her father in his extremity, she +had at first thought that it would be well for her to hide herself. +But the cowardice of this had appeared to her to be mean, and she had +resolved that she would meet her old friend at her father's bedside. +After all, what would his bitterest words be to her after such words +as she had endured from her lover? + +<p>Father Jerome came, and she received him in the parlour. She received +him with downcast eyes and a demeanour of humility, though she was +resolved to flare up against him if he should attack her too cruelly. +But the man was as mild to her and as kind as ever he had been in her +childhood, when he would kiss her, and call her his little nun, and +tell her that if she would be a good girl she should always have a +white dress and roses at the festival of St Nicholas. He put his hand +on her head and blessed her, and did not seem to have any abhorrence of +her because she was going to marry a Jew. And yet he knew it. + +<p>He asked a few words as to her father, who was indeed better on this +morning than he had been for the last few days, and then he passed on +into the sick man's room. And there, after a few faintest words of +confession from the sick man, Nina knelt by her father's bedside, while +the priest prayed for them both, and forgave the sinner his sins, and +prepared him for his further journey with such preparation as the +extreme unction of his Church would afford. + +<p>When the prayer and the ceremony were over, and the viaticum had been +duly administered, the priest returned into the parlour, and Nina +followed him. "He is stronger than I had expected to find him," said +Father Jerome. + +<p>"He has rallied a little, Father, because you were coming. You may be +sure that he is very ill." + +<p>"I know that he is very ill, but I think that he may still last some +days. Should it be so, I will come again." After that Nina thought that +the priest would have gone; but he paused for a few moments as though +hesitating, and then spoke again, putting down his hat, which he had +taken up. "But what is all this that I hear about you, Nina?" + +<p>"All what?" said Nina, blushing. + +<p>"They tell me that you have engaged yourself to marry Anton +Trendellsohn, the Jew." + +<p>She stood before him confessing her guilt by her silence. "Is it true, +Nina?" he asked. + +<p>"It is true." + +<p>"I am very sorry for that — very sorry. Could you not bring yourself to +love some Christian youth, rather than a Jew? Would it not be better, +do you think, to do so — for your soul's sake?" + +<p>"It is too late now, Father." + +<p>"Too late! No; it can never be too late to repent of evil." + +<p>"But why should it be evil, Father Jerome? It is permitted; is it not?" + +<p>"The law permits it, certainly." + +<p>"And when I am a Jew's wife, may I not go to mass?" + +<p>"Yes; you may go to mass. Who can hinder you?" + +<p>"And if I pray devoutly, will not the saints hear me?" + +<p>"It is not for me to limit their mercy. I think that they will hear all +prayers that are addressed to them with faith and humility." + +<p>"And you, Father, will you not give me absolution if I am a Jew's +wife?" + +<p>"I would ten times sooner give it you as the wife of a Christian, Nina. +My absolution would be nothing to you, Nina, if the while you had a +deep sin upon your conscience." Then the priest went, being unwilling +to endure further questioning, and Nina seated herself in a glow of +triumph. And this was the worst that she would have to endure from the +Church after all her aunt's threatenings — after Lotta's bitter words, +and the reproaches of all around her! Father Jerome — even Father +Jerome himself, who was known to be the strictest priest on that side +of the river in opposing the iniquities of his flock — did not take upon +himself to say that her case as a Christian would be hopeless, were she +to marry the Jew! After that she went to the drawer in her bedroom, and +restored the picture of the Virgin to its place. +<br> +<br> +<a name="chapt14"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XIV</h3> +</center> + +<p>Father Jerome had been very mild with Nina, but his mildness did not +produce any corresponding feelings of gentleness in the breasts of +Nina's relatives in the Windberg-gasse. Indeed, it had the contrary +effect of instigating Madame Zamenoy and Lotta Luxa to new exertions. +Nina, in her triumph, could not restrain herself from telling Souchey +that Father Jerome did not by any means think so badly of her as did +the others; and Souchey, partly in defence of Nina, and partly in +quest of further sound information on the knotty religious difficulty +involved, repeated it all to Lotta. Among them they succeeded in +cutting Souchey's ground from under him as far as any defence of Nina +was concerned, and they succeeded also in solving his religious doubts. +Poor Souchey was at last convinced that the best service he could +tender to his mistress was to save her from marrying the Jew, let the +means by which this was to be done be, almost, what they might. + +<p>As the result of this teaching, Souchey went late one afternoon to +the Jews' quarter. He did not go thither direct from the house in the +Kleinseite, but from Madame Zamenoy's abode, where he had again dined +previously in Lotta's presence. Madame Zamenoy herself had condescended +to enlighten his mind on the subject of Nina's peril, and had gone so +far as to invite him to hear a few words on the subject from a priest +on that side of the water. Souchey had only heard Nina's report of what +Father Jerome had said, but he was listening with his own ears while +the other priest declared his opinion that things would go very badly +with any Christian girl who might marry a Jew. This sufficed for him; +and then — having been so far enlightened by Madame Zamenoy herself — he +accepted a little commission, which took him to the Jew's house. Lotta +had had much difficulty in arranging this; for Souchey was not open +to a bribe in the matter, and on that account was able to press his +legitimate suit very closely. Before he would start on his errand to +the Jew, Lotta was almost obliged to promise that she would yield. + +<p>It was late in the afternoon when he got to Trendellsohn's house. He +had never been there before, though he well knew the exact spot on +which it stood, and had often looked up at the windows, regarding the +place with unpleasant suspicions; for he knew that Trendellsohn was +now the owner of the property that had once been his master's, and, of +course, as a good Christian, he believed that the Jew had obtained +Balatka's money by robbery and fraud. He hesitated a moment before he +presented himself at the door, having some fear at his heart. He knew +that he was doing right, but these Jews in their own quarter were +uncanny, and might be dangerous! To Anton Trendellsohn, over in the +Kleinseite, Souchey could be independent, and perhaps on occasions a +little insolent; but of Anton Trendellsohn in his own domains he almost +acknowledged to himself that he was afraid. Lotta had told him that, if +Anton were not at home, his commission could be done as well with the +old man; and as he at last made his way round the synagogue to the +house door, he determined that he would ask for the elder Jew. That +which he had to say, he thought, might be said easier to the father +than to the son. + +<p>The door of the house stood open, and Souchey, who, in his confusion, +missed the bell, entered the passage. The little oil-lamp still hung +there, giving a mysterious glimmer of light, which he did not at all +enjoy. He walked on very slowly, trying to get courage to call, when, +of a sudden, he perceived that there was a figure of a man standing +close to him in the gloom. He gave a little start, barely suppressing a +scream, and then perceived that the man was Anton Trendellsohn himself. +Anton, hearing steps in the passage, had come out from the room on the +ground-floor, and had seen Souchey before Souchey had seen him. + +<p>"You have come from Josef Balatka's," said the Jew. "How is the old +man?" + +<p>Souchey took off his cap and bowed, and muttered something as to his +having come upon an errand. "And my master is something better to-day," +he said, "thanks be to God for all His mercies!" + +<p>"Amen," said the Jew. + +<p>"But it will only last a day or two; no more than that," said Souchey. +"He has had the doctor and the priest, and they both say that it is all +over with him for this world." + +<p>"And Nina — you have brought some message probably from her?" + +<p>"No — no indeed; that is, not exactly; not to-day, Herr Trendellsohn. +The truth is, I had wished to speak a word or two to you about the +maiden; but perhaps you are engaged — perhaps another time would be +better." + +<p>"I am not engaged, and no other time could be better." + +<p>They were still out in the passage, and Souchey hesitated. That which +he had to say it would behove him to whisper into the closest privacy +of the Jew's ear — into the ear of the old Jew or of the young. "It is +something very particular," said Souchey. + +<p>"Very particular — is it?" said the Jew. + +<p>"Very particular indeed." said Souchey. Then Anton Trendellsohn led +the way back into the dark room on the ground-floor from whence he had +come, and invited Souchey to follow him. The shutters were up, and the +place was seldom used. There was a counter running through it, and a +cross-counter, such as are very common when seen by the light of day +in shops; but the place seemed to be mysterious to Souchey; and always +afterwards, when he thought of this interview, he remembered that his +tale had been told in the gloom of a chamber that had never been +arranged for honest Christian purposes. + +<p>"And now, what is it you have to tell me?" said the Jew. + +<p>After some fashion Souchey told his tale, and the Jew listened to him +without a word of interruption. More than once Souchey had paused, +hoping that the Jew would say something; but not a sound had fallen +from Trendellsohn till Souchey's tale was done. + +<p>"And it is so — is it?" said the Jew when Souchey ceased to speak. There +was nothing in his voice which seemed to indicate either sorrow or joy, +or even surprise. + +<p>"Yes, it is so," said Souchey. + +<p>"And how much am I to pay you for the information?" the Jew asked. + +<p>"You are to pay me nothing," said Souchey. + +<p>"What! you betray your mistress gratis?" + +<p>"I do not betray her," said Souchey. "I love her and the old man too. I +have been with them through fair weather and through foul. I have not +betrayed her." + +<p>"Then why have you come to me with this story?" + +<p>The whole truth was almost on Souchey's tongue. He had almost said that +his sole object was to save his mistress from the disgrace of marrying +a Jew. But he checked himself, then paused a moment, and then left the +room and the house abruptly. He had done his commission, and the fewer +words which he might have with the Jew after that the better. + +<p>On the following morning Nina was seated by her father's bedside, when +her quick ear caught through the open door the sound of a footstep in +the hall below. She looked for a moment at the old man, and saw that if +not sleeping he appeared to sleep. She leaned over him for a moment, +gave one gentle touch with her hand to the bed-clothes, then crept out +into the parlour, and closed behind her the door of the bed-room. When +in the middle of the outer chamber she listened again, and there was +clearly a step on the stairs. She listened again, and she knew that the +step was the step of her lover. He had come to her at last, then. Now, +at this moment, she lost all remembrance of her need of forgiving him. +Forgiving him! What could there be to be forgiven to one who could make +her so happy as she felt herself to be at this moment? She opened the +door of the room just as he had raised his hand to knock, and threw +herself into his arms. "Anton, dearest, you have come at last. But I +am not going to scold. I am so glad that you have come, my own one!" + +<p>While she was yet speaking, he brought her back into the room, +supporting her with his arm round her waist; and when the door was +closed he stood over her still holding her up, and looking down into +her face, which was turned up to his. "Why do you not speak to me, +Anton?" she said. But she smiled as she spoke, and there was nothing +of fear in the tone of her voice, for his look was kind, and there was +love in his eyes. + +<p>He stooped down over her, and fastened his lips upon her forehead. She +pressed herself closer against his shoulder, and shutting her eyes, as +she gave herself up to the rapture of his embrace, told herself that +now all should be well with them. + +<p>"Dear Nina," he said. + +<p>"Dearest, dearest Anton," she replied. + +<p>And then he asked after her father; and the two sat together for a +while, with their knees almost touching, talking in whispers as to the +condition of the old man. And they were still so sitting, and still so +talking, when Nina rose from her chair, and put up her forefinger with +a slight motion for silence, and a pretty look of mutual interest — as +though Anton were already one of the same family; and, touching his +hair lightly with her hand as she passed him, that he might feel how +delighted she was to be able so to touch him, she went back to the door +of the bedroom on tiptoe, and, lifting the latch without a sound, put +in her head and listened. But the sick man had not stirred. His face +was still turned from her, as though he slept, and then, again closing +the door, she came back to her lover. + +<p>"He is quite quiet," she said, whispering. + +<p>"Does he suffer?" + +<p>"I think not; he never complains. When he is awake he will sit with my +hand within his own, and now and again there is a little pressure." + +<p>"And he says nothing?" + +<p>"Very little; hardly a word now and then. When he does speak, it is of +his food." + +<p>"He can eat, then?" + +<p>"A morsel of jelly, or a little soup. But, Anton, I must tell you — I +tell you everything, you know — where do you think the things that he +takes have come from? But perhaps you know." + +<p>"Indeed I do not." + +<p>"They were sent to me by Rebecca Loth." + +<p>"By Rebecca!" + +<p>"Yes; by your friend Rebecca. She must be a good girl." + +<p>"She is a good girl, Nina." + +<p>"And you shall know everything; see — she sent me these," and Nina +showed her shoes; "and the very stockings I have on; I am not ashamed +that you should know." + +<p>"Your want, then, has been so great as that?" + +<p>"Father has been very poor. How should he not be poor when nothing is +earned? And she came here, and she saw it." + +<p>"She sent you these things?" + +<p>"Yes, Ruth came with them; there was a great basket with nourishing +food for father. It was very kind of her. But, Anton, Rebecca says that +I ought not to marry you, because of our religion. She says all the +Jews in Prague will become your enemies." + +<p>"We will not stay in Prague; we will go elsewhere. There are other +cities besides Prague." + +<p>"Where nobody will know us?" + +<p>"Where we will not be ashamed to be known." + +<p>"I told Rebecca that I would give you back all your promises, if you +wished me to do so." + +<p>"I do not wish it. I will not give you back your promises, Nina." + +<p>The enraptured girl again clung to him. "My own one," she said, "my +darling, my husband; when you speak to me like that, there is no girl +in Bohemia so happy as I am. Hush! I thought it was father. But no; +there is no sound. I do not mind what anyone says to me, as long as you +are kind." + +<p>She was now sitting on his knee, and his arm was round her waist, and +she was resting her head against his brow; he had asked for no pardon, +but all the past was entirely forgiven; why should she even think of it +again? Some such thought was passing through her mind, when he spoke a +word, and it seemed as though a dagger had gone into her heart. "About +that paper, Nina?" Accursed document, that it should be brought again +between them to dash the cup of joy from her lips at such a moment as +this! She disengaged herself from his embrace, almost with a leap. +"Well! what about the paper?" she said. + +<p>"Simply this, that I would wish to know where it is." + +<p>"And you think I have it?" + +<p>"No; I do not think so; I am perplexed about it, hardly knowing what to +believe; but I do not think you have it; I think that you know nothing +of it." + +<p>"Then why do you mention it again, reminding me of the cruel words +which you spoke before?" + +<p>"Because it is necessary for both our sakes. I will tell you plainly +just what I have heard: your servant Souchey has been with me, and he +says that you have it." + +<p>"Souchey!" + +<p>"Yes; Souchey. It seemed strange enough to me, for I had always thought +him to be your friend." + +<p>"Souchey has told you that I have got it?" + +<p>"He says that it is in that desk," and the Jew pointed to the old +depository of all the treasures which Nina possessed. + +<p>"He is a liar." + +<p>"I think he is so, though I cannot tell why he should have so lied; but +I think he is a liar; I do not believe that it is there; but in such a +matter it is well that the fact should be put beyond all dispute. You +will not object to my looking into the desk?" He had come there with a +fixed resolve that he would demand to search among her papers. It was +very unpleasant to him, and he knew that his doing so would be painful +to her; but he told himself that it would be best for them both that he +should persevere. + +<p>"Will you open it, or shall I?" he said; and as he spoke, she looked +into his face, and saw that all tenderness and love were banished from +it, and that the hard suspicious greed of the Jew was there instead. + +<p>"I will not unlock it," she said; "there is the key, and you can do as +you please." Then she flung the key upon the table, and stood with her +back up against the wall, at some ten paces distant from the spot where +the desk stood. He took up the key, and placed it remorselessly in the +lock, and opened the desk, and brought all the papers forth on to the +table which stood in the middle of the room. + +<p>"Are all my letters to be read?" she asked. + +<p>"Nothing is to be read," he said. + +<p>"Not that I should mind it; or at least I should have cared but little +ten minutes since. There are words there may make you think I have been +a fool, but a fool only too faithful to you." + +<p>He made no answer to this, but moved the papers one by one carefully +till he came to a folded document larger than the others. Why dwell +upon it? Of course it was the deed for which he was searching. Nina, +when from her station by the wall she saw that there was something in +her lover's hands of which she had no knowledge — something which had +been in her own desk without her privity — came forward a step or two, +looking with all her eyes. But she did not speak till he had spoken; +nor did he speak at once. He slowly unfolded the document, and perused +the heading of it; then he refolded it, and placed it on the table, and +stood there with his hand upon it. + +<p>"This," said he, "is the paper for which I am looking. Souchey, at any +rate, is not a liar. + +<p>"How came it there?" said Nina, almost screaming in her agony. + +<p>"That I know not; but Souchey is not a liar; nor were your aunt and her +servant liars in telling me that I should find it in your hands." + +<p>"Anton," she said, "as the Lord made me, I knew not of it;" and she +fell on her knees before his feet. + +<p>He looked down upon her, scanning every feature of her face and every +gesture of her body with hard inquiring eyes. He did not stoop to raise +her, nor, at the moment, did he say a word to comfort her. "And you +think that I stole it and put it there?" she said. She did not quail +before his eyes, but seemed, though kneeling before him, to look up +at him as though she would defy him. When first she had sunk upon the +ground, she had been weak, and wanted pardon though she was ignorant +of all offence; but his hardness, as he stood with his eyes fixed upon +her, had hardened her, and all her intellect, though not her heart, +was in revolt against him. "You think that I have robbed you?" + +<p>"I do not know what to think," he said. + +<p>Then she rose slowly to her feet, and, collecting the papers which he +had strewed upon the table, put them back slowly into the desk, and +locked it. + +<p>"You have done with this now," she said, holding the key in her hand. + +<p>"Yes; I do not want the key again." + +<p>"And you have done with me also?" + +<p>He paused a moment or two to collect his thoughts, and then he answered +her. "Nina, I would wish to think about this before I speak of it more +fully. What step I may next take I cannot say without considering it +much. I would not wish to pain you if I could help it." + +<p>"Tell me at once what it is that you believe of me?" + +<p>"I cannot tell you at once. Rebecca Loth is friendly to you, and I will +send her to you to-morrow." + +<p>"I will not see Rebecca Loth," said Nina. "Hush! there is father's +voice. Anton, I have nothing more to say to you — nothing — nothing." +Then she left him, and went into her father's room. + +<p>For some minutes she was busy by her father's bed, and went about her +work with a determined alacrity, as though she would wipe out of her +mind altogether, for the moment, any thought about her love and the Jew +and the document that had been found in her desk; and for a while she +was successful, with a consciousness, indeed, that she was under the +pressure of a terrible calamity which must destroy her, but still with +an outward presence of mind that supported her in her work. And her +father spoke to her, saying more to her than he had done for days past, +thanking her for her care, patting her hand with his, caressing her, +and bidding her still be of good cheer, as God would certainly be good +to one who had been so excellent a daughter. "But I wish, Nina, he were +not a Jew," he said suddenly. + +<p>"Dear father, we will not talk of that now." + +<p>"And he is a stern man, Nina." + +<p>But on this subject she would speak no further, and therefore she left +the bedside for a moment, and offered him a cup, from which he drank. +When he had tasted it he forgot the matter that had been in his mind, +and said no further word as to Nina's engagement. + +<p>As soon as she had taken the cup from her father's hand, she returned +to the parlour. It might be that Anton was still there. She had left +him in the room, and had shut her ears against the sound of his steps, +as though she were resolved that she would care nothing ever again for +his coming or going. He was gone, however, and the room was empty, and +she sat down in solitude, with her back against the wall, and began to +realise her position. He had told her that others accused her, but that +he had not suspected her. He had not suspected her, but he had thought +it necessary to search, and had found in her possession that which had +made her guilty in his eyes! + +<p>She would never see him again — never willingly. It was not only that he +would never forgive her, but that she could never now be brought to +forgive him. He had stabbed her while her words of love were warmest in +his ear. His foul suspicions had been present to his mind even while +she was caressing him. He had never known what it was to give himself +up really to his love for one moment. While she was seated on his knee, +with her head pressed against his, his intellect had been busy with the +key and the desk, as though he were a policeman looking for a thief, +rather than a lover happy in the endearments of his mistress. Her vivid +mind pictured all this to her, filling her full with every incident of +the insult she had endured. No. There must be an end of it now. If she +could see her aunt that moment, or Lotta, or even Ziska, she would tell +them that it should be so. She would say nothing to Anton — no, not a +word again, though both might live for an eternity; but she would write +a line to Rebecca Loth, and tell the Jewess that the Jew was now free +to marry whom he would among his own people. And some of the words that +she thought would be fitting for such a letter occurred to her as she +sat there. "I know now that a Jew and a Christian ought not to love +each other as we loved. Their hearts are different." That was her +present purpose, but, as will be seen, she changed it afterwards. + +<p>But ever and again as she strengthened her resolution, her thoughts +would run from her, carrying her back to the sweet rapture of some +moment in which the man had been gracious to her; and even while she +was struggling to teach herself to hate him, she would lean her head on +one side, as though by doing so she might once more touch his brow with +hers; and unconsciously she would put out her fingers, as though they +might find their way into his hand. And then she would draw them back +with a shudder, as though recoiling from the touch of an adder. + +<p>Hours had passed over her before she began to think whence had come the +paper which Trendellsohn had found in her desk; and then, when the idea +of some fraud presented itself to her, that part of the subject did +not seem to her to be of great moment. It mattered but little who had +betrayed her. It might be Rebecca, or Souchey, or Ruth, or Lotta, or +all of them together. His love, his knowledge of her whom he loved, +should have carried him aloft out of the reach of any such poor trick +as that! What mattered it now who had stolen her key, and gone like +a thief to her desk, and laid this plot for her destruction? That he +should have been capable of being deceived by such a plot against her +was enough for her. She did not even speak to Souchey on the subject. +In the course of the afternoon he came across her as she moved about +the house, looking ashamed, not daring to meet her eyes, hardly able +to mutter a word to her. But she said not a syllable to him about her +desk. She could not bring herself to plead the cause between her and +her lover before her father's servant. + +<p>The greater part of the day she passed by her father's bedside, but +whenever she could escape from the room, she seated herself in the +chair against the wall, endeavouring to make up her mind as to the +future. But there was much more of passion than of thought within her +breast. Never, never, never would she forgive him! Never again would +she sit on his knee caressing him. Never again would she even speak to +him. Nothing would she take from his hand, or from the hands of his +friends! Nor would she ever stoop to take aught from her aunt, or +from Ziska. They had triumphed over her. She knew not how. They had +triumphed over her, but the triumph should be very bitter to them — +very bitter, if there was any touch of humanity left among them. + +<p>Later in the day there came to be something of motion in the house. Her +father was worse in health, was going fast, and the doctor was again +there. And in these moments Souchey was with her, busy in the dying +man's room; and there were gentle kind words spoken between him and +Nina — as would be natural between such persons at such a time. He knew +that he had been a traitor, and the thought of his treachery was heavy +at his heart; but he perceived that no immediate punishment was to come +upon him, and it was some solace to him that he could be sedulous and +gentle and tender. And Nina, though she knew that the man had given his +aid in destroying her, bore with him not only without a hard word, but +almost without a severe thought. What did it matter what such a one as +Souchey could do? + +<p>In the middle watches of that night the old man died, and Nina was +alone in the world. Souchey, indeed, was with her in the house, and +took from her all painful charge of the bed at which now her care could +no longer be of use. And early in the morning, while it was yet dark, +Lotta came down, and spoke words to her, of which she remembered +nothing. And then she knew that her aunt Sophie was there, and that +some offers were made to her at which she only shook her head. "Of +course you will come up to us," aunt Sophie said. And she made many +more suggestions, in answer to all of which Nina only shook her head. +Then her aunt and Nina, with Lotta's aid, fixed upon some plan — Nina +hardly knew what — as to the morrow. She did not care to know what it +was that they fixed. They were going to leave her alone for this day, +and the day would be very long. She told herself that it would be long +enough for her. + +<p>The day was very long. When her aunt had left her she saw no one but +Souchey and an old woman who was busy in the bedroom which was now +closed. She had stood at the foot of the bed with her aunt, but after +that she did not return to the chamber. It was not only her father who, +for her, was now lying dead. She had loved her father well, but with a +love infinitely greater she had loved another; and that other one was +now dead to her also. What was there left to her in the world? The +charity of her aunt, and Lotta's triumph, and Ziska's love? No indeed! +She would bear neither the charity, nor the triumph, nor the love. One +other visitor came to the house that day. It was Rebecca Loth. But Nina +refused to see Rebecca. "Tell her," she said to Souchey, "that I cannot +see a stranger while my father is lying dead." How often did the idea +occur to her, throughout the terrible length of that day, that "he" +might come to her? But he came not. "So much the better," she said to +herself. "Were he to come, I would not see him." + +<p>Late in the evening, when the little lamp in the room had been already +burning for some hour or two, she called Souchey to her. "Take this +note," she said, "to Anton Trendellsohn." + +<p>"What! to-night?" said Souchey, trembling. + +<p>"Yes, to-night. It is right that he should know that the house is now +his own, to do what he will with it." + +<p>Then Souchey took the note, which was as follows: + +<br> +<br> + <table> + <tr><td width="7%"></td><td align="left"> + <i> + My father is dead, and the house will be empty to-morrow. You may come + and take your property without fear that you will be troubled by + </i> + </td> + <tr><td></td><td align="right"><i>NINA BALATKA.</i></td> + </table> +<br> +<br> +<a name="chapt15"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XV</h3> +</center> + +<p>When Souchey left the room with the note, Nina went to the door and +listened. She heard him turn the lock below, and heard his step out +in the courtyard, and listened till she knew that he was crossing the +square. Then she ran quickly up to her own room, put on her hat and her +old worn cloak — the cloak which aunt Sophie had given her — and returned +once more into the parlour. She looked round the room with anxious +eyes, and seeing her desk, she took the key from her pocket and put +it into the lock. Then there came a thought into her mind as to the +papers; but she resolved that the thought need not arrest her, and +she left the key in the lock with the papers untouched. Then she went +to the door of her father's room, and stood there for a moment with her +hand upon the latch. She tried it ever so gently, but she found that +the door was bolted. The bolt, she knew, was on her side, and she could +withdraw it; but she did not do so; seeming to take the impediment as +though it were a sufficient bar against her entrance. Then she ran down +the stairs rapidly, opened the front door, and found herself out in the +night air. + +<p>It was a cold windy night — not so late, indeed, as to have made her +feel that it was night, had she not come from the gloom of the dark +parlour, and the glimmer of her one small lamp. It was now something +beyond the middle of October, and at present it might be eight o'clock. +She knew that there would be moonlight, and she looked up at the sky; +but the clouds were all dark, though she could see that they were +moving along with the gusts of wind. It was very cold, and she drew her +cloak closer about her as she stepped out into the archway. + +<p>Up above her, almost close to her in the gloom of the night, there was +the long colonnade of the palace, with the lights glimmering in the +windows as they always glimmered. She allowed herself for a moment to +think who might be there in those rooms — as she had so often thought +before. It was possible that Anton might be there. He had been there +once before at this time in the evening, as he himself had told her. +Wherever he might be, was he thinking of her? But if he thought of her, +he was thinking of her as one who had deceived him, who had tried to +rob him. Ah! the day would soon come in which he would learn that he +had wronged her. When that day should come, would his heart be bitter +within him? "He will certainly be unhappy for a time," she said; "but +he is hard and will recover, and she will console him. It will be +better so. A Christian and a Jew should never love each other." + +<p>As she stood the clouds were lifted for a moment from the face of the +risen moon, and she could see by the pale clear light the whole facade +of the palace as it ran along the steep hillside above her. She could +count the arches, as she had so often counted them by the same light. +They seemed to be close over her head, and she stood there thinking of +them, till the clouds had again skurried across the moon's face, and +she could only see the accustomed glimmer in the windows. As her eye +fell upon the well-known black buildings around her, she found that it +was very dark. It was well for her that it should be so dark. She never +wanted to see the light again. + +<p>There was a footstep on the other side of the square, and she paused +till it had passed away beyond the reach of her ears. Then she came out +from under the archway, and hurried across the square to the street +which led to the bridge. It was a dark gloomy lane, narrow, and +composed of high buildings without entrances, the sides of barracks and +old palaces. From the windows above her head on the left, she heard +the voices of soldiers. A song was being sung, and she could hear the +words. How cruel it was that other people should have so much of +light-hearted joy in the world, but that for her everything should have +been so terribly sad! The wind, as it met her, seemed to penetrate to her +bones. She was very cold! But it was useless to regard that. There was +no place on the face of the earth that would ever be warm for her. + +<p>As she passed along the causeway leading to the bridge, a sound with +which she was very familiar met her ears. They were singing vespers +under the shadow of one of the great statues which are placed one over +each arch of the bridge. There was a lay friar standing by a little +table, on which there was a white cloth and a lighted lamp and a small +crucifix; and above the crucifix, supported against the stone-work of +the bridge, there was a picture of the Virgin with her Child, and there +was a tawdry wreath of paper flowers, so that by the light of the lamp +you could see that a little altar had been prepared. And on the table +there was a plate containing kreutzers, into which the faithful who +passed and took a part in the evening psalm of praise, might put an +offering for the honour of the Virgin, and for the benefit of the poor +friar and his brethren in their poor cloisters at home. Nina knew all +about it well. Scores of times had she stood on the same spot upon the +bridge, and sung the vesper hymn, ere she passed on to the Kleinseite. + +<p>And now she paused and sang it once again. Around the table upon the +pavement there stood perhaps thirty or forty persons, most of them +children, and the remainder girls perhaps of Nina's age. And the friar +stood close by the table, leaning idly against the bridge, with his eye +wandering from the little plate with the kreutzers to the passers-by +who might possibly contribute. And ever and anon he with drawling +voice would commence some sentence of the hymn, and then the girls and +children would take it up, well knowing the accustomed words; and their +voices as they sang would sound sweetly across the waters, the loud +gurgling of which, as they ran beneath the arch, would be heard during +the pauses. + +<p>And Nina stopped and sang. When she was a child she had sung there very +often, and the friar of those days would put his hand upon her head and +bless her, as she brought her small piece of tribute to his plate. Of +late, since she had been at variance with the Church by reason of the +Jew, she had always passed by rapidly, as though feeling that she had +no longer any right to take a part in such a ceremony. But now she had +done with the Jew, and surely she might sing the vesper song. So she +stopped and sang, remembering not the less as she sang, that that which +she was about to do, if really done, would make all such singing +unavailing for her. + +<p>But then, perhaps, even yet it might not be done. Lotta's first +prediction, that the Jew would desert her, had certainly come true; +and Lotta's second prediction, that there would be nothing left for +her but to drown herself, seemed to her to be true also. She had left +the house in which her father's dead body was still lying, with this +purpose. Doubly deserted as she now was by lover and father, she could +live no longer. It might, however, be possible that that saint who was +so powerful over the waters might yet do something for her — might yet +interpose on her behalf, knowing, as he did, of course, that all idea +of marriage between her, a Christian, and her Jew lover had been +abandoned. At any rate she stood and sang the hymn, and when there +came the accustomed lull at the end of the verse, she felt in her +pocket for a coin, and, taking a piece of ten kreutzers, she stepped +quickly up to the plate and put it in. A day or two ago ten kreutzers +was an important portion of the little sum which she still had left in +hand, but now ten kreutzers could do nothing for her. It was at any +rate better that the friar should have it than that her money should +go with her down into the blackness of the river. Nevertheless she did +not give the friar all. She saw one girl whispering to another as she +stepped up to the table, and she heard her own name. "That is Nina +Balatka." And then there was an answer which she did not hear, but +which she was sure referred to the Jew. The girls looked at her with +angry eyes, and she longed to stop and explain to them that she was no +longer betrothed to the Jew. Then, perhaps, they would be gentle with +her, and she might yet hear a kind word spoken to her before she went. +But she did not speak to them. No; she would never speak to man or +woman again. What was the use of speaking now? No sympathy that she +could receive would go deep enough to give relief to such wounds as +hers. + +<p>As she dropped her piece of money into the plate her eyes met those of +the friar, and she recognised at once a man whom she had known years +ago, at the same spot and engaged in the same work. He was old and +haggard, and thin, and grey, and very dirty; but there came a smile +over his face as he also recognised her. He could not speak to her, for +he had to take up a verse in the hymn, and drawl out the words which +were to set the crowd singing, and Nina had retired back again before +he was silent. But she knew that he had known her, and she almost felt +that she had found a friend who would be kind to her. On the morrow, +when inquiry would be made — and aunt Sophie would certainly be loud +in her inquiries — this friar would be able to give some testimony +respecting her. + +<p>She passed on altogether across the bridge, in order that she might +reach the spot she desired without observation — and perhaps also with +some halting idea that she might thus postpone the evil moment. The +figure of St John Nepomucene rested on the other balustrade of the +bridge, and she was minded to stand for a while under its shadow. Now, +at Prague it is the custom that they who pass over the bridge shall +always take the right-hand path as they go; and she, therefore, in +coming from the Kleinseite, had taken that opposite to the statue of +the saint. She had thought of this, and had told herself that she would +cross the roadway in the middle of the bridge; but at that moment the +moon was shining brightly: and then, too, the night was long. Why need +she be in a hurry? + +<p>At the further end of the bridge she stood a while in the shade of the +watch-tower, and looked anxiously around her. When last she had been +over in the Old Town, within a short distance of the spot where she now +stood, she had chanced to meet her lover. What if she should see him +now? She was sure that she would not speak to him. And yet she looked +very anxiously up the dark street, through the glimmer of the dull +lamps. First there came one man, and then another, and a third; and +she thought, as her eyes fell upon them, that the figure of each was +the figure of Anton Trendellsohn. But as they emerged from the darker +shadow into the light that was near, she saw that it was not so, and +she told herself that she was glad. If Anton were to come and find +her there, it might be that he would disturb her purpose. But yet she +looked again before she left the shadow of the tower. Now there was no +one passing in the street. There was no figure there to make her think +that her lover was coming either to save her or to disturb her. + +<p>Taking the pathway on the other side, she turned her face again towards +the Kleinseite, and very slowly crept along under the balustrade of +the bridge. This bridge over the Moldau is remarkable in many ways, +but it is specially remarkable for the largeness of its proportions. It +is very long, taking its spring from the shore a long way before the +actual margin of the river; it is of a fine breadth: the side-walks to +it are high and massive; and the groups of statues with which it is +ornamented, though not in themselves of much value as works of art, +have a dignity by means of their immense size which they lend to the +causeway, making the whole thing noble, grand, and impressive. And +below, the Moldau runs with a fine, silent, dark volume of water — a +very sea of waters when the rains have fallen and the little rivers +have been full, though in times of drought great patches of ugly dry +land are to be seen in its half-empty bed. At the present moment there +were no such patches; and the waters ran by, silent, black, in great +volumes, and with unchecked rapid course. It was only by pausing +specially to listen to them that the passer-by could hear them as they +glided smoothly round the piers of the bridge. Nina did pause and did +hear them. They would have been almost less terrible to her, had the +sound been rougher and louder. + +<p>On she went, very slowly. The moon, she thought, had disappeared +altogether before she reached the cross inlaid in the stone on the +bridge-side, on which she was accustomed to lay her fingers, in order +that she might share somewhat of the saint's power over the river. At +that moment, as she came up to it, the night was very dark. She had +calculated that by this time the light of the moon would have waned, +so that she might climb to the spot which she had marked for herself +without observation. She paused, hesitating whether she would put her +hand upon the cross. It could not at least do her any harm. It might +be that the saint would be angry with her, accusing her of hypocrisy; +but what would be the saint's anger for so small a thing amidst the +multitudes of charges that would be brought against her? For that which +she was going to do now there could be no absolution given. And perhaps +the saint might perceive that the deed on her part was not altogether +hypocritical — that there was something in it of a true prayer. He +might see this, and intervene to save her from the waters. So she put +the palm of her little hand full upon the cross, and then kissed it +heartily, and after that raised it up again till it rested on the foot +of the saint. As she stood there she heard the departing voices of the +girls and children singing the last verse of the vesper hymn, as they +followed the friar off the causeway of the bridge into the Kleinseite. + +<p>She was determined that she would persevere. She had endured that which +made it impossible that she should recede, and had sworn to herself a +thousand times that she would never endure that which would have to be +endured if she remained longer in this cruel world. There would be no +roof to cover her now but the roof in the Windberg-gasse, beneath which +there was to her a hell upon earth. No; she would face the anger of +all the saints rather than eat the bitter bread which her aunt would +provide for her. And she would face the anger of all the saints rather +than fall short in her revenge upon her lover. She had given herself to +him altogether — for him she had been half-starved, when, but for him, +she might have lived as a favoured daughter in her aunt's house — for +him she had made it impossible to herself to regard any other man with +a spark of affection — for his sake she had hated her cousin Ziska — +her cousin who was handsome, and young, and rich, and had loved her — +feeling that the very idea that she could accept love from anyone but +Anton had been an insult to her. She had trusted Anton as though his +word had been gospel to her. She had obeyed him in everything, allowing +him to scold her as though she were already subject to his rule; and, +to speak the truth, she had enjoyed such treatment, obtaining from it +a certain assurance that she was already his own. She had loved him +entirely, had trusted him altogether, had been prepared to bear all +that the world could fling upon her for his sake, wanting nothing in +return but that he should know that she was true to him. + +<p>This he had not known, nor had he been able to understand such truth. +It had not been possible to him to know it. The inborn suspicion of +his nature had broken out in opposition to his love, forcing her to +acknowledge to herself that she had been wrong in loving a Jew. He had +been unable not to suspect her of some vile scheme by which she might +possibly cheat him of his property, if at the last moment she should +not become his wife. She told herself that she understood it all now — +that she could see into his mind, dark and gloomy as were its recesses. +She had wasted all her heart upon a man who had never even believed +in her; and would she not be revenged upon him? Yes, she would be +revenged, and she would cure the malady of her own love by the only +possible remedy within her reach. + +<p>The statue of St John Nepomucene is a single figure, standing in +melancholy weeping posture on the balustrade of the bridge, without +any of that ponderous strength of wide-spread stone which belongs to +the other groups. This St John is always pictured to us as a thin, +melancholy, half-starved saint, who has had all the life washed out +of him by his long immersion. There are saints to whom a trusting +religious heart can turn, relying on their apparent physical +capabilities. St Mark, for instance, is always a tower of strength, +and St Christopher is very stout, and St Peter carries with him an +ancient manliness which makes one marvel at his cowardice when he +denied his Master. St Lawrence, too, with his gridiron, and St +Bartholomew with his flaying-knife and his own skin hanging over his +own arm, look as though they liked their martyrdom, and were proud of +it, and could be useful on an occasion. But this St John of the Bridges +has no pride in his appearance, and no strength in his look. He is a +mild, meek saint, teaching one rather by his attitude how to bear with +the malice of the waters, than offering any protection against their +violence. But now, at this moment, his aid was the only aid to which +Nina could look with any hope. She had heard of his rescuing many +persons from death amidst the current of the Moldau. Indeed she thought +that she could remember having been told that the river had no power to +drown those who could turn their minds to him when they were struggling +in the water. Whether this applied only to those who were in sight +of his statue on the bridge of Prague, or whether it was good in all +rivers of the world, she did not know. Then she tried to think whether +she had ever heard of any case in which the saint had saved one who +had — who had done the thing which she was now about to do. She was +almost sure that she had never heard of such a case as that. But, then, +was there not something special in her own case? Was not her suffering +so great, her condition so piteous, that the saint would be driven to +compassion in spite of the greatness of her sin? Would he not know that +she was punishing the Jew by the only punishment with which she could +reach him? She looked up into the saint's wan face, and fancied that +no eyes were ever so piteous, no brow ever so laden with the deep +suffering of compassion. But would this punishment reach the heart of +Anton Trendellsohn? Would he care for it? When he should hear that she +had — destroyed her own life because she could not endure the cruelty of +his suspicion, would the tidings make him unhappy? When last they had +been together he had told her, with all that energy which he knew so +well how to put into his words, that her love was necessary to his +happiness. "I will never release you from your promises," he had said, +when she offered to give him back his troth because of the ill-will of +his people. And she still believed him. Yes, he did love her. There was +something of consolation to her in the assurance that the strings of +his heart would be wrung when he should hear of this. If his bosom were +capable of agony, he would be agonised. + +<p>It was very dark at this moment, and now was the time for her to climb +upon the stone-work and hide herself behind the drapery of the saint's +statue. More than once, as she had crossed the bridge, she had observed +the spot, and had told herself that if such a deed were to be done, +that would be the place for doing it. She had always been conscious, +since the idea had entered her mind, that she would lack the power to +step boldly up on to the parapet and go over at once, as the bathers do +when they tumble headlong into the stream that has no dangers for them. +She had known that she must crouch, and pause, and think of it, and +look at it, and nerve herself with the memory of her wrongs. Then, +at some moment in which her heart was wrung to the utmost, she would +gradually slacken her hold, and the dark, black, silent river should +take her. She climbed up into the niche, and found that the river was +very far from her, though death was so near to her and the fall would +be so easy. When she became aware that there was nothing between her +and the great void space below her, nothing to guard her, nothing left +to her in all the world to protect her, she retreated, and descended +again to the pavement. And never in her life had she moved with more +care, lest, inadvertently, a foot or a hand might slip, and she might +tumble to her doom against her will. + +<p>When she was again on the pathway she remembered her note to Anton — +that note which was already in his hands. What would he think of her if +she were only to threaten the deed, and then not perform it? And would +she allow him to go unpunished? Should he triumph, as he would do if +she were now to return to the house which she had told him she had +left? She clasped her hands together tightly, and pressed them first +to her bosom and then to her brow, and then again she returned to the +niche from which the fall into the river must be made. Yes, it was very +easy. The plunge might be taken at any moment. Eternity was before her, +and of life there remained to her but the few moments in which she +might cling there and think of what was coming. Surely she need not +begrudge herself a minute or two more of life. + +<p>She was very cold, so cold that she pressed herself against the stone +in order that she might save herself from the wind that whistled round +her. But the water would be colder still than the wind, and when once +there she could never again be warm. The chill of the night, and the +blackness of the gulf before her, and the smooth rapid gurgle of the +dark moving mass of waters beneath, were together more horrid to her +imagination than even death itself. Thrice she released herself from +her backward pressure against the stone, in order that she might fall +forward and have done with it, but as often she found herself returning +involuntarily to the protection which still remained to her. It seemed +as though she could not fall. Though she would have thought that +another must have gone directly to destruction if placed where she was +crouching — though she would have trembled with agony to see anyone +perched in such danger — she appeared to be firm fixed. She must jump +forth boldly, or the river would not take her. Ah! what if it were so — +that the saint who stood over her, and whose cross she had so lately +kissed, would not let her perish from beneath his feet? In these +moments her mind wandered in a maze of religious doubts and fears, and +she entertained, unconsciously, enough of doctrinal scepticism to found +a school of freethinkers. Could it be that God would punish her with +everlasting torments because in her agony she was driven to this as her +only mode of relief? Would there be no measuring of her sins against +her sorrows, and no account taken of the simplicity of her life? She +looked up towards heaven, not praying in words, but with a prayer in +her heart. For her there could be no absolution, no final blessing. The +act of her going would be an act of terrible sin. But God would know +all, and would surely take some measure of her case. He could save her +if He would, despite every priest in Prague. More than one passenger +had walked by while she was crouching in her niche beneath the statue — +had passed by and had not seen her. Indeed, the night at present was so +dark, that one standing still and looking for her would hardly be able +to define her figure. And yet, dark as it was, she could see something +of the movement of the waters beneath her, some shimmer produced by the +gliding movement of the stream. Ah! she would go now and have done with +it. Every moment that she remained was but an added agony. + +<p>Then, at that moment, she heard a voice on the bridge near her, and she +crouched close again, in order that the passenger might pass by without +noticing her. She did not wish that anyone should hear the splash of +her plunge, or be called on to make ineffectual efforts to save her. So +she would wait again. The voice drew nearer to her, and suddenly she +became aware that it was Souchey's voice. It was Souchey, and he was +not alone. It must be Anton who had come out with him to seek her, +and to save her. But no. He should have no such relief as that from +his coming sorrow. So she clung fast, waiting till they should pass, +but still leaning a little towards the causeway, so that, if it were +possible, she might see the figures as they passed. She heard the voice +of Souchey quite plain, and then she perceived that Souchey's companion +was a woman. Something of the gentleness of a woman's voice reached her +ear, but she could distinguish no word that was spoken. The steps were +now very close to her, and with terrible anxiety she peeped out to see +who might be Souchey's companion. She saw the figure, and she knew at +once by the hat that it was Rebecca Loth. They were walking fast, and +were close to her now. They would be gone in an instant. + +<p>On a sudden, at the very moment that Souchey and Rebecca were in the +act of passing beneath the feet of the saint, the clouds swept by from +off the disc of the waning moon, and the three faces were looking at +each other in the clear pale light of the night. Souchey started back +and screamed. Rebecca leaped forward and put the grasp of her hand +tight upon the skirt of Nina's dress, first one hand and then the +other, and, pressing forward with her body against the parapet, she got +a hold also of Nina's foot. She perceived instantly what was the girl's +purpose, but, by God's blessing on her efforts, there should be no cold +form found in the river that night; or, if one, then there should be +two. Nina kept her hold against the figure, appalled, dumbfounded, +awe-stricken, but still with some inner consciousness of salvation that +comforted her. Whether her life was due to the saint or to the Jewess +she knew not, but she acknowledged to herself silently that death was +beyond her reach, and she was grateful. + +<p>"Nina," said Rebecca. Nina still crouched against the stone, with her +eyes fixed on the other girl's face; but she was unable to speak. The +clouds had again obscured the moon, and the air was again black, but +the two now could see each other in the darkness, or feel that they did +so. "Nina, Nina — why are you here?" + +<p>"I do not know," said Nina, shivering. + +<p>"For the love of God take care of her," said Souchey, "or she will be +over into the river." + +<p>"She cannot fall now," said Rebecca. "Nina, will you not come down to +me? You are very cold. Come down, and I will warm you." + +<p>"I am very cold," said Nina. Then gradually she slid down into +Rebecca's arms, and was placed sitting on a little step immediately +below the figure of St John. Rebecca knelt by her side, and Nina's head +fell upon the shoulder of the Jewess. Then she burst into the violence +of hysterics, but after a moment or two a flood of tears relieved her. + +<p>"Why have you come to me?" she said. "Why have you not left me alone?" + +<p>"Dear Nina, your sorrows have been too heavy for you to bear." + +<p>"Yes; they have been very heavy." + +<p>"We will comfort you, and they shall be softened." + +<p>"I do not want comfort. I only want to — to — to go." + +<p>While Rebecca was chafing Nina's hands and feet, and tying a +handkerchief from off her own shoulders round Nina's neck, Souchey +stood over them, not knowing what to propose. "Perhaps we had better +carry her back to the old house," he said. + +<p>"I will not be carried back," said Nina. + +<p>"No, dear; the house is desolate and cold. You shall not go there. You +shall come to our house, and we will do for you the best we can there, +and you shall be comfortable. There is no one there but mother, and she +is kind and gracious. She will understand that your father has died, +and that you are alone." + +<p>Nina, as she heard this, pressed her head and shoulders close against +Rebecca's body. As it was not to be allowed to her to escape from +all her troubles, as she had thought to do, she would prefer the +neighbourhood of the Jews to that of any Christians. There was no +Christian now who would say a kind word to her. Rebecca spoke to her +very kindly, and was soft and gentle with her. She could not go where +she would be alone. Even if left to do so, all physical power would +fail her. She knew that she was weak as a child is weak, and that +she must submit to be governed. She thought it would be better to be +governed by Rebecca Loth at the present moment than by anyone else whom +she knew. Rebecca had spoken of her mother, and Nina was conscious of +a faint wish that there had been no such person in her friend's house; +but this was a minor trouble, and one which she could afford to +disregard amidst all her sorrows. How much more terrible would have +been her fate had she been carried away to aunt Sophie's house! "Does +he know?" she said, whispering the question into Rebecca's ear. + +<p>"Yes, he knows. It was he who sent me." Why did he not come himself? +That question flashed across Nina's mind, and it was present also to +Rebecca. She knew that it was the question which Nina, within her +heart, would silently ask. "I was there when the note came," said +Rebecca, "and he thought that a woman could do more than a man. I +am so glad he sent me — so very glad. Shall we go, dear?" + +<p>Then Nina rose from her seat, and stood up, and began to move slowly. +Her limbs were stiff with cold, and at first she could hardly walk; but +she did not feel that she would be unable to make the journey. Souchey +came to her side, but she rejected his arm petulantly. "Do not let him +come," she said to Rebecca. "I will do whatever you tell me; I will +indeed." Then the Jewess said a word or two to the old man, and he +retreated from Nina's side, but stood looking at her till she was out +of sight. Then he returned home to the cold desolate house in the +Kleinseite, where his only companion was the lifeless body of his old +master. But Souchey, as he left his young mistress, made no complaint +of her treatment of him. He knew that he had betrayed her, and brought +her close upon the step of death's door. He could understand it all +now. Indeed he had understood it all since the first word that Anton +Trendellsohn had spoken after reading Nina's note. + +<p>"She will destroy herself," Anton had said. + +<p>"What! Nina, my mistress?" said Souchey. Then, while Anton had called +Rebecca to him, Souchey had seen it all. "Master," he said, when the +Jew returned to him, "it was Lotta Luxa who put the paper in the desk. +Nina knew nothing of its being there." Then the Jew's heart sank coldly +within him, and his conscience became hot within his bosom. He lost +nothing of his presence of mind, but simply hurried Rebecca upon her +errand. "I shall see you again to-night," he said to the girl. + +<p>"You must come then to our house," said Rebecca. "It may be that I +shall not be able to leave it." + +<p>Rebecca, as she led Nina back across the bridge, at first said nothing +further. She pressed the other girl's arm within her own, and there +was much of tenderness and regard in the pressure. She was silent, +thinking, perhaps, that any speech might be painful to her companion. +But Nina could not restrain herself from a question, "What will they +say of me?" + +<p>"No one, dear, shall say anything." + +<p>"But he knows." + +<p>"I know not what he knows, but his knowledge, whatever it be, is only +food for his love. You may be sure of his love, Nina — quite sure, quite +sure. You may take my word for that. If that has been your doubt, you +have doubted wrongly." + +<p>Not all the healing medicines of Mercury, not wine from the flasks of +the gods, could have given Nina life and strength as did those words +from her rival's lips. All her memory of his offences against her had +again gone in her thought of her own sin. Would he forgive her and +still love her? Yes; she was a weak woman — very weak; but she had that +one strength which is sufficient to atone for all feminine weakness — +she could really love; or rather, having loved, she could not cease +to love. Anger had no effect on her love, or was as water thrown on +blazing coal, which makes it burn more fiercely. Ill usage could not +crush her love. Reason, either from herself or others, was unavailing +against it. Religion had no power over it. Her love had become her +religion to Nina. It took the place of all things both in heaven and +earth. Mild as she was by nature, it made her a tigress to those who +opposed it. It was all the world to her. She had tried to die, because +her love had been wounded; and now she was ready to live again because +she was told that her lover — the lover who had used her so cruelly — +still loved her. She pressed Rebecca's arm close into her side. "I +shall be better soon," she said. Rebecca did not doubt that Nina would +soon be better, but of her own improvement she was by no means so +certain. + +<p>They walked on through the narrow crooked streets into the Jews' +quarter, and soon stood at the door of Rebecca's house. The latch was +loose, and they entered, and they found a lamp ready for them on the +stairs. "Had you not better come to my bed for to-night?" said Rebecca. + +<p>"Only that I should be in your way, I should be so glad." + +<p>"You shall not be in my way. Come, then. But first you must eat and +drink." Though Nina declared that she could not eat a morsel, and +wanted no drink but water, Rebecca tended upon her, bringing the food +and wine that were in truth so much needed. "And now, dear, I will help +you to bed. You are yet cold, and there you will be warm." + +<p>"But when shall I see him?" + +<p>"Nay, how can I tell? But, Nina, I will not keep him from you. He shall +come to you here when he chooses — if you choose it also." + +<p>"I do choose it — I do choose it," said Nina, sobbing in her weakness — +conscious of her weakness. + +<p>While Rebecca was yet assisting Nina — the Jewess kneeling as the +Christian sat on the bedside — there came a low rap at the door, and +Rebecca was summoned away. "I shall be but a moment," she said, and she +ran down to the front door. + +<p>"Is she here?" said Anton, hoarsely. + +<p>"Yes, she is here." + +<p>"The Lord be thanked! And can I not see her?" + +<p>"You cannot see her now, Anton. She is very weary, and all but in bed." + +<p>"To-morrow I may come?" + +<p>"Yes, to-morrow." + +<p>"And, tell me, how did you find her? Where did you find her?" + +<p>"To-morrow Anton, you shall be told — whatever there is to tell. For +to-night, is it not enough for you to know that she is with me? She will +share my bed, and I will be as a sister to her." + +<p>Then Anton spoke a word of warm blessing to his friend, and went his +way home. +<br> +<br> +<a name="chapt16"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XVI</h3> +</center> + +<p>Early in the following year, while the ground was yet bound with frost, +and the great plains of Bohemia were still covered with snow, a Jew and +his wife took their leave of Prague, and started for one of the great +cities of the west. They carried with them but little of the outward +signs of wealth, and but few of those appurtenances of comfort which +generally fall to the lot of brides among the rich; the man, however, +was well to do in the world, and was one who was not likely to bring +his wife to want. It need hardly be said that Anton Trendellsohn was +the man, and that Nina Balatka was his wife. + +<p>On the eve of their departure, Nina and her friend the Jewess had said +farewell to each other. "You will write to me from Frankfort?" said +Rebecca. + +<p>"Indeed I will," said Nina; "and you, you will write to me often, very +often?" + +<p>"As often as you will wish it." + +<p>"I shall wish it always," said Nina; "and you can write; you are clever. +You know how to make your words say what there is in your heart." + +<p>"But you have been able to make your face more eloquent than any +words." + +<p>"Rebecca, dear Rebecca! Why was it that he did not love such a one as +you rather than me? You are more beautiful." + +<p>"But he at least has not thought so." + +<p>"And you are so clever and so good; and you could have given him help +which I never can give him." + +<p>"He does not want help. He wants to have by his side a sweet soft +nature that can refresh him by its contrast to his own. He has done +right to love you, and to make you his wife; only, I could wish that +you were as we are in religion." To this Nina made no answer. She could +not promise that she would change her religion, but she thought that +she would endeavour to do so. She would do so if the saints would let +her. "I am glad you are going away, Nina," continued Rebecca. "It will +be better for him and better for you." + +<p>"Yes, it will be better." + +<p>"And it will be better for me also." Then Nina threw herself on +Rebecca's neck and wept. She could say nothing in words in answer to +that last assertion. If Rebecca really loved the man who was now the +husband of another, of course it would be better that they should be +apart. But Nina, who knew herself to be weak, could not understand that +Rebecca, who was so strong, should have loved as she had loved. + +<p>"If you have daughters," said Rebecca, "and if he will let you name one +of them after me, I shall be glad." Nina swore that if God gave her +such a treasure as a daughter, that child should be named after the +friend who had been so good to her. + +<p>There were also a few words of parting between Anton Trendellsohn and +the girl who had been brought up to believe that she was to be his +wife; but though there was friendship in them, there was not much of +tenderness. "I hope you will prosper where you are going," said +Rebecca, as she gave the man her hand. + +<p>"I do not fear but that I shall prosper, Rebecca." + +<p>"No; you will become rich, and perhaps great — as great, that is, as we +Jews can make ourselves." + +<p>"I hope you will live to hear that the Jews are not crushed elsewhere +as they are here in Prague." + +<p>"But, Anton, you will not cease to love the old city where your fathers +and friends have lived so long?" + +<p>"I will never cease to love those, at least, whom I leave behind me. +Farewell, Rebecca;" and he attempted to draw her to him as though +he would kiss her. But she withdrew from him, very quietly, with no +mark of anger, with no ostentation of refusal. "Farewell," she said. +"Perhaps we shall see each other after many years." + +<p>Trendellsohn, as he sat beside his young wife in the post-carriage +which took them out of the city, was silent till he had come nearly to +the outskirts of the town; and then he spoke. "Nina," he said, "I am +leaving behind me, and for ever, much that I love well." + +<p>"And it is for my sake," she said. "I feel it daily, hourly. It makes +me almost wish that you had not loved me." + +<p>"But I take with me that which I love infinitely better than all that +Prague contains. I will not, therefore, allow myself a regret. Though I +should never see the old city again, I will always look upon my going +as a good thing done." Nina could only answer him by caressing his +hand, and by making internal oaths that her very best should be done in +every moment of her life to make him contented with the lot he had +chosen. + +<p>There remains very little of the tale to be told — nothing, indeed, of +Nina's tale — and very little to be explained. Nina slept in peace at +Rebecca's house that night on which she had been rescued from death +upon the bridge — or, more probably, lay awake anxiously thinking what +might yet be her fate. She had been very near to death — so near that +she shuddered, even beneath the warmth of the bed-clothes, and with the +protection of her friend so close to her, as she thought of those long +dreadful minutes she had passed crouching over the river at the feet +of the statue. She had been very near to death, and for a while could +hardly realise the fact of her safety. She knew that she was glad +to have been saved; but what might come next was, at that moment, +all vague, uncertain, and utterly beyond her own control She hardly +ventured to hope more than that Anton Trendellsohn would not give her +up to Madame Zamenoy. If he did, she must seek the river again, or some +other mode of escape from that worst of fates. But Rebecca had assured +her of Anton's love, and in Rebecca's words she had a certain, though a +dreamy, faith. The night was long, but she wished it to be longer. To +be there and to feel that she was warm and safe was almost happiness +for her after the misery she had endured. + +<p>On the next day, and for a day or two afterwards, she was feverish and +she did not rise, but Rebecca's mother came to her, and Ruth — and at +last Anton himself. She never could quite remember how those few days +were passed, or what was said, or how it came to be arranged that she +was to stay for a while in Rebecca's house; that she was to stay there +for a long while — till such time as she should become a wife, and +leave it for a house of her own. She never afterwards had any clear +conception, though she very often thought of it all, how it came to be +a settled thing among the Jews around her, that she was to be Anton's +wife, and that Anton was to take her away from Prague. But she knew +that her lover's father had come to her, and that he had been kind, +and that there had been no reproach cast upon her for the wickedness +she had attempted. Nor was it till she found herself going to mass all +alone on the third Sunday that she remembered that she was still a +Christian, and that her lover was still a Jew. "It will not seem so +strange to you when you are away in another place," Rebecca said to her +afterwards. "It will be good for both of you that you should be away +from Prague." + +<p>Nor did Nina hear much of the attempts which the Zamenoys made to +rescue her from the hands of the Jews. Anton once asked her very +gravely whether she was quite certain that she did not wish to see +her aunt. "Indeed, I am," said Nina, becoming pale at the idea of +the suggested meeting. "Why should I see her? She has always been +cruel to me." Then Anton explained to her that Madame Zamenoy had made +a formal demand to see her niece, and had even lodged with the police a +statement that Nina was being kept in durance in the Jews' quarter; but +the accusation was too manifestly false to receive attention even when +made against a Jew, and Nina had reached an age which allowed her to +choose her own friends without interposition from the law. "Only," said +Anton, "it is necessary that you should know your own mind." + +<p>"I do know it," said Nina, eagerly. + +<p>And she saw Madame Zamenoy no more, nor her uncle Karil, nor her cousin +Ziska. Though she lived in the same city with them for three months +after the night on which she had been taken to Rebecca's house, she +never again was brought into contact with her relations. Lotta she once +saw, when walking in the street with Ruth; and Lotta too saw her, and +endeavoured to address her; but Nina fled, to the great delight of +Ruth, who ran with her; and Lotta Luxa was left behind at the street +corner. + +<p>I do not know that Nina ever had a more clearly-defined idea of the +trick that Lotta had played upon her, than was conveyed to her by the +sight of the deed as it was taken from her desk, and the knowledge that +Souchey had put her lover upon the track. She soon learned that she was +acquitted altogether by Anton, and she did not care for learning more. +Of course there had been a trick. Of course there had been deceit. Of +course her aunt and Lotta Luxa and Ziska, who was the worst of them +all, had had their hands in it! But what did it signify? They had +failed, and she had been successful. Why need she inquire farther? + +<p>But Souchey, who repented himself thoroughly of his treachery, spoke +his mind freely to Lotta Luxa. "No," said he, "not if you had ten times +as many florins, and were twice as clever, for you nearly drove me to +be the murderer of my mistress." +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr noshade> + +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NINA BALATKA***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 8897-h.txt or 8897-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/8/8/9/8897">https://www.gutenberg.org/8/8/9/8897</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Nina Balatka + + +Author: Anthony Trollope + +Release Date: September, 2005 [EBook #8897] +[This file was first posted on August 26, 2003] +[Most recently updated: June 8, 2010] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NINA BALATKA*** + + +E-text prepared by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D. + + + +NINA BALATKA + +by + +ANTHONY TROLLOPE + + + + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +Anthony Trollope was an established novelist of great renown when _Nina +Balatka_ was published in 1866, twenty years after his first novel. +Except for _La Vendee_, his third novel, set in France during the +Revolution, all his previous works were set in England or Ireland and +dealt with the upper levels of society: the nobility and the landed +gentry (wealthy or impoverished), and a few well-to-do merchants--people +several strata above the social levels of the characters popularized by +his contemporary Dickens. Most of Trollope's early novels were set in +the countryside or in provincial towns, with occasional forays into +London. The first of his political novels, _Can You Forgive Her_, dealing +with the Pallisers was published in 1864, two years before _Nina_. By the +time he began writing _Nina_, shortly after a tour of Europe, Trollope +was a master at chronicling the habits, foibles, customs, and ways of +life of his chosen subjects. + +_Nina Balatka_ is, on the surface, a love story--not an unusual theme for +Trollope. Romance and courtship were woven throughout all his previous +works, often with two, three, or even more pairs of lovers per novel. +Most of his heroes and heroines, after facing numerous hurdles, often +of their own making, were eventually happily united by the next-to-last +chapter. A few were doomed to disappointment (Johnny Eames never won +the heart of Lily Dale through two of the "Barsetshire" novels), but +marital bliss--or at least the prospect of bliss--was the usual outcome. +Even so, the reader of Trollope soon notices his analytical description +of Victorian courtship and marriage. In the circles of Trollope's +characters, only the wealthy could afford to marry for love; those +without wealth had to marry for money, sometimes with disastrous +consequences. By the time of _Nina_, Trollope's best exploration of +this subject was the marriage between Plantagenet Palliser and Lady +Glencora M'Cluskie, the former a cold fish and the latter a hot-blooded +heiress in love with a penniless scoundrel (_Can You Forgive Her?_ +1865). Yet to come was the disastrous marriage of intelligent Lady +Laura Standish to the wealthy but old-maidish Robert Kennedy in _Phineas +Finn_ and its sequel. + +But _Nina Balatka_ is different from Trollope's previous novels in four +respects. First, Trollope was accustomed to include in his novels his +own witty editorial comments about various subjects, often paragraphs +or even several pages long. No such comments are found in _Nina_. +Second, the story is set in Prague instead of the British isles. Third, +the hero and heroine are already in love and engaged to one another +at the opening; we are not told any details about their falling in +love. The hero, Anton Trendellsohn is a successful businessman in his +mid-thirties--not the typical Trollopian hero in his early twenties, still +finding himself, and besotted with love. Anton is rather cold as lovers +go, seldom whispering words of endearment to Nina. But it is the fourth +difference which really sets this novel apart and makes it both a +masterpiece and an enigma. That fourth--and most important--difference +is clearly stated in the remarkable opening sentence of the novel: + + Nina Balatka was a maiden of Prague, born of Christian parents, + and herself a Christian--but she loved a Jew; and this is her + story. + +Marriage--even worse, love--between a Christian and a Jew would have +been unacceptable to Victorian British readers. Blatant anti-semitism +was prevalent--perhaps ubiquitous--among the upper classes. + +Let us consider the origins of this anti-semitism. Jews were first +allowed into England by William the Conqueror. For a while they +prospered, largely through money-lending, an occupation to which +they were restricted. In the 13th century a series of increasingly +oppressive laws and taxes reduced the Jewish community to poverty, and +the Jews were expelled from England in 1290. They were not allowed to +return until 1656, when Oliver Cromwell authorized their entry over +the objections of British merchants. Legal protection for the Jews +increased gradually; even the "Act for the More Effectual Suppressing +of Blasphemy and Profaneness" (1698) recognized the practice of Judaism +as legal, but there were probably only a few hundred Jews in the entire +country. The British Jewish community grew gradually, and efforts to +emancipate the Jews were included in various "Reform Acts" in the first +half of the 19th century, although many failed to become law. Gradually +Jews were admitted to the bar and other professions. Full citizenship +and rights, including the right to sit in Parliament, were granted in +1858--only seven years before Trollope began writing _Nina Balatka_. By +this time wealthy Jewish families were growing in number. This upward +mobility and increasing economic and political power no doubt made the +British upper classes envious and resentful, fuelling anti-semitism. + +Trollope chose to have _Nina_ published anonymously in _Blackwood's +Magazine_ for reasons which he described in his autobiography: + + From the commencement of my success as a writer . . . I had + always felt an injustice in literary affairs which had never + afflicted me or even suggested itself to me while I was + unsuccessful. It seemed to me that a name once earned carried + with it too much favour . . . The injustice which struck me did + not consist in that which was withheld from me, but in that which + was given to me. I felt that aspirants coming up below me might + do work as good as mine, and probably much better work, and yet + fail to have it appreciated. In order to test this, I determined + to be such an aspirant myself, and to begin a course of novels + anonymously, in order that I might see whether I could succeed in + obtaining a second identity,--whether as I had made one mark by + such literary ability as I possessed, I might succeed in doing so + again. [1] + +Why did Trollope start his "new" career with a novel whose central theme +was a subject of distaste at best--more likely revulsion--to the vast +majority of the reading public? Perhaps the nature of the novel itself +led him to consider publishing it anonymously, although we know he was +not averse to controversial subjects. In his first book, _The Macdermots +of Ballycloran_, which he thought had the best plot of all his novels, +the principal female character is seduced by a scoundrel and dies giving +birth to an illegitimate child. + +Certainly _Nina_ was well-suited for the experiment because of it's +different setting and subject matter. Perhaps further to disguise his +authorship, Trollope wrote _Nina_ in a style of prose that reads almost +like a translation from a foreign language. + +The experiment did not last long enough to test Trollope's hypothesis. +Mr. Hutton, critic for the _Spectator_, recognized Trollope as the author +and so stated in his review. Trollope did not deny the accusation. + +One cannot discuss _Nina Balatka_ without addressing the question, was +Trollope himself anti-semitic? A careful reading of his works does not +provide a clear answer. Jews appear in some of his books and are referred +to in others, often as disreputable characters or money-lenders. They are +seldom mentioned by his Christian characters with respect, probably +realistically reflecting the sentiments of the classes he wrote about. +Some of his greatest villains in his later novels--Melmotte in _The Way +We Live Now_ (1875) and Lopez in _The Prime Minister_ (1876)--are rumored +to be Jewish, but Trollope never unequivocally identifies them as Jewish. +Perhaps his Christian characters expect them to be Jewish because they +are foreigners and villains. + +However, if one ignores the dialogue of his characters, even the +descriptive and editorial comments by Trollope himself at first seem +anti-semitic. He consistently uses "Jew" as a pejorative adjective +instead of "Jewish." His descriptions of the appearance of Jewish +characters are usually unflattering and stereotypical. Even Anton +Trendellsohn, the hero of _Nina Balatka_, is described as follows: + + To those who know the outward types of his race there could be no + doubt that Anton Trendellsohn was a very Jew among Jews. He was + certainly a handsome man, not now very young, having reached some + year certainly in advance of thirty, and his face was full of + intellect. He was slightly made, below the middle height, but was + well made in every limb, with small feet and hands, and small + ears, and a well-turned neck. He was very dark--dark as a man can + be, and yet show no sign of colour in his blood. No white man + could be more dark and swarthy than Anton Trendellsohn. His eyes, + however, which were quite black, were very bright. His jet-black + hair, as it clustered round his ears, had in it something of a + curl. Had it been allowed to grow, it would almost have hung in + ringlets; but it was worn very short, as though its owner were + jealous even of the curl. Anton Trendellsohn was decidedly a + handsome man; but his eyes were somewhat too close together in his + face, and the bridge of his aquiline nose was not sharply cut, as + is mostly the case with such a nose on a Christian face. The olive + oval face was without doubt the face of a Jew, and the mouth was + greedy, and the teeth were perfect and bright, and the movement of + the man's body was the movement of a Jew. + +This is not the typical description of the romantic hero of a Victorian +novel. Even so, Trollope's description of Anton is less derogatory than +his description of Ezekiel Brehgert, a character in a later novel, _The +Way We Live Now_: + + He was a fat, greasy man, good-looking in a certain degree, about + fifty, with hair dyed black, and beard and moustache dyed a dark + purple colour. The charm of his face consisted in a pair of very + bright black eyes, which were, however, set too near together in + his face for the general delight of Christians. He was stout fat + all over rather than corpulent and had that look of command in his + face which has become common to master-butchers, probably by long + intercourse with sheep and oxen. + +The case for Trollope being anti-semitic is harder to support, however, +when one considers the behavior of his Jewish characters. Brehgert, +whose physical description above is stereotypic, is one of the few +characters in _The Way We Live Now_ whose actions are completely +honorable. Trollope wrote 16 novels before _Nina Balatka_; only two of +those contain Jewish characters. The first, who plays a minor role in +_Orley Farm_ (1862), is Soloman Aram, an attorney--a Victorian Rumpole +--known for defending the accused at the Old Bailey. His skill is needed +to defend Lady Mason against a charge of perjury, much to the distaste +of her Christian advisors. He acts with dignity and shows great +consideration for the personal comfort of Lady Mason during her trial. +The second Jewish character in Trollope's novels was Mr. Hart, a London +tailor who runs for a seat in Parliament in _Rachel Ray_ (1863). This +served no purpose in the plot; the situation probably was included +because legislation to allow Jews to serve in Parliament had been +passed only five years before, and the issue was still one of public +discussion. Mr. Hart's appearance is brief; he speaks only one or +two lines, and the reader is not told enough about him to judge his +character. Trollope describes him thus: + + . . . and then the Jewish hero, the tailor himself, came among + them, and astonished their minds by the ease and volubility of his + speeches. He did not pronounce his words with any of those soft + slushy Judaic utterances by which they had been taught to believe + he would disgrace himself. His nose was not hookey, with any + especial hook, nor was it thicker at the bridge than was becoming. + He was a dapper little man, with bright eyes, quick motion, ready + tongue, and a very new hat. It seemed that he knew well how to + canvass. He had a smile and a good word for all--enemies as well + as friends. + +In that novel, Trollope, himself, comments on prejudice and bigotry: + + . . . Mrs. Ray, in her quiet way, expressed much joy that Mr. + Comfort's son-in-law should have been successful, and that + Baslehurst should not have disgraced itself by any connection + with a Jew. To her it had appeared monstrous that such a one + should have been even permitted to show himself in the town as a + candidate for its representation. To such she would have denied + all civil rights, and almost all social rights. For a true spirit + of persecution one should always go to a woman; and the milder, + the sweeter, the more loving, the more womanly the woman, the + stronger will be that spirit within her. Strong love for the thing + loved necessitates strong hatred for the thing hated, and thence + comes the spirit of persecution. They in England who are now + keenest against the Jews, who would again take from them rights + that they have lately won, are certainly those who think most of + the faith of a Christian. The most deadly enemies of the Roman + Catholics are they who love best their religion as Protestants. + When we look to individuals we always find it so, though it + hardly suits us to admit as much when we discuss these subjects + broadly. To Mrs. Ray it was wonderful that a Jew should have been + entertained in Baslehurst as a future member for the borough, and + that he should have been admitted to speak aloud within a few + yards of the church tower! + +_Nina Balatka_ presents a sharp contrast between the behaviors of the +Jewish and Christian characters. Nina and her father Josef Balatka +live on the edge of poverty; he was cheated out of his business by his +Christian brother-in-law, who is now wealthy. Josef's only source of +money was to sell his house to Anton Trendellsohn's father, who for many +years has allowed Josef and Nina to remain in the house without paying +any rent. Nina's Christian relatives use every form of deceit in their +attempt to turn Anton against Nina. Nina's Aunt Sophie spews invective +in every direction. She tells Nina, "Impudent girl!--brazen-faced, +impudent, bad girl! Do you not know that you would bring disgrace upon +us all?" To Nina's father she says, "Tell me that at once, Josef, +that I may know. Has she your sanction for--for--for this accursed +abomination?" To her husband she says, "Oh, I hate them! I do hate them! +Anything is fair against a Jew." And during a meeting with Anton she +exclaims, "How dares he come here to talk of his love? It is filthy--it +is worse than filthy--it is profane." + +Anton's family also opposes the marriage, but Anton's father's behavior +toward Nina is in sharp contrast to that of her aunt: + + The old man's heart was softened towards her. He could not bring + himself to say a word to her of direct encouragement, but he + kissed her before she went, telling her that she was a good girl, + and bidding her have no care as to the house in the Kleinseite. As + long as he lived, and her father, her father should not be + disturbed. + +Anton, being more a businessman than a lover, at times behaves +insensitively toward Nina. Otherwise, throughout the novel, the Jewish +characters act with honesty and kindness. Even the Jewish maiden who +wants to marry Anton does not scheme to break up his engagement to Nina +but rather befriends Nina and eventually saves her life. One has to +wonder whether Trollope intended this contrast to induce his readers to +reconsider their prejudices. Consider his perception of his duty as a +writer: + + . . . And the criticism [of my work offered by Hawthorne], + whether just or unjust, describes with wonderful accuracy the + purport that I have ever had in view in my writing. I have always + desired to 'hew out some lump of the earth', and to make men and + women walk upon it just as they do walk here among us,--with not + more of excellence, nor with exaggerated baseness,--so that my + readers might recognise human beings like to themselves, and not + feel themselves to be carried away among gods or demons. If I + could do this, then I thought I might succeed in impregnating the + mind of the novel-reader with a feeling that honesty is the best + policy; that truth prevails while falsehood fails; that a girl + will be loved as she is pure, and sweet, and unselfish; that a man + will be honoured as he is true, and honest, and brave of heart; + that things meanly done are ugly and odious, and things nobly done + beautiful and gracious. . . There are many who would laugh at the + idea of a novelist teaching either virtue or nobility,--those, for + instance, who regard the reading of novels as a sin, and those + also who think it to be simply an idle pastime. They look upon the + tellers of stories as among the tribe of those who pander to the + wicked pleasures of a wicked world. I have regarded my art from so + different a point of view that I have ever thought of myself as a + preacher of sermons, and my pulpit as one which I could make both + salutary and agreeable to my audience. I do believe that no girl + has risen from the reading of my pages less modest than she was + before, and that some may have learned from them that modesty is + a charm well worth preserving. I think that no youth has been + taught that in falseness and flashness is to be found the road to + manliness; but some may perhaps have learned from me that it is + to be found in truth and a high but gentle spirit. Such are the + lessons I have striven to teach; and I have thought that it might + best be done by representing to my readers characters like + themselves,--or to which they might liken themselves. [1] + +Given Trollope's philosophy, it is reasonable to believe that the +actions of his characters should speak louder than their words. If +so, Trollope might well have been holding up a mirror to his audience +that they might examine their own prejudices. Unfortunately, we shall +never know. + + + [1] Anthony Trollope. _An Autobiography_. Oxford University Press, + Oxford, 1950. + + + Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D. + Midland, 2003 + + Copyright (C) 2003 Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D. + This Introduction to _Nina Balatka_ is protected by + copyright and/or other applicable law. Any use of the + work other than as authorized in "The Legal Small Print" + section (found at the end of the book) is prohibited. + + + + + + + +NINA BALATKA + + + + +VOLUME I + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Nina Balatka was a maiden of Prague, born of Christian parents, and +herself a Christian--but she loved a Jew; and this is her story. + +Nina Balatka was the daughter of one Josef Balatka, an old merchant +of Prague, who was living at the time of this story; but Nina's mother +was dead. Josef, in the course of his business, had become closely +connected with a certain Jew named Trendellsohn, who lived in a mean +house in the Jews' quarter in Prague--habitation in that one allotted +portion of the town having been the enforced custom with the Jews then, +as it still is now. In business with Trendellsohn, the father, there +was Anton, his son; and Anton Trendellsohn was the Jew whom Nina +Balatka loved. Now it had so happened that Josef Balatka, Nina's +father, had drifted out of a partnership with Karil Zamenoy, a wealthy +Christian merchant of Prague, and had drifted into a partnership with +Trendellsohn. How this had come to pass needs not to be told here, as +it had all occurred in years when Nina was an infant. But in these +shiftings Balatka became a ruined man, and at the time of which I write +he and his daughter were almost penniless. The reader must know that +Karil Zamenoy and Josef Balatka had married sisters. Josef's wife, +Nina's mother, had long been dead, having died--so said Sophie Zamenoy, +her sister--of a broken heart; of a heart that had broken itself in +grief, because her husband had joined his fortunes with those of a Jew. +Whether the disgrace of the alliance or its disastrous result may have +broken the lady's heart, or whether she may have died of a pleurisy, as +the doctors said, we need not inquire here. Her soul had been long at +rest, and her spirit, we may hope, had ceased to fret itself in horror +at contact with a Jew. But Sophie Zamenoy was alive and strong, and +could still hate a Jew as intensely as Jews ever were hated in those +earlier days in which hatred could satisfy itself with persecution. In +her time but little power was left to Madame Zamenoy to persecute the +Trendellsohns other than that which nature had given to her in the +bitterness of her tongue. She could revile them behind their back, or, +if opportunity offered, to their faces; and both she had done often, +telling the world of Prague that the Trendellsohns had killed her +sister, and robbed her foolish brother-in-law. But hitherto the full +vial of her wrath had not been emptied, as it came to be emptied +afterwards; for she had not yet learned the mad iniquity of her niece. +But at the moment of which I now speak, Nina herself knew her own +iniquity, hardly knowing, however, whether her love did or did not +disgrace her. But she did know that any thought as to that was too +late. She loved the man, and had told him so; and were he gipsy as well +as Jew, it would be required of her that she should go out with him +into the wilderness. And Nina Balatka was prepared to go out into the +wilderness. Karil Zamenoy and his wife were prosperous people, and +lived in a comfortable modern house in the New Town. It stood in +a straight street, and at the back of the house there ran another +straight street. This part of the city is very little like that old +Prague, which may not be so comfortable, but which, of all cities on +the earth, is surely the most picturesque. Here lived Sophie Zamenoy; +and so far up in the world had she mounted, that she had a coach of +her own in which to be drawn about the thoroughfares of Prague and its +suburbs, and a stout little pair of Bohemian horses--ponies they were +called by those who wished to detract somewhat from Madame Zamenoy's +position. Madame Zamenoy had been at Paris, and took much delight +in telling her friends that the carriage also was Parisian; but, in +truth, it had come no further than from Dresden. Josef Balatka and +his daughter were very, very poor; but, poor as they were, they lived +in a large house, which, at least nominally, belonged to old Balatka +himself, and which had been his residence in the days of his better +fortunes. It was in the Kleinseite, that narrow portion of the town, +which lies on the other side of the river Moldau--the further side, +that is, from the so-called Old and New Town, on the western side of +the river, immediately under the great hill of the Hradschin. The +Old Town and the New Town are thus on one side of the river, and the +Kleinseite and the Hradschin on the other. To those who know Prague, +it need not here be explained that the streets of the Kleinseite are +wonderful in their picturesque architecture, wonderful in their lights +and shades, wonderful in their strange mixture of shops and palaces-- +and now, alas! also of Austrian barracks--and wonderful in their +intricacy and great steepness of ascent. Balatka's house stood in a +small courtyard near to the river, but altogether hidden from it, +somewhat to the right of the main street of the Kleinseite as you pass +over the bridge. A lane, for it is little more, turning from the main +street between the side walls of what were once two palaces, comes +suddenly into a small square, and from a corner of this square there is +an open stone archway leading into a court. In this court is the door, +or doors, as I may say, of the house in which Balatka lived with his +daughter Nina. Opposite to these two doors was the blind wall of +another residence. Balatka's house occupied two sides of the court, +and no other window, therefore, besides his own looked either upon it +or upon him. The aspect of the place is such as to strike with wonder a +stranger to Prague--that in the heart of so large a city there should +be an abode so sequestered, so isolated, so desolate, and yet so close +to the thickest throng of life. But there are others such, perhaps many +others such, in Prague; and Nina Balatka, who had been born there, +thought nothing of the quaintness of her abode. Immediately over the +little square stood the palace of the Hradschin, the wide-spreading +residence of the old kings of Bohemia, now the habitation of an +ex-emperor of the House of Hapsburg, who must surely find the thousand +chambers of the royal mansion all too wide a retreat for the use of his +old age. So immediately did the imperial hill tower over the spot on +which Balatka lived, that it would seem at night, when the moon was +shining as it shines only at Prague, that the colonnades of the palace +were the upper storeys of some enormous edifice, of which the broken +merchant's small courtyard formed a lower portion. The long rows of +windows would glimmer in the sheen of the night, and Nina would stand +in the gloom of the archway counting them till they would seem to be +uncountable, and wondering what might be the thoughts of those who +abode there. But those who abode there were few in number, and their +thoughts were hardly worthy of Nina's speculation. The windows of +kings' palaces look out from many chambers. The windows of the +Hradschin look out, as we are told, from a thousand. But the rooms +within have seldom many tenants, nor the tenants, perhaps, many +thoughts. Chamber after chamber, you shall pass through them by the +score, and know by signs unconsciously recognised that there is not, +and never has been, true habitation within them. Windows almost +innumerable are there, that they may be seen from the outside--and such +is the use of palaces. But Nina, as she would look, would people the +rooms with throngs of bright inhabitants, and would think of the joys +of happy girls who were loved by Christian youths, and who could dare +to tell their friends of their love. But Nina Balatka was no coward, +and she had already determined that she would at once tell her love to +those who had a right to know in what way she intended to dispose of +herself. As to her father, if only he could have been alone in the +matter, she would have had some hope of a compromise which would have +made it not absolutely necessary that she should separate herself from +him for ever in giving herself to Anton Trendellsohn. Josef Balatka +would doubtless express horror, and would feel shame that his daughter +should love a Jew--though he had not scrupled to allow Nina to go +frequently among these people, and to use her services with them for +staving off the ill consequences of his own idleness and ill-fortune; +but he was a meek, broken man, and was so accustomed to yield to Nina +that at last he might have yielded to her even in this. There was, +however, that Madame Zamenoy, her aunt--her aunt with the bitter tongue; +and there was Ziska Zamenoy, her cousin--her rich and handsome cousin, +who would so soon declare himself willing to become more than cousin, +if Nina would but give him one nod of encouragement, or half a smile of +welcome. But Nina hated her Christian lover, cousin though he was, as +warmly as she loved the Jew. Nina, indeed, loved none of the Zamenoys-- +neither her cousin Ziska, nor her very Christian aunt Sophie with the +bitter tongue, nor her prosperous, money-loving, acutely mercantile +uncle Karil; but, nevertheless, she was in some degree so subject to +them, that she knew that she was bound to tell them what path in life +she meant to tread. Madame Zamenoy had offered to take her niece to +the prosperous house in the Windberg-gasse when the old house in the +Kleinseite had become poor and desolate; and though this generous offer +had been most fatuously declined--most wickedly declined, as aunt +Sophie used to declare--nevertheless other favours had been vouchsafed; +and other favours had been accepted, with sore injury to Nina's pride. +As she thought of this, standing in the gloom of the evening under the +archway, she remembered that the very frock she wore had been sent to +her by her aunt. But I in spite of the bitter tongue, and in spite of +Ziska's derision, she would tell her tale, and would tell it soon. She +knew her own courage, and trusted it; and, dreadful as the hour would +be, she would not put it off by one moment. As soon as Anton should +desire her to declare her purpose, she would declare it; and as he who +stands on a precipice, contemplating the expediency of throwing himself +from the rock, will feel himself gradually seized by a mad desire to do +the deed out of hand at once, so did Nina feel anxious to walk off to +the Windberg-gasse, and dare and endure all that the Zamenoys could say +or do. She knew, or thought she knew, that persecution could not go now +beyond the work of the tongue. No priest could immure her. No law could +touch her because she was minded to marry a Jew. Even the people in +these days were mild and forbearing in their usages with the Jews, and +she thought that the girls of the Kleinseite would not tear her clothes +from her back even when they knew of her love. One thing, however, was +certain. Though every rag should be torn from her--though some priest +might have special power given him to persecute her--though the +Zamenoys in their wrath should be able to crush her--even though her +own father should refuse to see her, she would be true to the Jew. Love +to her should be so sacred that no other sacredness should be able to +touch its sanctity. She had thought much of love, but had never loved +before. Now she loved, and, heart and soul, she belonged to him to whom +she had devoted herself. Whatever suffering might be before her, though +it were suffering unto death, she would endure it if her lover demanded +such endurance. Hitherto, there was but one person who suspected her. +In her father's house there still remained an old dependant, who, +though he was a man, was cook and housemaid, and washer-woman and +servant-of-all-work; or perhaps it would be more true to say that +he and Nina between them did all that the requirements of the house +demanded. Souchey--for that was his name--was very faithful, but with +his fidelity had come a want of reverence towards his master and +mistress, and an absence of all respectful demeanour. The enjoyment of +this apparent independence by Souchey himself went far, perhaps, in +lieu of wages. + +"Nina," he said to her one morning, "you are seeing too much of Anton +Trendellsohn." + +"What do you mean by that, Souchey?" said the girl, sharply. + +"You are seeing too much of Anton Trendellsohn," repeated the old man. + +"I have to see him on father's account. You know that. You know that, +Souchey, and you shouldn't say such things." + +"You are seeing too much of Anton Trendellsohn," said Souchey for the +third time. "Anton Trendellsohn is a Jew." + +Then Nina knew that Souchey had read her secret, and was sure that it +would spread from him through Lotta Luxa, her aunt's confidential maid, +up to her aunt's ears. Not that Souchey would be untrue to her on +behalf of Madame Zamenoy, whom he hated; but that he would think +himself bound by his religious duty--he who never went near priest or +mass himself--to save his mistress from the perils of the Jew. The +story of her love must be told, and Nina preferred to tell it herself +to having it told for her by her servant Souchey. She must see Anton. +When the evening therefore had come, and there was sufficient dusk upon +the bridge to allow of her passing over without observation, she put +her old cloak upon her shoulders, with the hood drawn over her head, +and, crossing the river, turned to the left and made her way through +the narrow crooked streets which led to the Jews' quarter. She knew the +path well, and could have found it with blindfolded eyes. In the middle +of that close and densely populated region of Prague stands the old +Jewish synagogue--the oldest place of worship belonging to the Jews in +Europe, as they delight to tell you; and in a pinched-up, high-gabled +house immediately behind the synagogue, at the corner of two streets, +each so narrow as hardly to admit a vehicle, dwelt the Trendellsohns. +On the basement floor there had once been a shop. There was no shop +now, for the Trendellsohns were rich, and no longer dealt in retail +matters; but there had been no care, or perhaps no ambition, at work, +to alter the appearance of their residence, and the old shutters were +upon the window, making the house look as though it were deserted. +There was a high-pitched sharp roof over the gable, which, as +the building stood alone fronting upon the synagogue, made it so +remarkable, that all who knew Prague well, knew the house in which the +Trendellsohns lived. Nina had often wished, as in latter days she had +entered it, that it was less remarkable, so that she might have gone in +and out with smaller risk of observation. It was now the beginning of +September, and the clocks of the town had just struck eight as Nina put +her hand on the lock of the Jew's door. As usual it was not bolted, +and she was able to enter without waiting in the street for a servant +to come to her. She went at once along the narrow passage and up the +gloomy wooden stairs, at the foot of which there hung a small lamp, +giving just light enough to expel the actual blackness of night. On the +first landing Nina knocked at a door, and was desired to enter by a +soft female voice. The only occupant of the room when she entered was a +dark-haired child, some twelve years old perhaps, but small in stature +and delicate, and, as appeared to the eye, almost wan. "Well, Ruth +dear," said Nina, "is Anton at home this evening?" + +"He is up-stairs with grandfather, Nina. Shall I tell him?" + +"If you will, dear," said Nina, stooping down and kissing her. + +"Nice Nina, dear Nina, good Nina," said the girl, rubbing her glossy +curls against her friend's cheeks. "Ah, dear, how I wish you lived +here!" + +"But I have a father, as you have a grandfather, Ruth." + +"And he is a Christian." + +"And so am I, Ruth." + +"But you like us, and are good, and nice, and dear--and oh, Nina, you +are so beautiful! I wish you were one of us, and lived here. There is +Miriam Harter--her hair is as light as yours, and her eyes are as +grey." + +"What has that to do with it?" + +"Only I am so dark, and most of us are dark here in Prague. Anton says +that away in Palestine our girls are as fair as the girls in Saxony." + +"And does not Anton like girls to be dark?" + +"Anton likes fair hair--such as yours--and bright grey eyes such as +you have got. I said they were green, and he pulled my ears. But now +I look, Nina, I think they are green. And so bright! I can see my own +in them, though it is so dark. That is what they call looking babies." + +"Go to your uncle, Ruth, and tell him that I want him--on business." + +"I will, and he'll come to you. He won't let me come down again, so +kiss me, Nina; good-bye." + +Nina kissed the child again, and then was left alone in the room. It +was a comfortable chamber, having in it sofas and arm-chairs--much more +comfortable, Nina used to think, than her aunt's grand drawing-room in +the Windberg-gasse, which was covered all over with a carpet, after the +fashion of drawing-rooms in Paris; but the Jew's sitting-room was dark, +with walls painted a gloomy green colour, and there was but one small +lamp of oil upon the table. But yet Nina loved the room, and as she sat +there waiting for her lover, she wished that it had been her lot to +have been born a Jewess. Only, had that been so, her hair might perhaps +have been black, and her eyes dark, and Anton would not have liked her. +She put her hand up for a moment to her rich brown tresses, and felt +them as she took joy in thinking that Anton Trendellsohn loved to look +upon fair beauty. + +After a short while Anton Trendellsohn came down. To those who know +the outward types of his race there could be no doubt that Anton +Trendellsohn was a very Jew among Jews. He was certainly a handsome +man, not now very young, having reached some year certainly in advance +of thirty, and his face was full of intellect. He was slightly made, +below the middle height, but was well made in every limb, with small +feet and hands, and small ears, and a well-turned neck. He was very +dark--dark as a man can be, and yet show no sign of colour in his +blood. No white man could be more dark and swarthy than Anton +Trendellsohn. His eyes, however, which were quite black, were very +bright. His jet-black hair, as it clustered round his ears, had in it +something of a curl. Had it been allowed to grow, it would almost have +hung in ringlets; but it was worn very short, as though its owner were +jealous even of the curl. Anton Trendellsohn was decidedly a handsome +man; but his eyes were somewhat too close together in his face, and the +bridge of his aquiline nose was not sharply cut, as is mostly the case +with such a nose on a Christian face. The olive oval face was without +doubt the face of a Jew, and the mouth was greedy, and the teeth were +perfect and bright, and the movement of the man's body was the movement +of a Jew. But not the less on that account had he behaved with +Christian forbearance to his Christian debtor, Josef Balatka, and with +Christian chivalry to Balatka's daughter, till that chivalry had turned +itself into love. + +"Nina," he said, putting out his hand, and holding hers as he spoke, "I +hardly expected you this evening; but I am glad to see you--very glad." + +"I hope I am not troubling you, Anton?" + +"How can you trouble me? The sun does not trouble us when we want light +and heat." + +"Can I give you light and heat?" + +"The light and heat I love best, Nina." + +"If I thought that--if I could really think that--I would be happy +still, and would mind nothing." + +"And what is it you do mind?" + +"There are things to trouble us, of course. When aunt Sophie says that +all of us have our troubles--even she--I suppose that even she speaks +the truth." + +"Your aunt Sophie is a fool." + +"I should not mind if she were only a fool. But a fool can sometimes be +right." + +"And she has been scolding you because--you--prefer a Jew to a +Christian." + +"No--not yet, Anton. She does not know it yet; but she must know it." + +"Sit down, Nina." He was still holding her by the hand; and now, as he +spoke, he led her to a sofa which stood between the two windows. There +he seated her, and sat by her side, still holding her hand in his. +"Yes," he said, "she must know it of course--when the time comes; and +if she guesses it before, you must put up with her guesses. A few sharp +words from a foolish woman will not frighten you, I hope." + +"No words will frighten me out of my love, if you mean that--neither +words nor anything else." + +"I believe you. You are brave, Nina. I know that. Though you will cry +if one but frowns at you, yet you are brave." + +"Do not you frown at me, Anton." + +"I am one of those that do frown at times, I suppose; but I will be +true to you, Nina, if you will be true to me." + +"I will be true to you--true as the sun." + +As she made her promise she turned her sweet face up to his, and he +leaned over her, and kissed her. + +"And what is it that has disturbed you now, Nina? What has Madame +Zamenoy said to you?" + +"She has said nothing--as yet. She suspects nothing--as yet." + +"Then let her remain as she is." + +"But, Anton, Souchey knows, and he will talk." + +"Souchey! And do you care for that?" + +"I care for nothing--for nothing; for nothing, that is, in the way of +preventing me. Do what they will, they cannot tear my love from my +heart." + +"Nor can they take you away, or lock you up." + +"I fear nothing of that sort, Anton. All that I really fear is secrecy. +Would it not be best that I should tell father?" + +"What!--now, at once?" + +"If you will let me. I suppose he must know it soon." + +"You can if you please." + +"Souchey will tell him." + +"Will Souchey dare to speak of you like that?" asked the Jew. + +"Oh, yes; Souchey dares to say anything to father now. Besides, it is +true. Why should not Souchey say it?" + +"But you have not spoken to Souchey; you have not told him?" + +"I! No indeed. I have spoken never a word to anyone about that--only to +you. How should I speak to another without your bidding? But when they +speak to me I must answer them. If father asks me whether there be +aught between you and me, shall I not tell him then?" + +"It would be better to be silent for a while." + +"But shall I lie to him? I should not mind Souchey nor aunt Sophie +much; but I never yet told a lie to father." + +"I do not tell you to lie." + +"Let me tell it all. Anton, and then, whatever they may say, whatever +they may do, I shall not mind. I wish that they knew it, and then I +could stand up against them. Then I could tell Ziska that which would +make him hold his tongue for ever." + +"Ziska! Who cares for Ziska?" + +"You need not, at any rate." + +"The truth is, Nina, that I cannot be married till I have settled all +this about the houses in the Kleinseite. The very fact that you would +be your father's heir prevents my doing so." + +"Do you think that I wish to hurry you? I would rather stay as I am, +knowing that you love me." + +"Dear Nina! But when your aunt shall once know your secret, she will +give you no peace till you are out of her power. She will leave no +stone unturned to make you give up your Jew lover." + +"She may as well leave the turning of such stones alone." + +"But if she heard nothing of it till she heard that we were married--" + +"Ah! but that is impossible. I could not do that without telling +father, and father would surely tell my aunt." + +"You may do as you will, Nina; but it may be, when they shall know it, +that therefore there may be new difficulty made about the houses. Karil +Zamenoy has the papers, which are in truth mine--or my father's--which +should be here in my iron box." And Trendellsohn, as he spoke, put his +hand forcibly on the seat beside him, as though the iron box to which +he alluded were within his reach. + +"I know they are yours," said Nina. + +"Yes; and without them, should your father die, I could not claim my +property. The Zamenoys might say they held it on your behalf--and you +my wife at the time! Do you see, Nina? I could not stand that--I would +not stand that." + +"I understand it well, Anton." + +"The houses are mine--or ours, rather. Your father has long since had +the money, and more than the money. He knew that the houses were to be +ours." + +"He knows it well. You do not think that he is holding back the +papers?" + +"He should get them for me. He should not drive me to press him for +them. I know they are at Karil Zamenoy's counting-house; but your uncle +told me, when I spoke to him, that he had no business with me; if I had +a claim on him, there was the law. I have no claim on him. But I let +your father have the money when he wanted it, on his promise that the +deeds should be forthcoming. A Christian would not have been such a +fool." + +"Oh, Anton, do not speak to me like that." + +"But was I not a fool? See how it is now. Were you and I to become man +and wife, they would never give them up, though they are my own--my +own. No; we must wait; and you--you must demand them from your uncle." + +"I will demand them. And as for waiting, I care nothing for that if you +love me." + +"I do love you." + +"Then all shall be well with me; and I will ask for the papers. Father, +I know, wishes that you should have all that is your own. He would +leave the house to-morrow if you desired it." + +"He is welcome to remain there." + +"And now, Anton, good-night." + +"Good-night, Nina." + +"When shall I see you again?" + +"When you please, and as often. Have I not said that you are light +and heat to me? Can the sun rise too often for those who love it?" +Then she held her hand up to be kissed, and kissed his in return, and +went silently down the stairs into the street. He had said once in +the course of the conversation--nay, twice, as she came to remember +in thinking over it--that she might do as she would about telling +her friends; and she had been almost craftily careful to say nothing +herself, and to draw nothing from him, which could be held as +militating against this authority, or as subsequently negativing the +permission so given. She would undoubtedly tell her father--and her +aunt; and would as certainly demand from her uncle those documents of +which Anton Trendellsohn had spoken to her. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Nina, as she returned home from the Jews' quarter to her father's +house in the Kleinseite, paused for a while on the bridge to make some +resolution--some resolution that should be fixed--as to her immediate +conduct. Should she first tell her story to her father, or first to her +aunt Sophie? There were reasons for and against either plan. And if to +her father first, then should she tell it to-night? She was nervously +anxious to rush at once at her difficulties, and to be known to all +who belonged to her as the girl who had given herself to the Jew. It +was now late in the evening, and the moon was shining brightly on the +palace over against her. The colonnades seemed to be so close to her +that there could hardly be room for any portion of the city to cluster +itself between them and the river. She stood looking up at the great +building, and fell again into her trick of counting the windows, +thereby saving herself a while from the difficult task of following out +the train of her thoughts. But what were the windows of the palace to +her? So she walked on again till she reached a spot on the bridge at +which she almost always paused a moment to perform a little act of +devotion. There, having a place in the long row of huge statues which +adorn the bridge, is the figure of the martyr St John Nepomucene, who +at this spot was thrown into the river because he would not betray the +secrets of a queen's confession, and was drowned, and who has ever +been, from that period downwards, the favourite saint of Prague--and +of bridges. On the balustrade, near the figure, there is a small plate +inserted in the stone-work and good Catholics, as they pass over the +river, put their hands upon the plate, and then kiss their fingers. So +shall they be saved from drowning and from all perils of the water--as +far, at least, as that special transit of the river may be perilous. +Nina, as a child, had always touched the stone, and then touched her +lips, and did the act without much thought as to the saving power of St +John Nepomucene. But now, as she carried her hand up to her face, she +did think of the deed. Had she, who was about to marry a Jew, any right +to ask for the assistance of a Christian saint? And would such a deed +that she now proposed to herself put her beyond the pale of Christian +aid? Would the Madonna herself desert her should she marry a Jew? If +she were to become truer than ever to her faith--more diligent, more +thoughtful, more constant in all acts of devotion--would the blessed +Mary help to save her, even though she should commit this great sin? +Would the mild-eyed, sweet Saviour, who had forgiven so many women, who +had saved from a cruel death the woman taken in adultery, who had been +so gracious to the Samaritan woman at the well--would He turn from her +the graciousness of His dear eyes, and bid her go out for ever from +among the faithful? Madame Zamenoy would tell her so, and so would +Sister Teresa, an old nun, who was on most friendly terms with Madame +Zamenoy, and whom Nina altogether hated; and so would the priest, to +whom, alas! she would be bound to give faith. And if this were so, +whither should she turn for comfort? She could not become a Jewess! She +might call herself one; but how could she be a Jewess with her strong +faith in St Nicholas, who was the saint of her own Church, and in St +John of the River, and in the Madonna? No; she must be an outcast from +all religions, a Pariah, one devoted absolutely to the everlasting +torments which lie beyond Purgatory--unless, indeed, unless that +mild-eyed Saviour would be content to take her faith and her acts of +hidden worship, despite her aunt, despite that odious nun, and despite +the very priest himself! She did not know how this might be with her, +but she did know that all the teaching of her life was against any such +hope. + +But what was--what could be the good of such thoughts to her? Had not +things gone too far with her for such thoughts to be useful? She loved +the Jew, and had told him so; and not all the penalties with which the +priests might threaten her could lessen her love, or make her think of +her safety here or hereafter, as a thing to be compared with her love. +Religion was much to her; the fear of the everlasting wrath of Heaven +was much to her; but love was paramount! What if it were her soul? +Would she not give even her soul for her love, if, for her love's sake, +her soul should be required from her? When she reached the archway, she +had made up her mind that she would tell her aunt first, and that she +would do so early on the following day. Were she to tell her father +first, her father might probably forbid her to speak on the subject to +Madame Zamenoy, thinking that his own eloquence and that of the priest +might prevail to put an end to so terrible an iniquity, and that so +Madame Zamenoy might never learn the tidings. Nina, thinking of all +this, and being quite determined that the Zamenoys should know what +she intended to tell them, resolved that she would say nothing on that +night at home. + +"You are very late, Nina," said her father to her, crossly, as soon +as she entered the room in which they lived. It was a wide apartment, +having in it now but little furniture--two rickety tables, a few +chairs, an old bureau in which Balatka kept, under lock and key, all +that still belonged to him personally, and a little desk, which was +Nina's own repository. + +"Yes, father, I am late; but not very late. I have been with Anton +Trendellsohn." + +"And what have you been there for now?" + +"Anton Trendellsohn has been talking to me about the papers which uncle +Karil has. He wants to have them himself. He says they are his." + +"I suppose he means that we are to be turned out of the old house." + +"No, father; he does not mean that. He is not a cruel man. But he says +that--that he cannot settle anything about the property without having +the papers. I suppose that is true." + +"He has the rent of the other houses," said Balatka. + +"Yes; but if the papers are his, he ought to have them." + +"Did he send for them?" + +"No, father; he did not send." + +"And what made you go?" + +"I am so of often going there. He had spoken to me before about this. +He thinks you do not like him to come here, and you never go there +yourself." + +After this there was a pause for a few minutes, and Nina was settling +herself to her work. Then the old man spoke again. + +"Nina, I fear you see too much of Anton Trendellsohn." The words were +the very words of Souchey; and Nina was sure that her father and the +servant had been discussing her conduct. It was no more than she had +expected, but her father's words had come very quickly upon Souchey's +speech to herself. What did it signify? Everybody would know it all +before twenty-four hours had passed by. Nina, however, was determined +to defend herself at the present moment, thinking that there was +something of injustice in her father's remarks. "As for seeing him +often, father, I have done it because your business has required it. +When you were ill in April I had to be there almost daily." + +"But you need not have gone to-night. He did not send for you." + +"But it is needful that something should be done to get for him that +which is his own." As she said this there came to her a sting of +conscience, a thought that reminded her that, though she was not lying +to her father in words, she was in fact deceiving him; and remembering +her assertion to her lover that she had never spoken falsely to her +father, she blushed with shame as she sat in the darkness of her seat. + +"To-morrow father," she said, "I will talk to you more about this, and +you shall not at any rate say that I keep anything from you." + +"I have never said so, Nina." + +"It is late now, father. Will you not go to bed?" + +Old Balatka yielded to this suggestion, and went to his bed; and Nina, +after some hour or two, went to hers. But before doing so she opened +the little desk that stood in the corner of their sitting-room, of +which the key was always in her pocket, and took out everything that it +contained. There were many letters there, of which most were on matters +of business--letters which in few houses would come into the hands of +such a one as Nina Balatka, but which, through the weakness of her +father's health, had come into hers. Many of these she now read; some +few she tore and burned in the stove, and others she tied in bundles +and put back carefully into their place. There was not a paper in the +desk which did not pass under her eye, and as to which she did not come +to some conclusion, either to keep it or to burn it. There were no +love-letters there. Nina Balatka had never yet received such a letter +as that. She saw her lover too frequently to feel much the need of +written expressions of love; and such scraps of his writing as there +were in the bundles, referred altogether to small matters of business. +When she had thus arranged her papers, she too went to bed. On the next +morning, when she gave her father his breakfast, she was very silent. +She made for him a little chocolate, and cut for him a few slips of +white bread to dip into it. For herself, she cut a slice from a black +loaf made of rye flour, and mixed with water a small quantity of the +thin sour wine of the country. Her meal may have been worth perhaps a +couple of kreutzers, or something less than a penny, whereas that of +her father may have cost twice as much. Nina was a close and sparing +housekeeper, but with all her economy she could not feed three people +upon nothing. Latterly, from month to month, she had sold one thing out +of the house after another, knowing as each article went that provision +from such store as that must soon fail her. But anything was better +than taking money from her aunt whom she hated--except taking money +from the Jew whom she loved. From him she had taken none, though it had +been often offered. "You have lost more than enough by father," she had +said to him when the offer had been made. "What I give to the wife of +my bosom shall never be reckoned as lost," he had answered. She had +loved him for the words, and had pressed his hand in hers--but she had +not taken his money. From her aunt some small meagre supply had been +accepted from time to time--a florin or two now, and a florin or two +again--given with repeated intimations on aunt Sophie's part, that +her husband Karil could not be expected to maintain the house in the +Kleinseite. Nina had not felt herself justified in refusing such gifts +from her aunt to her father, but as each occasion came she told herself +that some speedy end must be put to this state of things. Her aunt's +generosity would not sustain her father, and her aunt's generosity +nearly killed herself. On this very morning she would do that which +should certainly put an end to a state of things so disagreeable. +After breakfast, therefore, she started at once for the house in the +Windberg-gasse, leaving her father still in his bed. She walked very +quick, looking neither to the right nor the left, across the bridge, +along the river-side, and then up into the straight ugly streets of the +New Town. The distance from her father's house was nearly two miles, +and yet the journey was made in half an hour. She had never walked so +quickly through the streets of Prague before; and when she reached the +end of the Windberg-gasse, she had to pause a moment to collect her +thoughts and her breath. But it was only for a moment, and then the +bell was rung. + +Yes; her aunt was at home. At ten in the morning that was a matter of +course. She was shown, not into the grand drawing-room, which was only +used on grand occasions, but into a little back parlour which, in spite +of the wealth and magnificence of the Zamenoys, was not so clean as the +room in the Kleinseite, and certainly not so comfortable as the Jew's +apartment. There was no carpet; but that was not much, as carpets in +Prague were not in common use. There were two tables crowded with +things needed for household purposes, half-a-dozen chairs of different +patterns, a box of sawdust close under the wall, placed there that +papa Zamenoy might spit into it when it pleased him. There was a crowd +of clothes and linen hanging round the stove, which projected far into +the room; and spread upon the table, close to which was placed mamma +Zamenoy's chair, was an article of papa Zamenoy's dress, on which mamma +Zamenoy was about to employ her talents in the art of tailoring. All +this, however, was nothing to Nina, nor was the dirt on the floor much +to her, though she had often thought that if she were to go and live +with aunt Sophie, she would contrive to make some improvement as to the +cleanliness of the house. + +"Your aunt will be down soon," said Lotta Luxa as they passed through +the passage. "She is very angry, Nina, at not seeing you all the last +week." + +"I don't know why she should be angry, Lotta. I did not say I would +come." + +Lotta Luxa was a sharp little woman, over forty years of age, with +quick green eyes and thin red-tipped nose, looking as though Paris +might have been the town of her birth rather than Prague. She wore +short petticoats, clean stockings, an old pair of slippers; and in the +back of her hair she still carried that Diana's dart which maidens wear +in those parts when they are not only maidens unmarried, but maidens +also disengaged. No one had yet succeeded in drawing Lotta Luxa's arrow +from her head, though Souchey, from the other side of the river, had +made repeated attempts to do so. For Lotta Luxa had a little money of +her own, and poor Souchey had none. Lotta muttered something about the +thoughtless thanklessness of young people, and then took herself +down-stairs. Nina opened the door of the back parlour, and found her +cousin Ziska sitting alone with his feet propped upon the stove. + +"What, Ziska," she said, "you not at work by ten o'clock!" + +"I was not well last night, and took physic this morning," said Ziska. +"Something had disagreed with me." + +"I'm sorry for that, Ziska. You eat too much fruit, I suppose." + +"Lotta says it was the sausage, but I don't think it was. I'm very fond +of sausage, and everybody must be ill sometimes. She'll be down here +again directly;" and Ziska with his head nodded at the chair in which +his mother was wont to sit. + +Nina, whose mind was quite full of her business, was determined to go +to work at once. "I'm glad to have you alone for a moment, Ziska," she +said. + +"And so am I very glad; only I wish I had not taken physic, it makes +one so uncomfortable." + +At this moment Nina had in her heart no charity towards her cousin, and +did not care for his discomfort. "Ziska," she said, "Anton Trendellsohn +wants to have the papers about the houses in the Kleinseite. He says +that they are his, and you have them." + +Ziska hated Anton Trendellsohn, hardly knowing why he hated him. "If +Trendellsohn wants anything of us," said he, "why does he not come to +the office? He knows where to find us." + +"Yes, Ziska, he knows where to find you; but, as he says, he has no +business with you--no business as to which he can make a demand. He +thinks, therefore, you would merely bid him begone." + +"Very likely. One doesn't want to see more of a Jew than one can help." + +"That Jew, Ziska, owns the house in which father lives. That Jew, +Ziska, is the best friend that--that--that father has." + +"I'm sorry you think so, Nina." + +"How can I help thinking it? You can't deny, nor can uncle, that the +houses belong to him. The papers got into uncle's hands when he and +father were together, and I think they ought to be given up now. Father +thinks that the Trendellsohns should have them. Even though they are +Jews, they have a right to their own." + +"You know nothing about it, Nina. How should you know about such things +as that?" + +"I am driven to know. Father is ill, and cannot come himself." + +"Oh, laws! I am so uncomfortable. I never will take stuff from Lotta +Luxa again. She thinks a man is the same as a horse." + +This little episode put a stop to the conversation about the +title-deeds, and then Madame Zamenoy entered the room. Madame Zamenoy +was a woman of a portly demeanour, well fitted to do honour by her +personal presence to that carriage and horses with which Providence and +an indulgent husband had blessed her. And when she was dressed in her +full panoply of French millinery--the materials of which had come from +England, and the manufacture of which had taken place in Prague--she +looked the carriage and horses well enough. But of a morning she was +accustomed to go about the house in a pale-tinted wrapper, which, +pale-tinted as it was, should have been in the washing-tub much oftener +than was the case with it--if not for cleanliness, then for mere decency +of appearance. + +And the mode in which she carried her matutinal curls, done up with +black pins, very visible to the eye, was not in itself becoming. The +handkerchief which she wore in lieu of cap, might have been excused on +the score of its ugliness, as Madame Zamenoy was no longer young, had +it not been open to such manifest condemnation for other sins. And in +this guise she would go about the house from morning to night on days +not made sacred by the use of the carriage. Now Lotta Luxa was clean in +the midst of her work; and one would have thought that the cleanliness +of the maid would have shamed the slatternly ways of the mistress. But +Madame Zamenoy and Lotta Luxa had lived together long, and probably +knew each other well. + +"Well, Nina," she said, "so you've come at last?" + +"Yes; I've come, aunt. And as I want to say something very particular +to you yourself, perhaps Ziska won't mind going out of the room for a +minute." Nina had not sat down since she had been in the room, and was +now standing before her aunt with almost militant firmness. She was +resolved to rush at once at the terrible subject which she had in hand, +but she could not do so in the presence of her cousin Ziska. + +Ziska groaned audibly. "Ziska isn't well this morning," said Madame +Zamenoy, "and I do not wish to have him disturbed." + +"Then perhaps you'll come into the front parlour, aunt." + +"What can there be that you cannot say before Ziska?" + +"There is something, aunt," said Nina. + +If there were a secret, Madame Zamenoy decidedly wished to hear it, and +therefore, after pausing to consider the matter for a moment or two, +she led the way into the front parlour. + +"And now, Nina, what is it? I hope you have not disturbed me in this +way for anything that is a trifle." + +"It is no trifle to me, aunt. I am going to be married to--Anton +Trendellsohn." She said the words slowly, standing bolt-upright, at her +greatest height, as she spoke them, and looking her aunt full in the +face with something of defiance both in her eyes and in the tone of +her voice. She had almost said, "Anton Trendellsohn, the Jew;" and when +her speech was finished, and admitted of no addition, she reproached +herself with pusillanimity in that she had omitted the word which had +always been so odious, and would now be doubly odious--odious to her +aunt in a tenfold degree. + +Madame Zamenoy stood for a while speechless--struck with horror. +The tidings which she heard were so unexpected, so strange, and so +abominable, that they seemed at first to crush her. Nina was her +niece--her sister's child; and though she might be repudiated, +reviled, persecuted, and perhaps punished, still she must retain her +relationship to her injured relatives. And it seemed to Madame Zamenoy +as though the marriage of which Nina spoke was a thing to be done at +once, out of hand--as though the disgusting nuptials were to take place +on that day or on the next, and could not now be avoided. It occurred +to her that old Balatka himself was a consenting party, and that utter +degradation was to fall upon the family instantly. There was that in +Nina's air and manner, as she spoke of her own iniquity, which made the +elder woman feel for the moment that she was helpless to prevent the +evil with which she was threatened. + +"Anton Trendellsohn--a Jew," she said, at last. + +"Yes, aunt; Anton Trendellsohn, the Jew. I am engaged to him as his +wife." + +There was a something of doubtful futurity in the word engaged, which +gave a slight feeling of relief to Madame Zamenoy, and taught her to +entertain a hope that there might be yet room for escape. "Marry a Jew, +Nina," she said; "it cannot be possible!" + +"It is possible, aunt. Other Jews in Prague have married Christians." + +"Yes, I know it. There have been outcasts among us low enough so to +degrade themselves--low women who were called Christians. There has +been no girl connected with decent people who has ever so degraded +herself. Does your father know of this?" + +"Not yet." + +"Your father knows nothing of it, and you come and tell me that you are +engaged--to a Jew!" Madame Zamenoy had so far recovered herself that +she was now able to let her anger mount above her misery. "You wicked +girl! Why have you come to me with such a story as this?" + +"Because it is well that you should know it. I did not like to deceive +you, even by secrecy. You will not be hurt. You need not notice me any +longer. I shall be lost to you, and that will be all." + +"If you were to do such a thing you would disgrace us. But you will not +be allowed to do it." + +"But I shall do it." + +"Nina!" + +"Yes, aunt. I shall do it. Do you think I will be false to my troth?" + +"Your troth to a Jew is nothing. Father Jerome will tell you so." + +"I shall not ask Father Jerome. Father Jerome, of course, will condemn +me; but I shall not ask him whether or not I am to keep my promise--my +solemn promise." + +"And why not?" + +Then Nina paused a moment before she answered. But she did answer, and +answered with that bold defiant air which at first had disconcerted her +aunt. + +"I will ask no one, aunt Sophie, because I love Anton Trendellsohn, and +have told him that I love him." + +"Pshaw!" + +"I have nothing more to say, aunt. I thought it right to tell you, and +now I will go." + +She had turned to the door, and had her hand upon the lock when her +aunt stopped her. "Wait a moment, Nina. You have had your say; now you +must hear me." + +"I will hear you if you say nothing against him." + +"I shall say what I please." + +"Then I will not hear you." Nina again made for the door, but her aunt +intercepted her retreat. "Of course you can stop me, aunt, in that way +if you choose." + +"You bold, bad girl!" + +"You may say what you please about myself." + +"You are a bold, bad girl!" + +"Perhaps I am. Father Jerome says we are all bad. And as for boldness, +I have to be bold." + +"You are bold and brazen. Marry a Jew! It is the worst thing a +Christian girl could do." + +"No, it is not. There are things ten times worse than that." + +"How you could dare to come and tell me!" + +"I did dare, you see. If I had not told you, you would have called me +sly." + +"You are sly." + +"I am not sly. You tell me I am bad and bold and brazen." + +"So you are." + +"Very likely. I do not say I am not. But I am not sly. Now, will you +let me go, aunt Sophie?" + +"Yes, you may go--you may go; but you may not come here again till this +thing has been put an end to. Of course I shall see your father and +Father Jerome, and your uncle will see the police. You will be locked +up, and Anton Trendellsohn will be sent out of Bohemia. That is how it +will end. Now you may go." And Nina went her way. + +Her aunt's threat of seeing her father and the priest was nothing to +Nina. It was the natural course for her aunt to take, and a course in +opposition to which Nina was prepared to stand her ground firmly. But +the allusion to the police did frighten her. She had thought of the +power which the law might have over her very often, and had spoken of +it in awe to her lover. He had reassured her, explaining to her that, +as the law now stood in Austria, no one but her father could prevent +her marriage with a Jew, and that he could only do so till she was of +age. Now Nina would be twenty-one on the first of the coming month, and +therefore would be free, as Anton told her, to do with herself as she +pleased. But still there came over her a cold feeling of fear when her +aunt spoke to her of the police. The law might give the police no power +over her; but was there not a power in the hands of those armed men +whom she saw around her on every side, and who were seldom countrymen +of her own, over and above the law? Were there not still dark dungeons +and steel locks and hard hearts? Though the law might justify her, how +would that serve her, if men--if men and women, were determined to +persecute her? As she walked home, however, she resolved that dark +dungeons and steel locks and hard hearts might do their worst against +her. She had set her will upon one thing in this world, and from +that one thing no persecution should drive her. They might kill her, +perhaps. Yes, they might kill her; and then there would be an end of +it. But to that end she would force them to come before she would +yield. So much she swore to herself as she walked home on that morning +to the Kleinseite. + +Madame Zamenoy, when Nina left her, sat in solitary consideration for +some twenty minutes, and then called for her chief confidant, Lotta +Luxa. With many expressions of awe, and with much denunciation of her +niece's iniquity, she told to Lotta what she had heard, speaking of +Nina as one who was utterly lost and abandoned. Lotta, however, did not +express so much indignant surprise as her mistress expected, though she +was willing enough to join in abuse against Nina Balatka. + +"That comes of letting girls go about just as they please among the +men," said Lotta. + +"But a Jew!" said Madame Zamenoy. "If it had been any kind of a +Christian, I could understand it." + +"Trendellsohn has such a hold upon her, and upon her father," said +Lotta. + +"But a Jew! She has been to confession, has she not?" + +"Regularly," said Lotta Luxa. + +"Dear, dear! what a false hypocrite! And at mass?" + +"Four mornings a-week always." + +"And to tell me, after it all, that she means to marry a Jew. Of +course, Lotta, we must prevent it." + +"But how? Her father will do whatever she bids him." + +"Father Jerome would do anything for me." + +"Father Jerome can do little or nothing if she has the bit between her +teeth," said Lotta. "She is as obstinate as a mule when she pleases. She +is not like other girls. You cannot frighten her out of anything." + +"I'll try, at least," said Madame Zamenoy. + +"Yes, we can try," said Lotta. + +"Would not the mayor help us--that is, if we were driven to go to +that?" + +"I doubt if he could do anything. He would be afraid to use a high +hand. He is Bohemian. The head of the police might do something, if +we could get at him." + +"She might be taken away." + +"Where could they take her?" asked Lotta. "No; they could not take her +anywhere." + +"Not into a convent--out of the way somewhere in Italy?" + +"Oh, heaven, no! They are afraid of that sort of thing now. All Prague +would know of it, and would talk; and the Jews would be stronger than +the priests; and the English people would hear of it, and there would +be the very mischief." + +"The times have come to be very bad, Lotta." + +"That's as may be," said Lotta as though she had her doubts upon the +subject. "That's as may be. But it isn't easy to put a young woman +away now without her will. Things have changed--partly for the worse, +perhaps, and partly for the better. Things are changing every day. My +wonder is that he should wish to many her." + +"The men think her very pretty. Ziska is mad about her," said Madame +Zamenoy. + +"But Ziska is a calf to Anton Trendellsohn. Anton Trendellsohn has cut +his wise teeth. Like them all, he loves his money; and she has not got +a kreutzer." + +"But he has promised to marry her. You may be sure of that." + +"Very likely. A man always promises that when he wants a girl to be +kind to him. But why should he stick to it? What can he get by marrying +Nina--a penniless girl, with a pauper for a father? The Trendellsohns +have squeezed that sponge dry already." + +This was a new light to Madame Zamenoy, and one that was not altogether +unpleasant to her eyes. That her niece should have promised herself to +a Jew was dreadful, and that her niece should be afterwards jilted by +the Jew was a poor remedy. But still it was a remedy, and therefore she +listened. + +"If nothing else can be done, we could perhaps put him against it," +said Lotta Luxa. + +Madame Zamenoy on that occasion said but little more, but she agreed +with her servant that it would be better to resort to any means than +to submit to the degradation of an alliance with the Jew. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +On the third day after Nina's visit to her aunt, Ziska Zamenoy came +across to the Kleinseite on a visit to old Balatka. In the mean time +Nina had told the story of her love to her father, and the effect on +Balatka had simply been that he had not got out of his bed since. For +himself he would have cared, perhaps, but little as to the Jewish +marriage, had he not known that those belonging to him would have cared +so much. He had no strong religious prejudice of his own, nor indeed +had he strong feeling of any kind. He loved his daughter, and wished +her well; but even for her he had been unable to exert himself in his +younger days, and now simply expected from her hands all the comfort +which remained to him in this world. The priest he knew would attack +him, and to the priest he would be able to make no answer. But to +Trendellsohn, Jew as he was, he would trust in worldly matters, rather +than to the Zamenoys; and were it not that he feared the Zamenoys, and +could not escape from his close connection with them, he would have +been half inclined to let the girl marry the Jew. Souchey, indeed, had +frightened him on the subject when it had first been mentioned to him; +and Nina, coming with her own assurance so quickly after Souchey's +suspicion, had upset him; but his feeling in regard to Nina had none +of that bitter anger, no touch of that abhorrence which animated the +breast of his sister-in-law. When Ziska came to him he was alone in +his bedroom. Ziska had heard the news, as had all the household in the +Windberg-gasse, and had come over to his uncle's house to see what he +could do, by his own diplomacy, to put an end to an engagement which +was to him doubly calamitous. "Uncle Josef," he said, sitting by the +old man's bed, "have you heard what Nina is doing?" + +"What she is doing!" said the uncle. "What is she doing?" Balatka +feared all the Zamenoys, down to Lotta Luxa; but he feared Ziska less +than he feared any other of the household. + +"Have you heard of Anton Trendellsohn?" + +"What of Anton Trendellsohn? I have been hearing of Anton Trendellsohn +for the last thirty years. I have known him since he was born." + +"Do you wish to have him for a son-in-law?" + +"For a son-in-law?" + +"Yes, for a son-in-law--Anton Trendellsohn, the Jew. Would he be a good +husband for our Nina? You say nothing, uncle Josef." + +"What am I to say?" + +"You have heard of it, then? Why can you not answer me, uncle Josef? +Have you heard that Trendellsohn has dared to ask Nina to be his wife?" + +"There is not so much of daring in it, Ziska. Among you all the poor +girl is a beggar. If some one does not take pity on her, she will +starve soon." + +"Take pity on her! Do not we all take pity on her?" + +"No," said Josef Balatka, turning angrily against his nephew; "not a +scrap of pity--not a morsel of love. You cannot rid yourself of her +quite--of her or me--and that is your pity." + +"You are wrong there." + +"Very well; then let me be wrong. I can understand what is before my +eyes. Look round the house and see what we are coming to. Nina at the +present moment has not got a florin in her purse. We are starving, or +next to it, and yet you wonder that she should be willing to marry an +honest man who has plenty of money." + +"But he is a Jew!" + +"Yes; he is a Jew. I know that." + +"And Nina knows it." + +"Of course she does. Do you go home and eat nothing for a week, and +then see whether a Jew's bread will poison you." + +"But to marry him, uncle Josef!" + +"It is very bad. I know it is bad, but what can I do? If she says she +will do it, how can I help it? She has been a good child to me--a very +good child; and am I to lie here and see her starve? You would not give +to your dog the morsel of bread which she ate this morning before she +went out." + +All this was a new light to Ziska. He knew that his uncle and cousin +were very poor, and had halted in his love because he was ashamed +of their poverty; but he had never thought of them as people hungry +from want of food, or cold from want of clothes. It may be said of +him, to his credit, that his love had been too strong for his shame, +and that he had made up his mind to marry his cousin Nina in spite +of her poverty. When Lotta Luxa had called him a calf she had +not inappropriately defined one side of his character. He was a +good-looking well-grown young man, not very wise, quickly susceptible +to female influences, and gifted with eyes capable of convincing him +that Nina Balatka was by far the prettiest woman whom he ever saw. But, +in connection with such calf-like propensities, Ziska was endowed with +something of his mother's bitterness and of his father's persistency; +and the old Zamenoys did not fear but that the fortunes of the family +would prosper in the hands of their son. And when it was known to +Madame Zamenoy and to her husband Karil that Ziska had set his heart +upon having his cousin, they had expressed no displeasure at the +prospect, poor as the Balatkas were. "There is no knowing how it may +go about the houses in the Kleinseite," Karil Zamenoy had said. "Old +Trendellsohn gets the rent and the interest, but he has little or +nothing to show for them--merely a written surrender from Josef, +which is worth nothing." No hindrance, therefore was placed in the +way of Ziska's suit, and Nina might have been already accepted in the +Windberg-gasse had Nina chosen to smile upon Ziska. Now Ziska was told +that the girl he loved was to marry a Jew because she was starving, +and the tidings threw a new light upon him. Why had he not offered +assistance to Nina? It was not surprising that Nina should be so hard +to him--to him who had as yet offered her nothing in her poverty but +a few cold compliments. + +"She shall have bread enough, if that is what she wants," said Ziska. + +"Bread and kindness," said the old man. + +"She shall have kindness too, uncle Josef. I love Nina better than any +Jew in Prague can love her." + +"Why should not a Jew love? I believe the man loves her well. Why else +should he wish to make her his wife?" + +"And I love her well--and I would make her my wife." + +"You want to marry Nina!" + +"Yes, uncle Josef. I wish to marry Nina. I will marry her to-morrow-- +or, for that matter, to-day--if she will have me." + +"You! Ziska Zamenoy!" + +"I, Ziska Zamenoy." + +"And what would your mother say?" + +"Both father and mother will consent. There need be no hindrance if +Nina will agree. I did not know that you were so badly off. I did not +indeed, or I would have come to you myself and seen to it." + +Old Balatka did not answer for a while, having turned himself in his +bed to think of the proposition which had been made to him. "Would you +not like to have me for a son-in-law better than a Jew, uncle Josef?" +said Ziska, pleading for himself as best he knew how to plead. + +"Have you ever spoken to Nina?" said the old man. + +"Well, no; not exactly to say what I have said to you. When one loves a +girl as I love her, somehow--I don't know how--But I am ready to do so +at once. + +"Ah, Ziska, if you had done it sooner!" + +"But is it too late? You say she has taken up with this man because you +are both so poor. She cannot like a Jew best." + +"But she is true--so true!" + +"If you mean about her promise to Trendellsohn, Father Jerome would +tell her in a minute that she should not keep such a promise to a Jew." + +"She would not mind Father Jerome." + +"And what does she mind? Will she not mind you?" + +"Me; yes--she will mind me, to give me my food." + +"Will she not obey you?" + +"How am I to bid her obey me? But I will try, Ziska." + +"You would not wish her to marry a Jew?" + +"No, Ziska; certainly I should not wish it." + +"And you will give me your consent?" + +"Yes, if it be any good to you." + +"It will be good if you will be round with her, telling her that she +must not do such a thing as this. Love a Jew! It is impossible. As +you have been so very poor, she may be forgiven for having thought of +it. Tell her that, uncle Josef; and whatever you do, be firm with her." + +"There she is in the next room," said the father, who had heard his +daughter's entrance. Ziska's face had assumed something of a defiant +look while he was recommending firmness to the old man; but now that +the girl of whom he had spoken was so near at hand, there returned to +his brow the young calf-like expression with which Lotta Luxa was so +well acquainted. "There she is, and you will speak to her yourself +now," said Balatka. + +Ziska got up to go, but as he did so he fumbled in his pocket and +brought forth a little bundle of bank-notes. A bundle of bank-notes in +Prague may be not little, and yet represent very little money. When +bank-notes are passed for two-pence and become thick with use, a man +may have a great mass of paper currency in his pocket without being +rich. On this occasion, however, Ziska tendered to his uncle no +two-penny notes. There was a note for five florins, and two or three +for two florins, and perhaps half-a-dozen for a florin each, so that +the total amount offered was sufficient to be of real importance to +one so poor as Josef Balatka. + +"This will help you awhile," said Ziska, "and if Nina will come round +and be a good girl, neither you nor she shall want anything; and she +need not be afraid of mother, if she will only do as I say." Balatka +had put out his hand and had taken the money, when the bedroom door was +opened, and Nina came in. + +"What, Ziska," said she, "are you here?" + +"Why not? why should I not see my uncle?" + +"It is very good of you, certainly; only, as you never came before--" + +"I mean it for kindness, now I have come, at any rate," said Ziska. + +"Then I will take it for kindness," said Nina. + +"Why should there be quarrelling among relatives?" said the old man +from among the bed-clothes. + +"Why, indeed?" said Ziska. + +"Why, indeed," said Nina, "--if it could be helped?" + +She knew that the outward serenity of the words spoken was too good to +be a fair representation of thoughts below in the mind of any of them. +It could not be that Ziska had come there to express even his own +consent to her marriage with Anton Trendellsohn; and without such +consent there must of necessity be a continuation of quarrelling. "Have +you been speaking to father, Ziska, about those papers?" Nina was +determined that there should be no glozing of matters, no soft words +used effectually to stop her in her projected course. So she rushed at +once at the subject which she thought most important in Ziska's +presence. + +"What papers?" said Ziska. + +"The papers which belong to Anton Trendellsohn about this house and the +others. They are his, and you would not wish to keep things which +belong to another, even though he should be a--Jew." + +Then it occurred to Ziska that Trendellsohn might be willing to give +up Nina if he got the papers, and that Nina might be willing to be +free from the Jew by the same arrangement. It could not be that such a +girl as Nina Balatka should prefer the love of a Jew to the love of a +Christian. So at least Ziska argued in his own mind. "I do not want to +keep anything that belongs to anybody," said Ziska. "If the papers are +with us, I am willing that they should be given up--that is, if it be +right that they should be given up." + +"It is right," said Nina. + +"I believe the Trendellsohns should have them--either father or son," +said old Balatka. + +"Of course they should have them," said Nina; "either father or son--it +makes no matter which." + +"I will try and see to it," said Ziska. + +"Pray do," said Nina; "it will be only just; and one would not wish +to rob even a Jew, I suppose." Ziska understood nothing of what was +intended by the tone of her voice, and began to think that there might +really be ground for hope. + +"Nina," he said, "your father is not quite well. I want you to speak to +me in the next room." + +"Certainly, Ziska, if you wish it. Father, I will come again to you +soon. Souchey is making your soup, and I will bring it to you when it +is ready." Then she led the way into the sitting-room, and as Ziska +came through, she carefully shut the door. The walls dividing the rooms +were very thick, and the door stood in a deep recess, so that no sound +could be heard from one room to another. Nina did not wish that her +father should hear what might now pass between herself and her cousin, +and therefore she was careful to shut the door close. + +"Ziska," said she, as soon as they were together, "I am very glad that +you have come here. My aunt is so angry with me that I cannot speak +with her, and uncle Karil only snubs me if I say a word to him about +business. He would snub me, no doubt, worse than ever now; and yet who +is there here to speak of such matters if I may not do so? You see how +it is with father." + +"He is not able to do much, I suppose." + +"He is able to do nothing, and there is nothing for him to do--nothing +that can be of any use. But of course he should see that those who have +been good to him are not--are not injured because of their kindness." + +"You mean those Jews--the Trendellsohns." + +"Yes, those Jews the Trendellsohns! You would not rob a man because he +is a Jew," said she, repeating the old words. + +"They know how to take care of themselves, Nina." + +"Very likely." + +"They have managed to get all your father's property between them." + +"I don't know how that is. Father says that the business which uncle +and you have was once his, and that he made it. In these matters the +weakest always goes to the wall. Father has no son to help him, as +uncle Karil has--and old Trendellsohn." + +"You may help him better than any son." + +"I will help him if I can. Will you and uncle give up those papers +which you have kept since father left them with uncle Karil, just that +they might be safe?" + +This question Ziska would not answer at once. The matter was one on +which he wished to negotiate, and he was driven to the necessity of +considering what might be the best line for his diplomacy. "I am sure, +Ziska," continued Nina, "you will understand why I ask this. Father is +too weak to make the demand, and uncle would listen to nothing that +Anton Trendellsohn would say to him." + +"They say that you have betrothed yourself to this Jew, Nina." + +"It is true. But that has nothing to do with it." + +"He is very anxious to have the deeds?" + +"Of course he is anxious. Father is old and poorly; and what would he +do if father were to die?" + +"Nina, he shall have them--if he will give you up." + +Nina turned away from her cousin and looked out from the window into +the little court. Ziska could not see her face; but had he done so he +would not have been able to read the smile of triumph with which for a +moment or two it became brilliant. No; Anton would make no such bargain +as that! Anton loved her better than any title-deeds. Had he not told +her that she was his sun--the sun that gave to him light and heat? "If +they are his own, why should he be asked to make any such bargain?" +said Nina. + +"Nina," said Ziska, throwing all his passion into his voice, as he best +knew how, "it cannot be that you should love this man." + +"Why not love him?" + +"A Jew!" + +"Yes--a Jew! I do love him." + +"Nina!" + +"What have you to say, Ziska? Whatever you say, do not abuse him. It is +my affair, not yours. You may think what you like of me for taking such +a husband, but remember that he is to be my husband." + +"Nina, let me be your husband." + +"No, Ziska; that cannot be." + +"I love you. I love you fifty times better than he can do. Is not a +Christian's love better than a Jew's?" + +"Because I do not love you. Can there be any other reason in such a +matter? I do not love you. I do not care if I never see you. But him I +love with all my heart. To see him is the only delight of my life. To +sit beside him, with his hand in mine, and my head on his shoulder, is +heaven to me. To obey him is my duty; to serve him is my pleasure. To +be loved by him is the only good thing which God has given me on earth. +Now, Ziska, you will know why I cannot be your wife." Still she stood +before him, and still she looked up into his face, keeping her gaze +upon him even after her words were finished. + +"Accursed Jew!" said Ziska. + +"That is right, Ziska; curse him; it is so easy." + +"And you too will be cursed--here and hereafter. If you marry a Jew you +will be accursed to all eternity." + +"That, too, is very easy to say." + +"It is not I who say it. The priest will tell you the same." + +"Let him tell me so; it is his business, but it is not yours. You say +it because you cannot have what you want yourself; that is all. When +shall I call in the Ross Markt for the papers?" In the Ross Markt was +the house of business of Karil Zamenoy, and there, as Nina well knew, +were kept the documents which she was so anxious to obtain. But the +demand at this moment was made simply with the object of vexing Ziska, +and urging him on to further anger. + +"Unless you will give up Anton Trendellsohn, you had better not come to +the Ross Markt." + +"I will never give him up." + +"We will see. Perhaps he will give you up after a while. It will be a +fine thing to be jilted by a Jew." + +"The Jew, at any rate, shall not be jilted by the Christian. And now, +if you please, I will ask you to go. I do not choose to be insulted in +father's house. It is his house still." + +"Nina, I will give you one more chance." + +"You can give me no chance that will do you or me any good. If you will +go, that is all I want of you now." + +For a moment or two Ziska stood in doubt as to what he would next do +or say. Then he took up his hat and went away without another word. On +that same evening some one rang the bell at the door of the house in +the Windberg-gasse in a most humble manner--with that weak, hesitating +hand which, by the tone which it produces, seems to insinuate that no +one need hurry to answer such an appeal, and that the answer, when +made, may be made by the lowest personage in the house. In this +instance, however, Lotta Luxa did answer the bell, and not the stout +Bohemian girl who acted in the household of Madame Zamenoy as assistant +and fag to Lotta. And Lotta found Nina at the door, enveloped in her +cloak. "Lotta," she said, "will you kindly give this to my cousin +Ziska?" Then, not waiting for a word, she started away so quickly that +Lotta had not a chance of speaking to her, no power of uttering an +audible word of abuse. When Ziska opened the parcel thus brought to +him, he found it to contain all the notes which he had given to Josef +Balatka. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +When Nina returned to her father after Ziska's departure, a very few +words made everything clear between them. "I would not have him if +there was not another man in the world," Nina had said. "He thinks that +it is only Anton Trendellsohn that prevents it, but he knows nothing +about what a girl feels. He thinks that because we are poor I am to be +bought, this way or that way, by a little money. Is that a man, father, +that any girl can love?" Then the father had confessed his receipt of +the bank-notes from Ziska, and we already know to what result that +confession had led. + +Till she had delivered her packet into the hands of Lotta Luxa, she +maintained her spirits by the excitement of the thing she was doing. +Though she should die in the streets of hunger, she would take no money +from Ziska Zamenoy. But the question now was not only of her wants, but +of her father's. That she, for herself, would be justified in returning +Ziska's money there could be no doubt; but was she equally justified in +giving back money that had been given to her father? As she walked to +the Windberg-gasse, still holding the parcel of notes in her hand, she +had no such qualms of conscience; but as she returned, when it was +altogether too late for repentance, she made pictures to herself of +terrible scenes in which her father suffered all the pangs of want, +because she had compelled him to part with this money. If she were to +say one word to Anton Trendellsohn, all her trouble on that head would +be over. Anton Trendellsohn would at once give her enough to satisfy +their immediate wants. In a month or two, when she would be Anton's +wife, she would not be ashamed to take everything from his hand; and +why should she be ashamed now to take something from him to whom she +was prepared to give everything? But she was ashamed to do so. She felt +that she could not go to him and ask him for bread. One other resource +she had. There remained to her of her mother's property a necklace, +which was all that was left to her from her mother. And when this +had been given to her at her mother's death, she had been specially +enjoined not to part with it. Her father then had been too deeply +plunged in grief to say any words on such a subject, and the gift had +been put into her hands by her aunt Sophie. Even aunt Sophie had been +softened at that moment, and had shown some tenderness to the orphan +child. "You are to keep it always for her sake," aunt Sophie had said; +and Nina had hitherto kept the trinket, when all other things were +gone, in remembrance of her mother. She had hitherto reconciled herself +to keeping her little treasure, when all other things were going, by +the sacredness of the deposit; and had told herself that even for her +father's sake she must not part with the gift which had come to her +from her mother. But now she comforted herself by the reflection that +the necklace would produce for her enough to repay her father that +present from Ziska which she had taken from him. Her father had pleaded +sorely to be allowed to keep the notes. In her emotion at the moment +she had been imperative with him, and her resolution had prevailed. But +she thought of his entreaties as she returned home, and of his poverty +and wants, and she determined that the necklace should go. It would +produce for her at any rate as much as Ziska had given. She wished that +she had brought it with her, as she passed the open door of a certain +pawnbroker, which she had entered often during the last six months, and +whither she intended to take her treasure, so that she might comfort +her father on her return with the sight of the money. But she had it +not, and she went home empty-handed. "And now, Nina, I suppose we may +starve," said her father, whom she found sitting close to the stove in +the kitchen, while Souchey was kneeling before it, putting in at the +little open door morsels of fuel which were lamentably insufficient for +the poor man's purpose of raising a fire. The weather, indeed, was as +yet warm--so warm that in the middle of the day the heat was matter of +complaint to Josef Balatka; but in the evening he would become chill; +and as there existed some small necessity for cooking, he would beg +that he might thus enjoy the warmth of the kitchen. + +"Yes, we shall starve now," said Souchey, complacently. "There is not +much doubt about our starving." + +"Souchey, I wonder you should speak like that before father," said +Nina. + +"And why shouldn't he speak?" said Balatka. "I think he has as much +right as any one." + +"He has no right to make things worse than they are." + +"I don't know how I could do that, Nina," said the servant. "What made +you take that money back to your aunt?" + +"I didn't take it back to my aunt." + +"Well, to any of the family then? I suppose it came from your aunt?" + +"It came from my cousin Ziska, and I thought it better to give it back. +Souchey, do not you come in between father and me. There are troubles +enough; do not you make them worse." + +"If I had been here you should never have taken it back again," said +Souchey, obstinately. + +"Father," said Nina, appealing to the old man, "how could I have kept +it? You knew why it was given." + +"Who is to help us if we may not take it from them?" + +"To-morrow," said Nina, "I can get as much as he brought. And I will, +and you shall see it." + +"Who will give it you, Nina?" + +"Never mind, father, I will have it." + +"She will beg it from her Jew lover," said Souchey. + +"Souchey," said she, with her eyes flashing fire at him, "if you cannot +treat your master's daughter better than that, you may as well go." + +"Is it not true?" demanded Souchey. + +"No, it is not true; it is false. I have never taken money from Anton; +nor shall I do so till we are married." + +"And that will be never," said Souchey. "It is as well to speak out at +once. The priest will not let it be done." + +"All the priests in Prague cannot hinder it," said Nina. + +"That is true," said Balatka. + +"We shall see," said Souchey. "And in the mean time what is the good +of fighting with the Zamenoys? They are your only friends, Nina, and +therefore you take delight in quarrelling with them. When people have +money, they should be allowed to have a little pride." Nina said +nothing further on the occasion, though Souchey and her father went +on grumbling for an hour. She discovered, however, from various words +that her father allowed to fall from him, that his opposition to her +marriage had nearly faded away. It seemed to be his opinion that if she +were to marry the Jew, the sooner she did it the better. Now, Nina was +determined that she would marry the Jew, though heaven and earth should +meet in consequence. She would marry him if he would marry her. They +had told her that the Jew would jilt her. She did not put much faith in +the threat; but even that was more probable than that she should jilt +him. + +On the following morning Souchey, in return, as it were, for his +cruelty to his young mistress on the preceding day, produced some small +store of coin which he declared to be the result of a further sale of +the last relics of his master's property; and Nina's journey with the +necklace to the pawnbroker was again postponed. That day and the next +were passed in the old house without anything to make them memorable +except their wearisome misery, and then Nina again went out to visit +the Jews' quarter. She told herself that she was taken there by the +duties of her position; but in truth she could hardly bear her life +without the comfort of seeing the only person who would speak kindly +to her. She was engaged to marry this man, but she did not know when +she was to be married. She would ask no question of her lover on that +matter; but she could tell him--and she felt herself bound to tell him +--what was really her own position, and also all that she knew of his +affairs. He had given her to understand that he could not marry her +till he had obtained possession of certain documents which he believed +to be in the possession of her uncle. And for these documents she, with +his permission, had made application. She had at any rate discovered +that they certainly were at the office in the Ross Markt. So much she +had learned from Ziska; and so much, at any rate, she was bound to make +known to her lover. And, moreover, since she had seen him she had told +all her relatives of her engagement. They all knew now that she loved +the Jew, and that she had resolved to marry him; and of this also it +was her duty to give him tidings. The result of her communication to +her father and her relatives in the Windberg-gasse had been by no means +so terrible as she had anticipated. The heavens and the earth had not +as yet shown any symptoms of coming together. Her aunt, indeed, had +been very angry; and Lotta Luxa and Souchey had told her that such a +marriage would not be allowed. Ziska, too, had said some sharp words; +and her father, for the first day or two, had expostulated. But the +threats had been weak threats, and she did not find herself to be +annihilated--indeed, hardly to be oppressed--by the scolding of any +of them. What the priest might say she had not yet experienced; but +opposition from other quarters had not as yet come upon her in any +form that was not endurable. Her aunt had intended to consume her with +wrath, but Nina had not found herself to be consumed. All this it was +necessary that she should tell to Anton Trendellsohn. It was grievous +to her that it should be always her lot to go to her lover, and that he +should never--almost never--be able to seek her. It would in truth be +never now, unless she could induce her father to receive Anton openly +as his acknowledged future son-in-law; and she could hardly hope that +her father would yield so far as that. Other girls, she knew, stayed +till their lovers came to them, or met them abroad in public places--at +the gardens and music-halls, or perhaps at church; but no such joys as +these were within reach of Nina. The public gardens, indeed, were open +to her and to Anton Trendellsohn as they were to others; but she knew +that she would not dare to be seen in public with her Jew lover till +the thing was done and she and the Jew had become man and wife. On this +occasion, before she left her home, she was careful to tell her father +where she was going. "Have you any message to the Trendellsohns?" she +asked. + +"So you are going there again?" her father said. + +"Yes, I must see them. I told you that I had a commission from them to +the Zamenoys, which I have performed, and I must let them know what I +did. Besides, father, if this man is to be my husband, is it not well +that I should see him?" Old Balatka groaned, but said nothing further, +and Nina went forth to the Jews' quarter. + +On this occasion she found Trendellsohn the elder standing at the door +of his own house. + +"You want to see Anton," said the Jew. "Anton is out. He is away +somewhere in the city--on business." + +"I shall be glad to see you, father, if you can spare me a minute." + +"Certainly, my child--an hour if it will serve you. Hours are not +scarce with me now, as they used to be when I was Anton's age, and as +they are with him now. Hours, and minutes too, are very scarce with +Anton in these days. Then he led the way up the dark stairs to the +sitting-room, and Nina followed him. Nina and the elder Trendellsohn +had always hitherto been friends. Before her engagement with his son +they had been affectionate friends, and since that had been made known +to him there had been no quarrel between them. But the old man had +hardly approved of his son's purpose, thinking that a Jew should look +for the wife of his bosom among his own people, and thinking also, +perhaps, that one who had so much of worldly wealth to offer as his +son should receive something also of the same in his marriage. Old +Trendellsohn had never uttered a word of complaint to Nina--had said +nothing to make her suppose that she was not welcome to the house; but +he had never spoken to her with happy, joy-giving words, as the future +bride of his son. He still called her his daughter, as he had done +before; but he did it only in his old fashion, using the affectionate +familiarity of an old friend to a young maiden. He was a small, aged +man, very thin and meagre in aspect--so meagre as to conceal in part, +by the general tenuity of his aspect, the shortness of his stature. +He was not even so tall as Nina, as Nina had discovered, much to her +surprise. His hair was grizzled, rather than grey, and the beard on his +thin, wiry, wizened face was always close shorn. He was scrupulously +clean in his person, and seemed, even at his age, to take a pride in +the purity and fineness of his linen. He was much older than Nina's +father--more than ten years older, as he would sometimes boast; but he +was still strong and active, while Nina's father was worn out with age. +Old Trendellsohn was eighty, and yet he would be seen trudging about +through the streets of Prague, intent upon his business of money-making; +and it was said that his son Anton was not even as yet actually in +partnership with him, or fully trusted by him in all his plans. + +"Father," Nina said, "I am glad that Anton is out, as now I can speak a +word to you." + +"My dear, you shall speak fifty words." + +"That is very good of you. Of course I know that the house we live in +does in truth belong to you and Anton." + +"Yes, it belongs to me," said the Jew. + +"And we can pay no rent for it." + +"Is it of that you have come to speak, Nina? If so, do not trouble +yourself. For certain reasons, which Anton can explain, I am willing +that your father should live there without rent." + +Nina blushed as she found herself compelled to thank the Jew for his +charity. "I know how kind you have been to father," she said. + +"Nay, my daughter, there has been no great kindness in it. Your father +has been unfortunate, and, Jew as I am, I would not turn him into the +street. Do not trouble yourself to think of it." + +"But it was not altogether about that, father. Anton spoke to me the +other day about some deeds which should belong to you." + +"They do belong to me," said Trendellsohn. + +"But you have them not in your own keeping." + +"No, we have not. It is, I believe, the creed of a Christian that +he may deal dishonestly with a Jew, though the Jew who shall deal +dishonestly with a Christian is to be hanged. It is strange what +latitude men will give themselves under the cloak of their religion! +But why has Anton spoken to you of this? I did not bid him." + +"He sent me with a message to my aunt Sophie." + +"He was wrong; he was very foolish; he should have gone himself." + +"But, father, I have found out that the papers you want are certainly +in my uncle's keeping in the Ross Markt." + +"Of course they are, my dear. Anton might have known that without +employing you." + +So far Nina had performed but a small part of the task which she had +before her. She found it easier to talk to the old man about the +title-deeds of the house in the Kleinseite than she did to tell him of +her own affairs. But the thing was to be done, though the doing of it +was difficult; and, after a pause, she persevered. "And I told aunt +Sophie," she said, with her eyes turned upon the ground, "of my +engagement with Anton." + +"You did?" + +"Yes; and I told father." + +"And what did your father say?" + +"Father did not say much. He is poorly and weak." + +"Yes, yes; not strong enough to fight against the abomination of a Jew +son-in-law. And what did your aunt say? She is strong enough to fight +anybody." + +"She was very angry." + +"I suppose so, I suppose so. Well, she is right. As the world goes in +Prague, my child, you will degrade yourself by marrying a Jew." + +"I want nothing prouder than to be Anton's wife," said Nina. + +"And to speak sooth," said the old man, "the Jew will degrade himself +fully as much by marrying you." + +"Father, I would not have that. If I thought that my love would injure +him, I would leave him." + +"He must judge for himself," said Trendellsohn, relenting somewhat. + +"He must judge for himself and for me too," said Nina. + +"He will be able, at any rate, to keep a house over your head." + +"It is not for that," said Nina, thinking of her cousin Ziska's offer. +She need not want for a house and money if she were willing to sell +herself for such things as them. + +"Anton will be rich, Nina, and you are very poor." + +"Can I help that, father? Such as I am, I am his. If all Prague were +mine I would give it to him." + +The old man shook his head. "A Christian thinks that it is too much +honour for a Jew to marry a Christian, though he be rich, and she have +not a ducat for her dower." + +"Father, your words are cruel. Do you believe I would give Anton my +hand if I did not love him? I do not know much of his wealth; but, +father, I might be the promised wife of a Christian to-morrow, who is, +perhaps, as rich as he--if that were anything." + +"And who is that other lover, Nina?" + +"It matters not. He can be nothing to me--nothing in that way. I love +Anton Trendellsohn, and I could not be the wife of any other but him." + +"I wish it were otherwise. I tell you so plainly to your face. I wish +it were otherwise. Jews and Christians have married in Prague, I know, +but good has never come of it. Anton should find a wife among his own +people; and you--it would be better for you to take that other offer of +which you spoke." + +"It is too late, father." + +"No, Nina, it is not too late. If Anton would be wise, it is not too +late." + +"Anton can do as he pleases. It is too late for me. If Anton thinks it +well to change his mind, I shall not reproach him. You can tell him so, +father--from me." + +"He knows my mind already, Nina. I will tell him, however, what you say +of your own friends. They have heard of your engagement, and are angry +with you, of course." + +"Aunt Sophie and her people are angry." + +"Of course they will oppose it. They will set their priests at you, and +frighten you almost to death. They will drive the life out of your +young heart with their curses. You do not know what sorrows are before +you." + +"I can bear all that. There is only one sorrow that I fear. If Anton is +true to me, I will not mind all the rest." + +The old man's heart was softened towards her. He could not bring +himself to say a word to her of direct encouragement, but he kissed her +before she went, telling her that she was a good girl, and bidding her +have no care as to the house in the Kleinseite. As long as he lived, +and her father, her father should not be disturbed. And as for deeds, +he declared, with something of a grim smile on his old visage, that +though a Jew had always a hard fight to get his own from a Christian, +the hard fighting did generally prevail at last. "We shall get them, +Nina, when they have put us to such trouble and expense as their +laws may be able to devise. Anton knows that as well as I do." + +At the door of the house Nina found the old man's grand-daughter +waiting for her. Ruth Jacobi was the girl's name, and she was the +orphaned child of a daughter of old Trendellsohn. Father and mother +were both dead; and of her father, who had been dead long, Ruth had +no memory. But she still wore some remains of the black garments which +had been given to her at her mother's funeral; and she still grieved +bitterly for her mother, having no woman with her in that gloomy house, +and no other child to comfort her. Her grandfather and her uncle were +kind to her--kind after their own gloomy fashion; but it was a sad +house for a young girl, and Ruth, though she knew nothing of any better +abode, found the days to be very long, and the months to be very +wearisome. + +"What has he been saying to you, Nina?" the girl asked, taking hold of +her friend's dress, to prevent her escape into the street. "You need +not be in a hurry for a minute. He will not come down." + +"I am not afraid of him. Ruth." + +"I am, then. But perhaps he is not cross to you." + +"Why should he be cross to me?" + +"I know why, Nina, but I will not say. Uncle Anton has been out all the +day, and was not home to dinner. It is much worse when he is away." + +"Is Anton ever cross to you, Ruth?" + +"Indeed he is--sometimes. He scolds much more than grandfather. But he +is younger, you know." + +"Yes; he is younger, certainly." + +"Not but what he is very old, too; much too old for you, Nina. When I +have a lover I will never have an old man." + +"But Anton is not old." + +"Not like grandfather, of course. But I should like a lover who would +laugh and be gay. Uncle Anton is never gay. My lover shall be only two +years older than myself. Uncle Anton must be twenty years older than +you, Nina." + +"Not more than ten--or twelve at the most." + +"He is too old to laugh and dance." + +"Not at all, dear; but he thinks of other things." + +"I should like a lover to think of the things that I think about. It is +all very well being steady when you have got babies of your own; but +that should be after ever so long. I should like to keep my lover as a +lover for two years. And all that time he should like to dance with me, +and to hear music, and to go about just where I would like to go." + +"And what then, Ruth?" + +"Then? Why, then I suppose I should marry him, and become stupid like +the rest. But I should have the two years to look back at and to +remember. Do you think, Nina, that you will ever come and live here +when you are married?" + +"I do not know that I shall ever be married, Ruth." + +"But you mean to marry uncle Anton?" + +"I cannot say. It may be so." + +"But you love him, Nina?" + +"Yes, I love him. I love him with all my heart. I love him better than +all the world besides. Ruth, you cannot tell how I love him. I would +lie down and die if he were to bid me." + +"He will never bid you do that." + +"You think that he is old, and dull, and silent, and cross. But when he +will sit still and not say a word to me for an hour together, I think +that I almost love him the best. I only want to be near him, Ruth." + +"But you do not like him to be cross." + +"Yes, I do. That is, I like him to scold me if he is angry. If he were +angry, and did not scold a little, I should think that he was really +vexed with me." + +"Then you must be very much in love, Nina?" + +"I am in love--very much." + +"And does it make you happy?" + +"Happy! Happiness depends on so many things. But it makes me feel that +there can only be one real unhappiness; and unless that should come to +me, I shall care for nothing. Good-bye, love. Tell your uncle that I +was here, and say--say to him when no one else can hear, that I went +away with a sad heart because I had not seen him." + +It was late in the evening when Anton Trendellsohn came home, but Ruth +remembered the message that had been intrusted to her, and managed to +find a moment in which to deliver it. But her uncle took it amiss, and +scolded her. "You two have been talking nonsense together here half the +day, I suppose." + +"I spoke to her for five minutes, uncle; that was all." + +"Did you do your lessons with Madame Pulsky?" + +"Yes, I did, uncle--of course. You know that." + +"I know that it is a pity you should not be better looked after." + +"Bring Nina home here and she will look after me." + +"Go to bed, miss--at once, do you hear?" + +Then Ruth went off to her bed, wondering at Nina's choice, and +declaring to herself, that if ever she took in hand a lover at all, he +should be a lover very different from her uncle, Anton Trendellsohn. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The more Madame Zamenoy thought of the terrible tidings which had +reached her, the more determined did she become to prevent the +degradation of the connection with which she was threatened. She +declared to her husband and son that all Prague were already talking +of the horror, forgetting, perhaps, that any knowledge which Prague had +on the subject must have come from herself. She had, indeed, consulted +various persons on the subject in the strictest confidence. We have +already seen that she had told Lotta Luxa and her son, and she had, of +course, complained frequently on the matter to her husband. She had +unbosomed herself to one or two trusty female friends who lived near +her, and she had applied for advice and assistance to two priests. +To Father Jerome she had gone as Nina's confessor, and she had also +applied to the reverend pastor who had the charge of her own little +peccadilloes. The small amount of assistance which her clerical allies +offered to her had surprised her very much. She had, indeed, gone so +far as to declare to Lotta that she was shocked by their indifference. +Her own confessor had simply told her that the matter was in the hands +of Father Jerome, as far as it could be said to belong to the Church at +all; and had satisfied his conscience by advising his dear friend to +use all the resources which female persecution put at her command. "You +will frighten her out of it, Madame Zamenoy, if you go the right way +about it," said the priest. Madame Zamenoy was well inclined to go the +right way about it, if she only knew how. She would make Nina's life a +burden to her if she could only get hold of the girl, and would scruple +at no threats as to this world or the next. But she thought that her +priest ought to have done more for her in such a crisis than simply +giving her such ordinary counsel. Things were not as they used to be, +she knew; but there was even yet something of the prestige of power +left to the Church, and there were convents with locks and bars, and +excommunication might still be made terrible, and public opinion, in +the shape of outside persecution, might, as Madame Zamenoy thought, +have been brought to bear. Nor did she get much more comfort from +Father Jerome. His reliance was placed chiefly on operations to be +carried on with the Jew; and, failing them, on the opposition which +the Jew would experience among his own people. "They think more of it +than we do," said Father Jerome. + +"How can that be, Father Jerome?" + +"Well, they do. He would lose caste among all his friends by such a +marriage, and would, I think, destroy all his influence among them. +When he perceives this more fully he will be shy enough about it +himself. Besides, what is he to get?" + +"He will get nothing." + +"He will think better of it. And you might manage something with those +deeds. Of course he should have them sooner or later, but they might be +surrendered as the price of his giving her up. I should say it might be +managed." + +All this was not comfortable for Madame Zamenoy; and she fretted and +fumed till her husband had no peace in his house, and Ziska almost +wished that he might hear no more of the Jew and his betrothal. She +could not even commence her system of persecution, as Nina did not go +near her, and had already told Lotta Luxa that she must decline to +discuss the question of her marriage any further. So, at last, Madame +Zamenoy found herself obliged to go over in person to the house in the +Kleinseite. Such visits had for many years been very rare with her. +Since her sister's death and the days in which the Balatkas had been +prosperous, she had preferred that all intercourse between the two +families should take place at her own house; and thus, as Josef Balatka +himself rarely left his own door, she had not seen him for more than +two years. Frequent intercourse, however, had been maintained, and aunt +Sophie knew very well how things were going on in the Kleinseite. Lotta +had no compunctions as to visiting the house, and Lotta's eyes were +very sharp. And Nina had been frequently in the Windberg-gasse, having +hitherto believed it to be her duty to attend to her aunt's behests. +But Nina was no longer obedient, and Madame Zamenoy was compelled to +go herself to her brother-in-law, unless she was disposed to leave the +Balatkas absolutely to their fate. Let her do what she would, Nina must +be her niece, and therefore she would yet make a struggle. + +On this occasion Madame Zamenoy walked on foot, thinking that her +carriage and horses might be too conspicuous at the arched gate in +the little square. The carriage did not often make its way over the +bridge into the Kleinseite, being used chiefly among the suburbs of the +New Town, where it was now well known and quickly recognised; and she +did not think that this was a good opportunity for breaking into new +ground with her equipage. She summoned Lotta to attend her, and after +her one o'clock dinner took her umbrella in her hand and went forth. +She was a stout woman, probably not more than forty-five years of age, +but a little heavy, perhaps from too much indulgence with her carriage. +She walked slowly, therefore; and Lotta, who was nimble of foot and +quick in all her ways, thanked her stars that it did not suit her +mistress to walk often through the city. + +"How very long the bridge is, Lotta!" said Madame Zamenoy. + +"Not longer, ma'am, than it always has been," said Lotta, pertly. + +"Of course it is not longer than it always has been; I know that; but +still I say it is very long. Bridges are not so long in other places." + +"Not where the rivers are narrower," said Lotta. Madame Zamenoy trudged +on, finding that she could get no comfort from her servant, and at last +reached Balatka's door. Lotta, who was familiar with the place, entered +the house first, and her mistress followed her. Hanging about the broad +passage which communicated with all the rooms on the ground-floor, they +found Souchey, who told them that his master was in bed, and that Nina +was at work by his bedside. He was sent in to announce the grand +arrival, and when Madame Zamenoy entered the sitting-room Nina was +there to meet her. + +"Child," she said, "I have come to see your father." + +"Father is in bed, but you can come in," said Nina. + +"Of course I can go in," said Madame Zamenoy, "but before I go in let +me know this. Has he heard of the disgrace which you purpose to bring +upon him?" + +Nina drew herself up and made no answer; whereupon Lotta spoke. "The +old gentleman knows all about it, ma'am, as well as you do." + +"Lotta, let the child speak for herself. Nina, have you had the +audacity to tell your father--that which you told me?" + +"I have told him everything," said Nina; "will you come into his room?" +Then Madame Zamenoy lifted up the hem of her garment and stepped +proudly into the old man's chamber. + +By this time Balatka knew what was about to befall him, and was making +himself ready for the visit. He was well aware that he should be sorely +perplexed as to what he should say in the coming interview. He could +not speak lightly of such an evil as this marriage with a Jew; nor when +his sister-in-law should abuse the Jews could he dare to defend them. +But neither could he bring himself to say evil words of Nina, or to +hear evil words spoken of her without making some attempt to screen +her. It might be best, perhaps, to lie under the bed-clothes and say +nothing, if only his sister-in-law would allow him to lie there. "Am +I to come in with you, aunt Sophie?" said Nina. "Yes child," said the +aunt; "come and hear what I have to say to your father." So Nina +followed her aunt, and Lotta and Souchey were left in the sitting-room. + +"And how are you, Souchey?" said Lotta, with unusual kindness of tone. +"I suppose you are not so busy but you can stay with me a few minutes +while she is in there?" + +"There is not so much to do that I cannot spare the time," said +Souchey. + +"Nothing to do, I suppose, and less to get?" said Lotta. + +"That's about it, Lotta; but you wouldn't have had me leave them?" + +"A man has to look after himself in the world; but you were always +easy-minded, Souchey." + +"I don't know about being so easy-minded. I know what would make me +easy-minded enough." + +"You'll have to be servant to a Jew now." + +"No; I'll never be that." + +"I suppose he gives you something at odd times?" + +"Who? Trendellsohn? I never saw the colour of his money yet, and do not +wish to see it." + +"But he comes here--sometimes?" + +"Never, Lotta. I haven't seen Anton Trendellsohn within the doors these +six months." + +"But she goes to him?" + +"Yes; she goes to him." + +"That's worse--a deal worse." + +"I told her how it was when I saw her trotting off so often to the +Jews' quarter. 'You see too much of Anton Trendellsohn,' I said to her; +but it didn't do any good." + +"You should have come to us, and have told us." + +"What, Madame there? I could never have brought myself to that; she is +so upsetting, Lotta." + +"She is upsetting, no doubt; but she don't upset me. Why didn't you +tell me, Souchey?" + +"Well, I thought that if I said a word to her, perhaps that would be +enough. Who could believe that she would throw herself at once into a +Jew's arms--such a fellow as Anton Trendellsohn, too, old enough to be +her father, and she the bonniest girl in all Prague?" + +"Handsome is that handsome does, Souchey." + +"I say she's the sweetest girl in all Prague; and more's the pity she +should have taken such a fancy as this." + +"She mustn't marry him, of course, Souchey." + +"Not if it can be helped, Lotta." + +"It must be helped. You and I must help it, if no one else can do so." + +"That's easy said, Lotta." + +"We can do it, if we are minded--that is, if you are minded. Only think +what a thing it would be for her to be the wife of a Jew! Think of her +soul, Souchey!" + +Souchey shuddered. He did not like being told of people's souls, +feeling probably that the misfortunes of this world were quite +heavy enough for a poor wight like himself, without any addition in +anticipation of futurity. "Think of her soul, Souchey," repeated Lotta, +who was at all points a good churchwoman. + +"It's bad enough any way," said Souchey. + +"And there's our Ziska would take her to-morrow in spite of the Jew." + +"Would he now?" + +"That he would, without anything but what she stands up in. And he'd +behave very handsome to anyone that would help him." + +"He'd be the first of his name that ever did, then. I have known the +time when old Balatka there, poor as he is now, would give a florin +when Karil Zamenoy begrudged six kreutzers." + +"And what has come of such giving? Josef Balatka is poor, and Karil +Zamenoy bids fair to be as rich as any merchant in Prague. But no +matter about that. Will you give a helping hand? There is nothing I +wouldn't do for you, Souchey, if we could manage this between us." + +"Would you now?" And Souchey drew near, as though some closer bargain +might be practicable between them. + +"I would indeed; but, Souchey, talking won't do it." + +"What will do it?" + +Lotta paused a moment, looking round the room carefully, till suddenly +her eyes fell on a certain article which lay on Nina's work-table. +"What am I to do?" said Souchey, anxious to be at work with the +prospect of so great a reward. + +"Never mind," said Lotta, whose tone of voice was suddenly changed. +"Never mind it now at least. And, Souchey, I think you'd better +go to your work. We've been gossiping here ever so long." + +"Perhaps five minutes; and what does it signify?" + +"She'd think it so odd to find us here together in the parlour." + +"Not odd at all." + +"Just as though we'd been listening to what they'd been saying. Go +now, Souchey--there's a good fellow; and I'll come again the day after +to-morrow and tell you. Go, I say. There are things that I must think +of by myself." And in this way she got Souchey to leave the room. + +"Josef," said Madame Zamenoy, as she took her place standing by +Balatka's bedside--"Josef, this is very terrible." Nina also was +standing close by her father's head, with her hand upon her father's +pillow. Balatka groaned, but made no immediate answer. + +"It is terrible, horrible, abominable, and damnable," said Madame +Zamenoy, bringing out one epithet after the other with renewed energy. +Balatka groaned again. What could he say in reply to such an address? + +"Aunt Sophie," said Nina, "do not speak to father like that. He is +ill." + +"Child," said Madame Zamenoy, "I shall speak as I please. I shall speak +as my duty bids me speak. Josef, this that I hear is very terrible. It +is hardly to be believed that any Christian girl should think of +marrying--a Jew." + +"What can I do?" said the father. "How can I prevent her?" + +"How can you prevent her, Josef? Is she not your daughter? Does she +mean to say, standing there, that she will not obey her father? Tell +me. Nina, will you or will you not obey your father?" + +"That is his affair, aunt Sophie; not yours." + +"His affair! It is his affair, and my affair, and all our affairs. +Impudent girl!--brazen-faced, impudent, bad girl! Do you not know that +you would bring disgrace upon us all?" + +"You are thinking about yourself, aunt Sophie; and I must think for +myself." + +"You do not regard your father, then?" + +"Yes, I do regard my father. He knows that I regard him. Father, is it +true that I do not regard you?" + +"She is a good daughter," said the father. + +"A good daughter, and talk of marrying a Jew!" said Madame Zamenoy. +"Has she your permission for such a marriage? Tell me that at once, +Josef, that I may know. Has she your sanction for--for--for this +accursed abomination?" Then there was silence in the room for a few +moments. "You can at any rate answer a plain question, Josef," +continued Madame Zamenoy. "Has Nina your leave to betroth herself to +the Jew, Trendellsohn?" + +"No, I have not got his leave," said Nina. + +"I am speaking to your father, miss," said the enraged aunt. + +"Yes; you are speaking very roughly to father, and he is ill. Therefore +I answer for him." + +"And has he not forbidden you to think of marrying this Jew?" + +"No, he has not," said Nina. + +"Josef, answer for yourself like a man," said Madame Zamenoy. "Have you +not forbidden this marriage? Do you not forbid it now? Let me at any +rate hear you say that you have forbidden it." But Balatka found +silence to be his easiest course, and answered not at all. "What am I +to think of this?" continued Madame Zamenoy. "It cannot be that you +wish your child to be the wife of a Jew!" + +"You are to think, aunt Sophie, that father is ill, and that he cannot +stand against your violence." + +"Violence, you wicked girl! It is you that are violent." + +"Will you come out into the parlour, aunt?" + +"No, I will not come out into the parlour. I will not stir from +this spot till I have told your father all that I think about it. +Ill, indeed! What matters illness when it is a question of eternal +damnation!" Madame Zamenoy put so much stress upon the latter word +that her brother-in-law almost jumped from under the bed-clothes. Nina +raised herself, as she was standing, to her full height, and a smile of +derision came upon her face. "Oh, yes! I daresay you do not mind it," +said Madame Zamenoy. "I daresay you can laugh now at all the pains of +hell. Castaways such as you are always blind to their own danger; but +your father, I hope, has not fallen so far as to care nothing for his +religion, though he seems to have forgotten what is due to his family." + +"I have forgotten nothing," said old Balatka. + +"Why then do you not forbid her to do this thing?" demanded Madame +Zamenoy. But the old man had recognised too well the comparative +security of silence to be drawn into argument, and therefore merely hid +himself more completely among the clothes. "Am I to get no answer from +you, Josef?" said Madame Zamenoy. No answer came, and therefore she was +driven to turn again upon Nina. + +"Why are you doing this thing, you poor deluded creature? Is it the +man's money that tempts you?" + +"It is not the man's money. If money could tempt me, I could have it +elsewhere, as you know." + +"It cannot be love for such a man as that. Do you not know that he and +his father between them have robbed your father of everything?" + +"I know nothing of the kind." + +"They have; and he is now making a fool of you in order that he may get +whatever remains." + +"Nothing remains. He will get nothing." + +"Nor will you. I do not believe that after all he will ever marry you. +He will not be such a fool." + +"Perhaps not, aunt; and in that case you will have your wish." + +"But no one can ever speak to you again after such a condition. Do you +think that I or your uncle could have you at our house when all the +world shall know that you have been jilted by a Jew?" + +"I will not trouble you by going to your house." + +"And is that all the satisfaction I am to have?" + +"What do you want me to say?" + +"I want you to say that you will give this man up, and return to your +duty as a Christian." + +"I will never give him up--never. I would sooner die." + +"Very well. Then I shall know how to act. You will not be a bit nearer +marrying him; I can promise you that. You are mistaken if you think +that in such a matter as this a girl like you can do just as she +pleases." Then she turned again upon the poor man in bed. "Josef +Balatka, I am ashamed of you. I am indeed--I am ashamed of you." + +"Aunt Sophie," said Nina, "now that you are here, you can say what you +please to me; but you might as well spare father." + +"I will not spare him. I am ashamed of him--thoroughly ashamed of him. +What can I think of him when he will lie there and not say a word to +save his daughter from the machinations of a filthy Jew?" + +"Anton Trendellsohn is not a filthy Jew." + +"He is a robber. He has cheated your father out of everything." + +"He is no robber. He has cheated no one. I know who has cheated father, +if you come to that." + +"Whom do you mean, hussey?" + +"I shall not answer you; but you need not tell me any more about the +Jews cheating us. Christians can cheat as well as Jews, and can rob +from their own flesh and blood too. I do not care for your threats, +aunt Sophie, nor for your frowns. I did care for them, but you have +said that which makes it impossible that I should regard them any +further." + +"And this is what I get for all my trouble--for all your uncle's +generosity!" Again Nina smiled. "But I suppose the Jew gives more than +we have given, and therefore is preferred. You poor creature--poor +wretched creature!" + +During all this time Balatka remained silent; and at last, after very +much more scolding, in which Madame Zamenoy urged again and again the +terrible threat of eternal punishment, she prepared herself for going. +"Lotta Luxa," she said, "--where is Lotta Luxa?" She opened the door, +and found Lotta Luxa seated demurely by the window. "Lotta," she said, +"I shall go now, and shall never come back to this unfortunate house. +You hear what I say; I shall never return here. As she makes her bed, +so must she lie on it. It is her own doing, and no one can save her. +For my part, I think that the Jew has bewitched her." + +"Like enough," said Lotta. + +"When once we stray from the Holy Church, there is no knowing what +terrible evils may come upon us," said Madame Zamenoy. + +"No indeed, ma'am," said Lotta Luxa. + +"But I have done all in my power." + +"That you have, ma'am." + +"I feel quite sure, Lotta, that the Jew will never marry her. Why +should a man like that, who loves money better than his soul, marry a +girl who has not a kreutzer to bless herself?" + +"Why indeed, ma'am! It's my mind that he don't think of marrying her." + +"And, Jew as he is, he cares for his religion. He will not bring +trouble upon everybody belonging to him by taking a Christian for his +wife." + +"That he will not, ma'am, you may be sure," said Lotta. + +"And where will she be then? Only fancy, Lotta--to have been jilted by +a Jew!" Then Madame Zamenoy, without addressing herself directly to +Nina, walked out of the room; but as she did so she paused in the +doorway, and again spoke to Lotta. "To be jilted by a Jew, Lotta! Think +of that." + +"I should drown myself," said Lotta Luxa. And then they both were gone. + +The idea that the Jew might jilt her disturbed Nina more than all her +aunt's anger, or than any threats as to the penalties she might have +to encounter in the next world. She felt a certain delight, an inward +satisfaction, in giving up everything for her Jew lover--a satisfaction +which was the more intense, the more absolute was the rejection and the +more crushing the scorn which she encountered on his behalf from her +own people. But to encounter this rejection and scorn, and then to be +thrown over by the Jew, was more than she could endure. And would it, +could it, be so? She sat down to think of it; and as she thought of it +terrible fears came upon her. Old Trendellsohn had told her that such a +marriage on his son's part would bring him into great trouble; and old +Trendellsohn was not harsh with her as her aunt was harsh. The old +man, in his own communications with her, had always been kind and +forbearing. And then Anton himself was severe to her. Though he would +now and again say some dear, well-to-be-remembered happy word, as when +he told her that she was his sun, and that he looked to her for warmth +and light, such soft speakings were few with him and far between. +And then he never mentioned any time as the probable date of their +marriage. If only a time could be fixed, let it be ever so distant, +Nina thought that she could still endure all the cutting taunts of her +enemies. But what would she do if Anton were to announce to her some +day that he found himself, as a Jew, unable to marry with her as a +Christian? In such a case she thought that she must drown herself, as +Lotta had suggested to her. + +As she sat thinking of this, her eyes suddenly fell upon the one key +which she herself possessed, and which, with a woman's acuteness of +memory, she perceived to have been moved from the spot on which she had +left it. It was the key of the little desk which stood in the corner of +the parlour, and in which, on the top of all the papers, was deposited +the necklace with which she intended to relieve the immediate +necessities of their household. She at once remembered that Lotta +had been left for a long time in the room, and with anxious, quick +suspicion she went to the desk. But her suspicions had wronged Lotta. +There, lying on a bundle of letters, was the necklace, in the exact +position in which she had left it. She kissed the trinket, which had +come to her from her mother, replaced it carefully, and put the key +into her pocket. + +What should she do next? How should she conduct herself in her present +circumstances? Her heart prompted her to go off at once to Anton +Trendellsohn and tell him everything; but she greatly feared that Anton +would not be glad to see her. She knew that it was not well that a girl +should run after her lover; but yet how was she to live without seeing +him? What other comfort had she? and from whom else could she look for +guidance? She declared to herself at last that she, in her position, +would not be stayed by ordinary feelings of maiden reserve. She would +tell him everything, even to the threat on which her aunt had so much +depended, and would then ask him for his counsel. She would describe +to him, if words from her could describe them, all her difficulties, +and would promise to be guided by him absolutely in everything. +"Everything," she would say to him, "I have given up for you. I am +yours entirely, body and soul. Do with me as you will." If he should +then tell her that he would not have her, that he did not want the +sacrifice, she would go away from him--and drown herself. But she would +not go to him to-day--no, not to-day; not perhaps to-morrow. It was +but a day or two as yet since she had been over at the Trendellsohns' +house, and though on that occasion she had not seen Anton, Anton of +course would know that she had been there. She did not wish him to +think that she was hunting him. She would wait yet two or three days-- +till the next Sunday morning perhaps--and then she would go again to +the Jews' quarter. On the Christian Sabbath Anton was always at home, +as on that day business is suspended in Prague both for Christian and +Jew. + +Then she went back to her father. He was still lying with his face +turned to the wall, and Nina, thinking that he slept, took up her work +and sat by his side. But he was awake, and watching. "Is she gone?" he +said, before her needle had been plied a dozen times. + +"Aunt Sophie? Yes, father, she has gone." + +"I hope she will not come again." + +"She says that she will never come again." + +"What is the use of her coming here? We are lost and are perishing. We +are utterly gone. She will not help us, and why should she disturb us +with her curses?" + +"Father, there may be better days for us yet." + +"How can there be better days when you are bringing down the Jew upon +us? Better days for yourself, perhaps, if mere eating and drinking will +serve you." + +"Oh, father!" + +"Have you not ruined everything with your Jew lover? Did you not hear +how I was treated? What could I say to your aunt when she stood there +and reviled us?" + +"Father, I was so grateful to you for saying nothing!" + +"But I knew that she was right. A Christian should not marry a Jew. She +said it was abominable; and so it is." + +"Father, father, do not speak like that! I thought that you had +forgiven me. You said to aunt Sophie that I was a good daughter. Will +you not say the same to me--to me myself?" + +"It is not good to love a Jew." + +"I do love him, father. How can I help it now? I cannot change my +heart." + +"I suppose I shall be dead soon," said old Balatka, "and then it will +not matter. You will become one of them, and I shall be forgotten." + +"Father, have I ever forgotten you?" said Nina, throwing herself upon +him on his bed. "Have I not always loved you? Have I not been good to +you? Oh, father, we have been true to each other through it all. Do not +speak to me like that at last." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Anton Trendellsohn had learned from his father that Nina had spoken to +her aunt about the title-deeds of the houses in the Kleinseite, and +that thus, in a roundabout way, a demand had been made for them. "Of +course, they will not give them up," he had said to his father. "Why +should they, unless the law makes them? They have no idea of honour or +honesty to one of us." The elder Jew had then expressed his opinion +that Josef Balatka should be required to make the demand as a matter of +business, to enforce a legal right; but to this Anton had replied that +the old man in the Kleinseite was not in a condition to act efficiently +in the matter himself. It was to him that the money had been advanced, +but to the Zamenoys that it had in truth been paid; and Anton declared +his purpose of going to Karil Zamenoy and himself making his demand. +And then there had been a discussion, almost amounting to a quarrel, +between the two Trendellsohns as to Nina Balatka. Poor Nina need not +have added another to her many causes of suffering by doubting her +lover's truth. Anton Trendellsohn, though not given to speak of his +love with that demonstrative vehemence to which Nina had trusted in her +attempts to make her friends understand that she could not be talked +out of her engagement, was nevertheless sufficiently firm in his +purpose. He was a man very constant in all his purposes, whom none +who knew him would have supposed likely to jeopardise his worldly +interests for the love of a Christian girl, but who was very little +apt to abandon aught to which he had set his hand because the voices +of those around him might be against him. He had thought much of his +position as a Jew before he had spoken of love to the penniless +Christian maiden who frequented his father's house, pleading for her +father in his poverty; but the words when spoken meant much, and Nina +need not have feared that he would forget them. He was a man not much +given to dalliance, not requiring from day to day the soft sweetness of +a woman's presence to keep his love warm; but his love could maintain +its own heat, without any softness or dalliance. Had it not been so, +such a girl as Nina would hardly have surrendered to him her whole +heart as she had done. + +"You will fall into trouble about the maiden," the elder Trendellsohn +had said. + +"True, father; there will be trouble enough. In what that we do is +there not trouble?" + +"A man in the business of his life must encounter labour and grief and +disappointment. He should take to him a wife to give him ease in these +things, not one who will be an increase to his sorrows." + +"That which is done is done." + +"My son, this thing is not done." + +"She has my plighted word, father. Is not that enough?" + +"Nina is a good girl. I will say for her that she is very good. I have +wished that you might have brought to my house as your wife the child +of my old friend Baltazar Loth; but if that may not be, I would have +taken Nina willingly by the hand--had she been one of us." + +"It may be that God will open her eyes." + +"Anton, I would not have her eyes opened by anything so weak as her +love for a man. But I have said that she was good. She will hear +reason; and when she shall know that her marriage among us would bring +trouble on us, she will restrain her wishes. Speak to her, Anton, and +see if it be not so." + +"Not for all the wealth which all our people own in Bohemia! Father, to +do so would be to demand, not to ask. If she love me, could she refuse +such a request were I to ask it?" + +"I will speak a word to Nina, my son, and the request shall come from +her." + +"And if it does, I will never yield to it. For her sake I would not +yield, for I know she loves me. Neither for my own would I yield; for +as truly as I worship God, I love her better than all the world beside. +She is to me my cup of water when I am hot and athirst, my morsel of +bread when I am faint with hunger. Her voice is the only music which I +love. The touch of her hand is so fresh that it cools me when I am in +fever. The kiss of her lips is so sweet and balmy that it cures when +I shake with an ague fit. To think of her when I am out among men +fighting for my own, is such a joy, that now, methinks now, that I have +had it belonging to me, I could no longer fight were I to lose it. No. +father; she shall not be taken from me. I love her, and I will keep +her." + +Oh that Nina could have heard him! How would all her sorrows have fled +from her, and left her happy in her poverty! But Anton Trendellsohn, +though he could speak after this manner to his father, could hardly +bring himself to talk of his feelings to the woman who would have given +her eyes, could she for his sake have spared them, to hear him. Now and +again, indeed, he would say a word, and then would frown and become +gloomy, as though angry with himself for such outward womanly +expression of what he felt. As it was, the words fell upon ears which +they delighted not. "Then, my son, you will live to rue the day in +which you first saw her," said the elder Jew. "She will be a bone of +contention in your way that will separate you from all your friends. +You will become neither Jew nor Christian, and will be odious alike to +both. And she will be the same." + +"Then, father, we will bear our sorrows together." + +"Yes; and what happens when sorrows come from such causes? The man +learns to hate the woman who has caused them, and ill-uses her, and +feels himself to be a Cain upon the earth, condemned by all, but by +none so much as by himself. Do you think that you have strength to bear +the contempt of all those around you?" + +Anton waited a moment or two before he answered, and then spoke very +slowly. "If it be necessary to bear so much, I will at least make the +effort. It may be that I shall find the strength." + +"Nothing then that your father says to you avails aught?" + +"Nothing, father, on that matter. You should have spoken sooner." + +"Then you must go your own way. As for me, I must look for another son +to bear the burden of my years." And so they parted. + +Anton Trendellsohn understood well the meaning of the old man's threat. +He was quite alive to the fact that his father had expressed his +intention to give his wealth and his standing in trade and the business +of his house to some younger Jew, who would be more true than his own +son to the traditional customs of their tribes. There was Ruth Jacobi, +his granddaughter--the only child of the house--who had already reached +an age at which she might be betrothed; and there was Samuel Loth, +the son of Baltazar Loth, old Trendellsohn's oldest friend. Anton +Trendellsohn did not doubt who might be the adopted child to be taken +to fill his place. It has been already explained that there was no +partnership actually existing between the two Trendellsohns. By degrees +the son had slipt into the father's place, and the business by which +the house had grown rich had for the last five or six years been +managed chiefly by him. But the actual results of the son's industry +and the son's thrift were still in the possession of the father. The +old man might no doubt go far towards ruining his son if he were so +minded. + +Dreams of a high ambition had, from very early years, flitted across +the mind of the younger Trendellsohn till they had nearly formed +themselves into a settled purpose. He had heard of Jews in Vienna, in +Paris, and in London, who were as true to their religion as any Jew of +Prague, but who did not live immured in a Jews' quarter, like lepers +separate and alone in some loathed corner of a city otherwise clean. +These men went abroad into the world as men, using the wealth with +which their industry had been blessed, openly as the Christians used +it. And they lived among Christians as one man should live with his +fellow-men--on equal terms, giving and taking, honouring and honoured. +As yet it was not so with the Jews of Prague, who were still bound to +their old narrow streets, to their dark houses, to their mean modes +of living, and who, worst of all, were still subject to the isolated +ignominy of Judaism. In Prague a Jew was still a Pariah. Anton's father +was rich--very rich. Anton hardly knew what was the extent of his +father's wealth, but he did know that it was great. In his father's +time, however, no change could be made. He did not scruple to speak to +the old man of these things; but he spoke of them rather as dreams, or +as distant hopes, than as being the basis of any purpose of his own. +His father would merely say that the old house, looking out upon the +ancient synagogue, must last him his time, and that the changes of +which Anton spoke must be postponed--not till he died--but till such +time as he should feel it right to give up the things of this world. +Anton Trendellsohn, who knew his father well, had resolved that he +would wait patiently for everything till his father should have gone to +his last home, knowing that nothing but death would close the old man's +interest in the work of his life. But he had been content to wait--to +wait, to think, to dream, and only in part to hope. He still communed +with himself daily as to that House of Trendellsohn which might, +perhaps, be heard of in cities greater than Prague, and which might +rival in the grandeur of its wealth those mighty commercial names which +had drowned the old shame of the Jew in the new glory of their great +doings. To be a Jew in London, they had told him, was almost better +than to be a Christian, provided that he was rich, and knew the ways +of trade--was better for such purposes as were his purposes. Anton +Trendellsohn believed that he would be rich, and was sure that he knew +the ways of trade; and therefore he nursed his ambition, and meditated +what his action should be when the days of his freedom should come to +him. + +Then Nina Balatka had come across his path. To be a Jew, always a Jew, +in all things a Jew, had been ever a part of his great dream. It was as +impossible to him as it would be to his father to forswear the religion +of his people. To go forth and be great in commerce by deserting his +creed would have been nothing to him. His ambition did not desire +wealth so much as the possession of wealth in Jewish hands, without +those restrictions upon its enjoyment to which Jews under his own eye +had ever been subjected. It would have delighted him to think that, by +means of his work, there should no longer be a Jews' quarter in Prague, +but that all Prague should be ennobled and civilised and made beautiful +by the wealth of Jews. Wealth must be his means, and therefore he was +greedy; but wealth was not his last or only aim, and therefore his +greed did not utterly destroy his heart. Then Nina Balatka had come +across his path, and he was compelled to shape his dreams anew. How +could a Jew among Jews hold up his head as such who had taken to his +bosom a Christian wife? + +But again he shaped his dreams aright--so far aright that he could +still build the castles of his imagination to his own liking. Nina +should be his wife. It might be that she would follow the creed of her +husband, and then all would be well. In those far cities to which he +would go, it would hardly in such case be known that she had been born +a Christian; or else he would show the world around him, both Jews and +Christians, how well a Christian and a Jew might live together. To +crush the prejudice which had dealt so hardly with his people--to make +a Jew equal in all things to a Christian--this was his desire; and how +could this better be fulfilled than by his union with a Christian? One +thing at least was fixed with him--one thing was fixed, even though it +should mar his dreams. He had taken the Christian girl to be part of +himself, and nothing should separate them. His father had spoken often +to him of the danger which he would incur by marrying a Christian, but +had never before uttered any word approaching to a personal threat. +Anton had felt himself to be so completely the mainspring of the +business in which they were both engaged--was so perfectly aware that +he was so regarded by all the commercial men of Prague--that he had +hardly regarded the absence of any positive possession in his father's +wealth as detrimental to him. He had been willing that it should be his +father's while his father lived, knowing that any division would be +detrimental to them both. He had never even asked his father for a +partnership, taking everything for granted. Even now he could not quite +believe that his father was in earnest. It could hardly be possible +that the work of his own hands should be taken from him because he had +chosen a bride for himself! But this he felt, that should his father +persevere in the intention which he had expressed, he would be upheld +in it by every Jew of Prague. "Dark, ignorant, and foolish," Anton said +to himself, speaking of those among whom he lived; "it is their pride +to live in disgrace, while all the honours of the world are open to +them if they chose to take them!" + +He did not for a moment think of altering his course of action in +consequence of what his father had said to him. Indeed, as regarded the +business of the house, it would stand still altogether were he to alter +it. No successor could take up the work when he should leave it. No +other hand could continue the webs which were of his weaving. So he +went forth, as the errands of the day called him, soon after his +father's last words were spoken, and went through his work as though +his own interest in it were in no danger. + +On that evening nothing was said on the subject between him and his +father, and on the next morning he started immediately after breakfast +for the Ross Markt, in order that he might see Karil Zamenoy, as he had +said that he would do. The papers, should he get them, would belong to +his father, and would at once be put into his father's hands. But the +feeling that it might not be for his own personal advantage to place +them there did not deter him. His father was an old man, and old men +were given to threaten. He at least would go on with his duty. + +It was about eleven o'clock in the day when he entered the open door of +the office in the Ross Markt, and found Ziska and a young clerk sitting +opposite to each other at their desks. Anton took off his hat and bowed +to Ziska, whom he knew slightly, and asked the young man if his father +were within. + +"My father is here," said Ziska, "but I do not know whether he can see +you." + +"You will ask him, perhaps," said Trendellsohn. + +"Well, he is engaged. There is a lady with him." + +"Perhaps he will make an appointment with me, and I will call again. If +he will name an hour, I will come at his own time." + +"Cannot you say to me, Herr Trendellsohn, that which you wish to say to +him?" + +"Not very well." + +"You know that I am in partnership with my father." + +"He and you are happy to be so placed together. But if your father can +spare me five minutes, I will take it from him as a favour." + +Then, with apparent reluctance, Ziska came down from his seat and went +into the inner room. There he remained some time, while Trendellsohn +was standing, hat in hand, in the outer office. If the changes which +he hoped to effect among his brethren could be made, a Jew in Prague +should, before long, be asked to sit down as readily as a Christian. +But he had not been asked to sit, and he therefore stood holding his +hat in his hand during the ten minutes that Ziska was away. At last +young Zamenoy returned, and, opening the door, signified to the Jew +that his father would see him at once if he would enter. Nothing more +had been said about the lady, and there, when Trendellsohn went into +the room, he found the lady, who was no other than Madame Zamenoy +herself. A little family council had been held, and it had been settled +among them that the Jew should be seen and heard. + +"So, sir, you are Anton Trendellsohn," began Madame Zamenoy, as soon as +Ziska was gone--for Ziska had been told to go--and the door was shut. + +"Yes, madame; I am Anton Trendellsohn. I had not expected the honour of +seeing you, but I wish to say a few words on business to your husband." + +"There he is; you can speak to him." + +"Anything that I can do, I shall be very happy," said Karil Zamenoy, +who had risen from his chair to prevent the necessity of having to ask +the Jew to sit down. + +"Herr Zamenoy," began the Jew, "you are, I think, aware that my father +has purchased from your friend and brother-in-law, Josef Balatka, +certain houses in the Kleinseite, in one of which the old man still +lives." + +"Upon my word, I know nothing about it," said Zamenoy--"nothing, that +is to say, in the way of business;" and the man of business laughed. +"Mind I do not at all deny that you did so--you or your father, or the +two together. Your people are getting into their hands lots of houses +all over the town; but how they do it nobody knows. They are not bought +in fair open market." + +"This purchase was made by contract, and the price was paid in full +before the houses were put into our hands." + +"They are not in your hands now, as far as I know." + +"Not the one, certainly, in which Balatka lives. Motives of +friendship--" + +"Friendship!" said Madame Zamenoy, with a sneer. + +"And now motives of love," continued Anton, "have induced us to leave +the use of that house with Josef Balatka." + +"Love!" said Madame Zamenoy, springing from her chair; love indeed! "Do +not talk to me of love for a Jew." + +"My dear, my dear!" said her husband, expostulating. + +"How dares he come here to talk of his love? It is filthy--it is worse +than filthy--it is profane." + +"I came here, madame," continued Anton, "not to talk of my love, but of +certain documents or title-deeds respecting those houses, which should +be at present in my father's custody. I am told that your husband has +them in his safe custody." + +"My husband has them not," said Madame Zamenoy. + +"Stop, my dear--stop," said the husband. + +"Not that he would be bound to give them up to you if he had got them, +or that he would do so; but he has them not." + +"In whose hands are they then?" + +"That is for you to find out, not for us to tell you." + +"Why should not all the world be told, so that the proper owner may +have his own?" + +"It is not always so easy to find out who is the proper owner," said +Zamenoy the elder. + +"You have seen this contract before, I think, said Trendellsohn, +bringing forth a written paper. + +"I will not look at it now at any rate. I have nothing to do with it, +and I will have nothing to do with it. You have heard Madame Zamenoy +declare that the deed which you seek is not here. I cannot say whether +it is here or no. I do not say--as you will be pleased to remember. If +it were here it would be in safe keeping for my brother-in-law, and +only to him could it be given." + +"But will you not say whether it is in your hands? You know well that +Josef Balatka is ill, and cannot attend to such matters." + +"And who has made him ill, and what has made him ill?" said Madame +Zamenoy. "Ill! of course he is ill. Is it not enough to make any man +ill to be told that his daughter is to marry a Jew?" + +"I have not come hither to speak of that," said Trendellsohn. + +"But I speak of it; and I tell you this, Anton Trendellsohn--you shall +never marry that girl." + +"Be it so; but let me at any rate have that which is my own." + +"Will you give her up if it is given to you?" + +"It is here then?" + +"No; it is not here. But will you abandon this mad thought if I tell +you where it is?" + +"No; certainly not." + +"What a fool the man is!" said Madame Zamenoy. "He comes to us for what +he calls his property because he wants to marry the girl, and she is +deceiving him all the while. Go to Nina Balatka, Trendellsohn, and she +will tell you who has the document. She will tell you where it is, if +it suits her to do so." + +"She has told me, and she knows that it is here." + +"She knows nothing of the kind, and she has lied. She has lied in order +that she may rob you. Jew as you are, she will be too many for you. She +will rob you, with all her seeming simplicity." + +"I trust her as I do my own soul," said Trendellsohn. + +"Very well; I tell you that she, and she only, knows where these +papers are. For aught I know, she has them herself. I believe that she +has them. Ziska," said Madame Zamenoy, calling aloud--"Ziska, come +hither;" and Ziska entered the room. "Ziska, who has the title-deeds +of your uncle's houses in the Kleinseite?" Ziska hesitated a moment +without answering. "You know, if anybody does," said his mother; "tell +this man, since he is so anxious, who has got them." + +"I do not know why I should tell him my cousin's secrets." + +"Tell him, I say. It is well that he should know." + +"Nina has them, as I believe," said Ziska, still hesitating. + +"Nina has them!" said Trendellsohn. + +"Yes; Nina Balatka," said Madame Zamenoy. "We tell you, to the best of +our knowledge at least. At any rate, they are not here." + +"It is impossible that Nina should have them," said Trendellsohn. "How +should she have got them?" + +"That is nothing to us," said Madame Zamenoy. "The whole thing is +nothing to us. You have heard all that we can tell you, and you had +better go." + +"You have heard more than I would have told you myself," said Ziska, +"had I been left to my opinion." + +Trendellsohn stood pausing for a moment, and then he turned to the +elder Zamenoy. "What do you say, sir? Is it true that these papers are +at the house in the Kleinseite?" + +"I say nothing," said Karil Zamenoy. "It seems to me that too much has +been said already." + +"A great deal too much," said the lady. "I do not know why I should +have allowed myself to be surprised into giving you any information at +all. You wish to do us the heaviest injury that one man can do another, +and I do not know why we should speak to you at all. Now you had better +go." + +"Yes; you had better go," said Ziska, holding the door open, and +looking as though he were inclined to threaten. Trendellsohn paused +for a moment on the threshold, fixing his eyes full upon those of his +rival; but Ziska neither spoke nor made any further gesture, and then +the Jew left the house. + +"I would have told him nothing," said the elder Zamenoy when they were +left alone. + +"My dear, you don't understand; indeed you do not," said his wife. "No +stone should be left unturned to prevent such a horrid marriage as +this. There is nothing I would not say--nothing I would not do." + +"But I do not see that you are doing anything." + +"Leave this little thing to me, my dear--to me and Ziska. It is +impossible that you should do everything yourself. In such a matter as +this, believe me that a woman is best." + +"But I hate anything that is really dishonest." + +"There shall be no dishonesty--none in the world. You don't suppose +that I want to get the dirty old tumble-down houses. God forbid! But +you would not give up everything to a Jew! Oh, I hate them! I do hate +them! Anything is fair against a Jew." If such was Madame Zamenoy's +ordinary doctrine, it may well be understood that she would scruple at +using no weapon against a Jew who was meditating so great an injury +against her as this marriage with her niece. After this little +discussion old Zamenoy said no more, and Madame Zamenoy went home to +the Windberg-gasse. + +Trendellsohn, as he walked homewards, was lost in amazement. He wholly +disbelieved the statement that the document he desired was in Nina's +hands, but he thought it possible that it might be in the house in +the Kleinseite. It was, after all, on the cards that old Balatka was +deceiving him. The Jew was by nature suspicious, though he was also +generous. He could be noble in his confidence, and at the same time +could become at a moment distrustful. He could give without grudging, +and yet grudge the benefits which came of his giving. Neither he +nor his father had ever positively known in whose custody were the +title-deeds which he was so anxious to get into his own hands. Balatka +had said that they must be with the Zamenoys, but even Balatka had never +spoken as of absolute knowledge. Nina, indeed, had declared positively +that they were in the Ross Markt, saying that Ziska had so stated in +direct terms; but there might be a mistake in this. At any rate he +would interrogate Nina, and if there were need, would not spare the old +man any questions that could lead to the truth. Trendellsohn, as he +thought of the possibility of such treachery on Balatka's part, felt +that, without compunction, he could be very cruel, even to an old man, +under such circumstances as those. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Madame Zamenoy and her son no doubt understood each other's purposes, +and there was another person in the house who understood them--Lotta +Luxa, namely; but Karil Zamenoy had been kept somewhat in the dark. +Touching that piece of parchment as to which so much anxiety had been +expressed, he only knew that he had, at his wife's instigation, given +it into her hand in order that she might use it in some way for putting +an end to the foul betrothal between Nina and the Jew. The elder +Zamenoy no doubt understood that Anton Trendellsohn was to be bought +off by the document; and he was not unwilling to buy him off so +cheaply, knowing as he did that the houses were in truth the Jew's +property; but Madame Zamenoy's scheme was deeper than this. She did +not believe that the Jew was to be bought off at so cheap a price; but +she did believe that it might be possible to create such a feeling in +his mind as would make him abandon Nina out of the workings of his own +heart. Ziska and his mother were equally anxious to save Nina from the +Jew, but not exactly with the same motives. He had received a promise, +both from his father and mother, before anything was known of the Jew's +love, that Nina should be received as a daughter-in-law, if she would +accept his suit; and this promise was still in force. That the girl +whom he loved should love a Jew distressed and disgusted Ziska; but it +did not deter him from his old purpose. It was shocking, very shocking, +that Nina should so disgrace herself; but she was not on that account +less pretty or less charming in her cousin's eyes. Madame Zamenoy, +could she have had her own will, would have rescued Nina from the Jew-- +firstly, because Nina was known all over Prague to be her niece--and, +secondly, for the good of Christianity generally; but the girl herself, +when rescued, she would willingly have left to starve in the poverty of +the old house in the Kleinseite, as a punishment for her sin in having +listened to a Jew. + +"I would have nothing more to say to her," said the mother to her son. + +"Nor I either," said Lotta, who was present. "She has demeaned herself +far too much to be a fit wife for Ziska." + +"Hold your tongue, Lotta; what business have you to speak about such a +matter?" said the young man. + +"All the same, Ziska, if I were you, I would give her up," said the +mother. + +"If you were me, mother, you would not give her up. If every man is to +give up the girl he likes because somebody else interferes with him, +how is anybody to get married at all? It's the way with them all." + +"But a Jew, Ziska!" + +"So much the more reason for taking her away from him." Then Ziska went +forth on a certain errand, the expediency of which he had discussed +with his mother. + +"I never thought he'd be so firm about it, ma'am," said Lotta to her +mistress. + +"If we could get Trendellsohn to turn her off, he would not think much +of her afterwards," said the mother. "He wouldn't care to take the +Jew's leavings." + +"But he seems to be so obstinate," said Lotta. "Indeed I did not think +there was so much obstinacy in him." + +"Of course he is obstinate while he thinks the other man is to have +her," said the mistress; "but all that will be changed when the girl is +alone in the world." + +It was a Saturday morning, and Ziska had gone out with a certain fixed +object. Much had been said between him and his mother since Anton +Trendellsohn's visit to the office, and it had been decided that he +should now go and see the Jew in his own home. He should see him and +speak him fair, and make him understand if possible that the whole +question of the property should be settled as he wished it--if he would +only give up his insane purpose of marrying a Christian girl. Ziska +would endeavour also to fill the Jew's mind with suspicion against +Nina. The former scheme was Ziska's own; the second was that in which +Ziska's mother put her chief trust. "If once he can be made to think +that the girl is deceiving him, he will quarrel with her utterly," +Madame Zamenoy had said. + +On Saturday there is but little business done in Prague, because +Saturday is the Sabbath of the Jews. The shops are of course open in +the main streets of the town, but banks and counting-houses are closed, +because the Jews will not do business on that day--so great is the +preponderance of the wealth of Prague in the hands of that people! It +suited Ziska, therefore, to make his visit on a Saturday, both because +he had but little himself to do on that day, and because he would be +almost sure to find Trendellsohn at home. As he made his way across the +bottom of the Kalowrat-strasse and through the centre of the city to +the narrow ways of the Jews' quarter, his heart somewhat misgave him as +to the result of his visit. He knew very well that a Christian was safe +among the Jews from any personal ill-usage; but he knew also that such +a one as he would be known personally to many of them as a Christian +rival, and probably as a Christian enemy in the same city, and he +thought that they would look at him askance. Living in Prague all his +life, he had hardly been above once or twice in the narrow streets +which he was now threading. Strangers who come to Prague visit the +Jews' quarter as a matter of course, and to such strangers the Jews of +Prague are invariably courteous. But the Christians of the city seldom +walk through the heart of the Jews' locality, or hang about the Jews' +synagogue, or are seen among their houses unless they have special +business. The Jews' quarter, though it is a banishment to the Jews from +the fairer portions of the city, is also a separate and somewhat sacred +castle in which they may live after their old fashion undisturbed. As +Ziska went on, he became aware that the throng of people was unusually +great, and that the day was in some sort more peculiar than the +ordinary Jewish Sabbath. That the young men and girls should be dressed +in their best clothes was, as a matter of course, incidental to the +day; but he could perceive that there was an outward appearance of gala +festivity about them which could not take place every week. The tall +bright-eyed black-haired girls stood talking in the streets, with +something of boldness in their gait and bearing, dressed many of them +in white muslin, with bright ribbons and full petticoats, and that +small bewitching Hungarian hat which they delight to wear. They stood +talking somewhat loudly to each other, or sat at the open windows; +while the young men in black frock-coats and black hats, with crimson +cravats, clustered by themselves, wishing, but not daring so early in +the day, to devote themselves to the girls, who appeared, or attempted +to appear, unaware of their presence. Who can say why it is that those +encounters, which are so ardently desired by both sides, are so rarely +able to get themselves commenced till the enemies have been long in +sight of each other? But so it is among Jews and Christians, among rich +and poor, out under the open sky, and even in the atmosphere of the +ball-room, consecrated though it be to such purposes. Go into any +public dancing-room of Vienna, where the girls from the shops and the +young men from their desks congregate to waltz and make love, and you +shall observe that from ten to twelve they will dance as vigorously as +at a later hour, but that they will hardly talk to each other till the +mellowness of the small morning hours has come upon them. + +Among these groups in the Jewish quarter Ziska made his way, conscious +that the girls eyed him and whispered to each other something as to +his presence, and conscious also that the young men eyed him also, +though they did so without speaking of him as he passed. He knew that +Trendellsohn lived close to the synagogue, and to the synagogue he made +his way. And as he approached the narrow door of the Jews' church, he +saw that a crowd of men stood round it, some in high caps and some in +black hats, but all habited in short muslin shirts, which they wore +over their coats. Such dresses he had seen before, and he knew that +these men were taking part from time to time in some service within +the synagogue. He did not dare to ask of one of them which was +Trendellsohn's house, but went on till he met an old man alone just at +the back of the building, dressed also in a high cap and shirt, which +shirt, however, was longer than those he had seen before. Plucking up +his courage, he asked of the old man which was the house of Anton +Trendellsohn. + +"Anton Trendellsohn has no house," said the old man; "but that is his +father's house, and there Anton Trendellsohn lives. I am Stephen +Trendellsohn, and Anton is my son." + +Ziska thanked him, and, crossing the street to the house, found that +the door was open, and that two girls were standing just within the +passage. The old man had gone, and Ziska, turning, had perceived that +he was out of sight before he reached the house. + +"I cannot come till my uncle returns," said the younger girl. + +"But, Ruth, he will be in the synagogue all day," said the elder, who +was that Rebecca Loth of whom the old Jew had spoken to his son. + +"Then all day I must remain," said Ruth; "but it may be he will be in +by one." Then Ziska addressed them, and asked if Anton Trendellsohn did +not live there. + +"Yes; he lives there," said Ruth, almost trembling, as she answered the +handsome stranger. + +"And is he at home?" + +"He is in the synagogue," said Ruth. "You will find him there if you +will go in." + +"But they are at worship there," said Ziska, doubtingly. + +"They will be at worship all day, because it is our festival," said +Rebecca, with her eyes fixed upon the ground; "but if you are a +Christian they will not object to your going in. They like that +Christians should see them. They are not ashamed." + +Ziska, looking into the girl's face, saw that she was very beautiful; +and he saw also at once that she was exactly the opposite of Nina, +though they were both of a height. Nina was fair, with grey eyes, and +smooth brown hair which seemed to demand no special admiration, though +it did in truth add greatly to the sweet delicacy of her face; and she +was soft in her gait, and appeared to be yielding and flexible in all +the motions of her body. You would think that if you were permitted to +embrace her, the outlines of her body would form themselves to yours, +as though she would in all things fit herself to him who might be +blessed by her love. But Rebecca Loth was dark, with large dark-blue +eyes and jet black tresses, which spoke out loud to the beholder of +their own loveliness. You could not fail to think of her hair and of +her eyes, as though they were things almost separate from herself. And +she stood like a queen, who knew herself to be all a queen, strong on +her limbs, wanting no support, somewhat hard withal, with a repellant +beauty that seemed to disdain while it courted admiration, and utterly +rejected the idea of that caressing assistance which men always love +to give, and which women often love to receive. At the present moment +she was dressed in a frock of white muslin, looped round the skirt, +and bright with ruby ribbons. She had on her feet coloured boots, +which fitted them to a marvel, and on her glossy hair a small new hat, +ornamented with the plumage of some strange bird. On her shoulders she +wore a coloured jacket, open down the front, sparkling with jewelled +buttons, over which there hung a chain with a locket. In her ears she +carried long heavy earrings of gold. Were it not that Ziska had seen +others as gay in their apparel on his way, he would have fancied that +she was tricked out for the playing of some special part, and that she +should hardly have shown herself in the streets with her gala finery. +Such was Rebecca Loth the Jewess, and Ziska almost admitted to himself +that she was more beautiful than Nina Balatka. + +"And are you also of the family?" Ziska asked. + +"No; she is not of the family," said Ruth. "She is my particular +friend, Rebecca Loth. She does not live here. She lives with her +brother and her mother." + +"Ruth, how foolish you are! What does it signify to the gentleman?" + +"But he asked, and so I supposed he wanted to know." + +"I have to apologise for intruding on you with any questions young +ladies," said Ziska; "especially on a day which seems to be solemn." + +"That does not matter at all," said Rebecca. "Here is my brother, +and he will take you into the synagogue if you wish to see Anton +Trendellsohn." Samuel Loth, her brother, then came up and readily +offered to take Ziska into the midst of the worshippers. Ziska would +have escaped now from the project could he have done so without remark; +but he was ashamed to seem afraid to enter the building, as the +girls seemed to make so light of his doing so. He therefore followed +Rebecca's brother, and in a minute or two was inside the narrow door. + +The door was very low and narrow, and seemed to be choked up by men +with short white surplices, but nevertheless he found himself inside, +jammed among a crowd of Jews; and a sound of many voices, going +together in a sing-song wail or dirge, met his ears. His first impulse +was to take off his hat, but that was immediately replaced upon his +head, he knew not by whom; and then he observed that all within the +building were covered. His guide did not follow him, but whispered to +some one what it was that the stranger required. He could see that +those inside the building were all clothed in muslin shirts of +different lengths, and that it was filled with men, all of whom had +before them some sort of desk, from which they were reading, or rather +wailing out their litany. Though this was the chief synagogue in +Prague, and, as being the so-called oldest in Europe, is a building +of some consequence in the Jewish world, it was very small. There was +no ceiling, and the high-pitched roof, which had once probably been +coloured, and the walls, which had once certainly been white, were +black with the dirt of ages. In the centre there was a cage, as it +were, or iron grille, within which five or six old Jews were placed, +who seemed to wail louder than the others. Round the walls there was +a row of men inside stationary desks, and outside them another row, +before each of whom there was a small movable standing desk, on which +there was a portion of the law of Moses. There seemed to be no possible +way by which Ziska could advance, and he would have been glad to +retreat had retreat been possible. But first one Jew and then another +moved their desks for him, so that he was forced to advance, and some +among them pointed to the spot where Anton Trendellsohn was standing. +But as they pointed, and as they moved their desks to make a pathway, +they still sang and wailed continuously, never ceasing for an instant +in their long, loud, melancholy song of prayer. At the further end +there seemed to be some altar, in front of which the High Priest wailed +louder than all, louder even than the old men within the cage; and even +he, the High Priest, was forced to move his desk to make way for Ziska. +But, apparently without displeasure, he moved it with his left hand, +while he swayed his right hand backwards and forwards as though +regulating the melody of the wail. Beyond the High Priest Ziska saw +Anton Trendellsohn, and close to the son he saw the old man whom he +had met in the street, and whom he recognised as Anton's father. Old +Trendellsohn seemed to take no notice of him, but Anton had watched him +from his entrance, and was prepared to speak to him, though he did not +discontinue his part in the dirge till the last moment. + +"I had a few words to say to you, if it would suit you," said Ziska, in +a low voice. + +"Are they of import?" Trendellsohn asked. "If so, I will come to you." + +Ziska then turned to make his way back, but he saw that this was not +to be his road for retreat. Behind him the movable phalanx had again +formed itself into close rank, but before him the wailing wearers of +the white shirts were preparing for the commotion of his passage by +grasping the upright stick of their movable desks in their hands. So he +passed on, making the entire round of the synagogue; and when he got +outside the crowded door, he found that the younger Trendellsohn had +followed him. "We had better go into the house," said Anton; "it will +not be well for us to talk here on any matter of business. Will you +follow me?" + +Then he led the way into the old house, and there at the front door +still stood the two girls talking to each other. + +"You have come back, uncle," said Ruth. + +"Yes; for a few moments, to speak to this gentleman." + +"And will you return to the synagogue?" + +"Of course I shall return to the synagogue." + +"Because Rebecca wishes me to go out with her," said the younger girl, +in a plaintive voice. + +"You cannot go out now. Your grandfather will want you when he +returns." + +"But, uncle Anton, he will not come till sunset." + +"My mother wished to have Ruth with her this afternoon if it were +possible," said Rebecca, hardly looking at Anton as she spoke to him; +"but of course if you will not give her leave I must return without +her." + +"Do you not know, Rebecca," said Anton, "that she is needful to her +grandfather?" + +"She could be back before sunset." + +"I will trust to you, then, that she is brought back." Ruth, as soon +as she heard the words, scampered up-stairs to array herself in such +finery as she possessed, while Rebecca still stood at the door. + +"Will you not come in, Rebecca, while you wait for her?" said Anton. + +"Thank you, I will stand here. I am very well here." + +"But the child will be ever so long making herself ready. Surely you +will come in." + +But Rebecca was obstinate, and kept her place at the door. "He has that +Christian girl there with him day after day," she said to Ruth as they +went away together. "I will never enter the house while she is allowed +to come there." + +"But Nina is very good," said Ruth. + +"I do not care for her goodness." + +"Do you not know that she is to be uncle Anton's wife?" + +"They have told me so, but she shall be no friend of mine, Ruth. Is it +not shameful that he should wish to marry a Christian?" + +When the two men had reached the sitting-room in the Jew's house, and +Ziska had seated himself, Anton Trendellsohn closed the door, and +asked, not quite in anger, but with something of sternness in his +voice, why he had been disturbed while engaged in an act of worship. + +"They told me that you would not mind my going in to you," said Ziska, +deprecating his wrath. + +"That depends on your business. What is it that you have to say to me?" + +"It is this. When you came to us the other day in the Ross Markt, we +were hardly prepared for you. We did not expect you." + +"Your mother could hardly have received me better had she expected me +for a twelvemonth." + +"You cannot be surprised that my mother should be vexed. Besides, you +would not be angry with a lady for what she might say." + +"I care but little what she says. But words, my friend, are things, +and are often things of great moment. All that, however, matters very +little. Why have you done us the honour of coming to our house?" + +Even Ziska could perceive, though his powers of perception in such +matters were perhaps not very great, that the Jew in the Jews' quarter, +and the Jew in the Ross Markt, were very different persons. Ziska was +now sitting while Anton Trendellsohn was standing over him. Ziska, when +he remembered that Anton had not been seated in his father's office-- +had not been asked to sit down--would have risen himself, and have +stood during the interview, but he did not know how to leave his seat. +And when the Jew called him his friend, he felt that the Jew was +getting the better of him--was already obtaining the ascendant. "Of +course we wish to prevent this marriage," said Ziska, dashing at once +at his subject. + +"You cannot prevent it. The law allows it. If that is what you have to +come to do, you may as well return." + +"But listen to me, my friend," said Ziska, taking a leaf out of the +Jew's book. "Only listen to me, and then I shall go." + +"Speak, then, and I will listen; but be quick." + +"You want, of course, to be made right about those houses?" + +"My father, to whom they belong, wishes to be made right, as you call +it." + +"It is all the same thing. Now, look here. The truth is this. +Everything shall be settled for you, and the whole thing given up +regularly into your hands, if you will only give over about Nina +Balatka." + +"But I will not give over about Nina Balatka. Am I to be bribed out of +my love by an offer of that which is already mine own? But that you are +in my father's house, I would be wrathful with you for making me such +an offer." + +"Why should you seek a Christian wife, with such maidens among you as +her whom I saw at the door?" + +"Do not mind the maiden whom you saw at the door. She is nothing to +you." + +"No; she is nothing to me. Of course, the lady is nothing to me. If I +were to come here looking for her, you would be angry, and would bid me +seek for beauty among my own people. Would you not do so? Answer me +now." + +"Like enough. Rebecca Loth has many friends who would take her part." + +"And why should we not take Nina's part--we who are her friends?" + +"Have you taken her part? Have you comforted her when she was in +sorrow? Have you wiped her tears when she wept? Have you taken from her +the stings of poverty, and striven to make the world to her a pleasant +garden? She has no mother of her own. Has yours been a mother to her? +Why is it that Nina Balatka has cared to receive the sympathy and the +love of a Jew? Ask that girl whom you saw at the door for some corner +in her heart, and she will scorn you. She, a Jewess, will scorn you, a +Christian. She would so look at you that you would not dare to repeat +your prayer. Why is it that Nina has not so scorned me? We are lodged +poorly here, while Nina's aunt has a fine house in the New Town. She +has a carriage and horses, and the world around her is gay and bright. +Why did Nina come to the Jews' quarter for sympathy, seeing that she, +too, has friends of her own persuasion? Take Nina's part, indeed! It is +too late now for you to take her part. She has chosen for herself, and +her resting-place is to be here." Trendellsohn, as he spoke, put his +hand upon his breast, within the fold of his waistcoat; but Ziska +hardly understood that his doing so had any special meaning. Ziska +supposed that the "here" of which the Jew spoke was the old house in +which they were at that moment talking to each other. + +"I am sure we have meant to be kind to her," said Ziska. + +"You see the effect of your kindness. I tell you this only in answer to +what you said as to the young woman whom you saw at the door. Have you +aught else to say to me? I utterly decline that small matter of traffic +which you have proposed to me." + +"It was not traffic exactly." + +"Very well. What else is there that I can do for you?" + +"I hardly know how to go on, as you are so--so hard in all that you +say." + +"You will not be able to soften me, I fear." + +"About the houses--though you say that I am trafficking, I really wish +to be honest with you." + +"Say what you have to say, then, and be honest." + +"I have never seen but one document which conveys the ownership of +those houses." + +"Let my father, then, have that one document." + +"It is in Balatka's house." + +"That can hardly be possible," said Trendellsohn. + +"As I am a Christian gentleman," said Ziska, "I believe it to be in +that house." + +"As I am a Jew, sir, fearing God," said the other, "I do not believe +it. Who in that house has the charge of it?" + +Ziska hesitated before he replied. "Nina, as I think," he said at last. +"I suppose Nina has it herself." + +"Then she would be a traitor to me." + +"What am I to say as to that?" said Ziska, smiling. Trendellsohn came +to him and sat down close at his side, looking closely into his face. +Ziska would have moved away from the Jew, but the elbow of the sofa +did not admit of his receding; and then, while he was thinking that he +would escape by rising from his seat, Anton spoke again in a low voice +--so low that it was almost a whisper, but the words seemed to fall +direct into Ziska's ears, and to hurt him. "What are you to say? You +called yourself just now a Christian gentleman. Neither the one name +nor the other goes for aught with me. I am neither the one nor the +other. But I am a man; and I ask you, as another man, whether it be +true that Nina Balatka has that paper in her possession--in her own +possession, mind you, I say." Ziska had hesitated before, but his +hesitation now was much more palpable. "Why do you not answer me?" +continued the Jew. "You have made this accusation against her. Is +the accusation true?" + +"I think she has it," said Ziska. "Indeed I feel sure of it." + +"In her own hands?" + +"Oh yes; in her own hands. Of course it must be in her own hands." + +"Christian gentleman," said Anton, rising again from his seat, and now +standing opposite to Ziska, "I disbelieve you. I think that you are +lying to me. Despite your Christianity, and despite your gentility--you +are a liar. Now, sir, unless you have anything further to say to me, +you may go." + +Ziska, when thus addressed, rose of course from his seat. By nature he +was not a coward, but he was unready, and knew not what to do or to say +on the spur of the moment. "I did not come here to be insulted," he +said. + +"No; you came to insult me, with two falsehoods in your mouth, either +of which proves the other to be a lie. You offer to give me up the +deeds on certain conditions, and then tell me that they are with the +girl! If she has them, how can you surrender them? I do not know +whether so silly a story might prevail between two Christians, but we +Jews have been taught among you to be somewhat observant. Sir, it is +my belief that the document belonging to my father is in your father's +desk in the Ross Markt." + +"By heaven, it is in the house in the Kleinseite." + +"How could you then have surrendered it?" + +"It could have been managed." + +It was now the Jew's turn to pause and hesitate. In the general +conclusion to which his mind had come, he was not far wrong. He +thought that Ziska was endeavouring to deceive him in the spirit of +what he said, but that as regarded the letter, the young man was +endeavouring to adhere to some fact for the salvation of his conscience +as a Christian. If Anton Trendellsohn could but find out in what lay +the quibble, the discovery might be very serviceable to him. "It could +have been managed--could it?" he said, speaking very slowly. "Between +you and her, perhaps." + +"Well, yes; between me and Nina--or between some of us," said Ziska. + +"And cannot it be managed now?" + +"Nina is not one of us now. How can we deal with her?" + +"Then I will deal with her myself. I will manage it if it is to be +managed. And, sir, if I find that in this matter you have told me the +simple truth--not the truth, mind you, as from a gentleman, or the +truth as from a Christian, for I suspect both--but the simple truth as +from man to man, then I will express my sorrow for the harsh words I +have used to you." As he finished speaking, Trendellsohn held the door +of the room open in his hand, and Ziska, not being ready with any +answer, passed through it and descended the stairs. The Jew followed +him and also held open the house door, but did not speak again as Ziska +went out. Nor did Ziska say a word, the proper words not being ready to +his tongue. The Jew returned at once into the synagogue, having during +the interview with Ziska worn the short white surplice in which he had +been found; and Ziska returned at once to his own house in the +Windberg-gasse. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Early on the following morning--the morning of the Christian Sunday-- +Nina Balatka received a note, a very short note, from her lover the +Jew. "Dearest, meet me on the bridge this evening at eight. I will be +at your end on the right-hand pathway exactly at eight. Thine, ever and +always, A. T." Nina, directly she had read the words, rushed out to the +door in order that she might give assurance to the messenger that she +would do as she was bidden; but the messenger was gone, and Nina was +obliged to reconcile herself to the prospect of silent obedience. The +note, however, had made her very happy, and the prospect pleased her +well. It was on this very day that she had intended to go to her lover; +but it was in all respects much pleasanter to her that her lover should +come to her. And then, to walk with him was of all things the most +delightful, especially in the gloom of the evening, when no eyes could +see her--no eyes but his own. She could hang upon his arm, and in this +way she could talk more freely with him than in any other. And then the +note had in it more of the sweetness of a love-letter than any written +words which she had hitherto received from him. It was very short, no +doubt, but he had called her "Dearest," instead of "Dear Nina," as had +been his custom, and then he had declared that he was hers ever and +always. No words could have been sweeter. She was glad that the note +was so short, because there was nothing in it to mar her pleasure. Yes, +she would be there at eight. She was quite determined that she would +not keep him waiting. + +At half-past seven she was on the bridge. There could be no reason, she +thought, why she should not walk across it to the other side and then +retrace her steps, though in doing so she was forced, by the rule of +the road upon the bridge, to pass to the Old Town by the right-hand +pathway in going, while he must come to her by the opposite side. But +she would walk very quickly and watch very closely. If she did not see +him as she crossed and recrossed, she would at any rate be on the spot +indicated at the time named. The autumn evenings had become somewhat +chilly, and she wrapped her thin cloak close round her, as she felt the +night air as she came upon the open bridge. But she was not cold. She +told herself that she could not and would not be cold. How could she be +cold when she was going to meet her lover? The night was dark, for the +moon was now gone and the wind was blowing; but there were a few stars +bright in the heaven, and when she looked down through the parapets of +the bridge, there was just light enough for her to see the black water +flowing fast beneath her. She crossed quickly to the figure of St John, +that she might look closely on those passing on the other side, and +after a few moments recrossed the road. It was the figure of the saint, +St John Nepomucene, who was thrown from this very bridge and drowned, +and who has ever since been the protector of good Christians from the +fate which he himself had suffered. Then Nina bethought herself whether +she was a good Christian, and whether St John of the Bridge would be +justified in interposing on her behalf, should she be in want of him. +She had strong doubts as to the validity of her own Christianity, now +that she loved a Jew; and feared that it was more than probable that St +John would do nothing for her, were she in such a strait as that in +which he was supposed to interfere. But why now should she think of any +such danger? Lotta Luxa had told her to drown herself when she should +find herself to have been jilted by her Jew lover; but her Jew lover +was true to her; she had his dear words at that moment in her bosom, +and in a few moments her hand would be resting on his arm. So she +passed on from the statue of St John, with her mind made up that +she did not want St John's aid. Some other saint she would want, no +doubt, and she prayed a little silent prayer to St Nicholas, that he +would allow her to marry the Jew without taking offence at her. Her +circumstances had been very hard, as the saint must know, and she had +meant to do her best. Might it not be possible, if the saint would help +her, that she might convert her husband? But as she thought of this, +she shook her head. Anton Trendellsohn was not a man to be changed in +his religion by any words which she could use. It would be much more +probable, she knew, that the conversion would be the other way. And she +thought she would not mind that, if only it could be a real conversion. +But if she were induced to say that she was a Jewess, while she still +believed in St Nicholas and St John, and in the beautiful face of the +dear Virgin--if to please her husband she were to call herself a Jewess +while she was at heart a Christian--then her state would be very +wretched. She prayed again to St Nicholas to keep her from that state. +If she were to become a Jewess, she hoped that St Nicholas would let +her go altogether, heart and soul, into Judaism. + +When she reached the end of the long bridge she looked anxiously up the +street by which she knew that he must come, endeavouring to discover +his figure by the glimmering light of an oil-lamp that hung at an angle +in the street, or by the brighter glare which came from the gas in a +shop-window by which he must pass. She stood thus looking and looking +till she thought he would never come. Then she heard the clock in the +old watch-tower of the bridge over her head strike three-quarters, and +she became aware that, instead of her lover being after his time, she +had yet to wait a quarter of an hour for the exact moment which he +had appointed. She did not in the least mind waiting. She had been +a little uneasy when she thought that he had neglected or forgotten +his own appointment. So she turned again and walked back towards the +Kleinseite, fixing her eyes, as she had so often done, on the rows of +windows which glittered along the great dark mass of the Hradschin +Palace. What were they all doing up there, those slow and faded +courtiers to an ex-Emperor, that they should want to burn so many +candles? Thinking of this she passed the tablet on the bridge, and, +according to her custom, put the end of her fingers on it. But as she +was raising her hand to her mouth to kiss it she remembered that the +saint might not like such service from one who was already half a Jew +at heart, and she refrained. She refrained, and then considered whether +the bridge might not topple down with her into the stream because of +her iniquity. But it did not topple down, and now she was standing +beyond any danger from the water at the exact spot which Trendellsohn +had named. She stood still lest she might possibly miss him by moving, +till she was again cold. But she did not regard that, though she +pressed her cloak closely round her limbs. She did not move till she +heard the first sound of the bell as it struck eight, and then she +gave a little jump as she found that her lover was close upon her. + +"So you are here, Nina," he said, putting his hand upon her arm. + +"Of course I am here, Anton. I have been looking, and looking, and +looking, thinking you never would come; and how did you get here?" + +"I am as punctual as the clock, my love." + +"Oh yes, you are punctual, I know; but where did you come from?" + +"I came down the hill from the Hradschin. I have had business there. It +did not occur to your simplicity that I could reach you otherwise than +by the direct road from my own home." + +"I never thought of your coming from the side of the Hradschin," said +Nina, wondering whether any of those lights she had seen could have +been there for the use of Anton Trendellsohn. "I am so glad you have +come to me. It is so good of you." + +"It is good of you to come and meet me, my own one. But you are cold. +Let us walk, and you will be warmer." + +Nina, who had already put her hand upon her lover's arm, thrust it in +a little farther, encouraged by such sweet words; and then he took her +little hand in his, and drew her still nearer to him, till she was +clinging to him very closely. "Nina, my own one," he said again. He had +never before been in so sweet a mood with her. Walk with him? Yes; she +would walk with him all night if he would let her. Instead of turning +again over the bridge as she had expected, he took her back into the +Kleinseite, not bearing round to the right in the direction of her +own house, but going up the hill into a large square, round which +the pathway is covered by the overhanging houses, as is common for +avoidance of heat in Southern cities. Here, under the low colonnade, it +was very dark, and the passengers going to and fro were not many. At +each angle of the square where the neighbouring streets entered it, +in the open space, there hung a dull, dim oil-lamp; but other light +there was none. Nina, however, did not mind the darkness while Anton +Trendellsohn was with her. Even when walking close under the buttresses +of St Nicholas--of St Nicholas, who could not but have been offended-- +close under the very niche in which stood the statue of the saint--she +had no uncomfortable qualms. When Anton was with her she did not much +regard the saints. It was when she was alone that those thoughts on her +religion came to disturb her mind. "I do so like walking with you," she +said. "It is the nicest way of talking in the world." + +"I want to ask you a question, Nina," said Anton; "or perhaps two +questions." The tight grasping clasp made on his arm by the tips of her +fingers relaxed itself a little as she heard his words, and remarked +their altered tone. It was not, then, to be all love; and she could +perceive that he was going to be serious with her, and, as she feared, +perhaps angry. Whenever he spoke to her on any matter of business, his +manner was so very serious as to assume in her eyes, when judged by her +feelings, an appearance of anger. The Jew immediately felt the little +movement of her fingers, and hastened to reassure her. "I am quite sure +that your answers will satisfy me." + +"I hope so," said Nina. But the pressure of her hand upon his arm was +not at once repeated. + +"I have seen your cousin Ziska, Nina; indeed, I have seen him twice +lately; and I have seen your uncle and your aunt." + +"I suppose they did not say anything very pleasant about me." + +"They did not say anything very pleasant about anybody or about +anything. They were not very anxious to be pleasant; but that I did +not mind." + +"I hope they did not insult you, Anton?" + +"We Jews are used as yet to insolence from Christians, and do not mind +it." + +"They shall never more be anything to me, if they have insulted you." + +"It is nothing, Nina. We bear those things, and think that such of you +Christians as use that liberty of a vulgar tongue, which is still +possible towards a Jew in Prague, are simply poor in heart and +ignorant." + +"They are poor in heart and ignorant." + +"I first went to your uncle's office in the Ross Markt, where I saw him +and your aunt and Ziska. And afterwards Ziska came to me, at our own +house. He was tame enough then." + +"To your own house?" + +"Yes; to the Jews' quarter. Was it not a condescension? He came into +our synagogue and ferreted me out. You may be sure that he had +something very special to say when he did that. But he looked as though +he thought that his life were in danger among us." + +"But, Anton, what had he to say?" + +"I will tell you. He wanted to buy me off." + +"Buy you off!" + +"Yes; to bribe me to give you up. Aunt Sophie does not relish the idea +of having a Jew for her nephew." + +"Aunt Sophie!--but I will never call her Aunt Sophie again. Do you mean +that they offered you money?" + +"They offered me property, my dear, which is the same. But they did it +economically, for they only offered me my own. They were kind enough to +suggest that if I would merely break my word to you, they would tell me +how I could get the title-deeds of the houses, and thus have the power +of turning your father out into the street." + +"You have the power. He would go at once if you bade him." + +"I do not wish him to go. As I have told you often, he is welcome to +the use of the house. He shall have it for his life, as far as I am +concerned. But I should like to have what is my own." + +"And what did you say?" Nina, as she asked the question, was very +careful not to tighten her hold upon his arm by the weight of a single +ounce. + +"What did I say? I said that I had many things that I valued greatly, +but that I had one thing that I valued more than gold or houses--more +even than my right." + +"And what is that?" said Nina, stopping suddenly, so that she might +hear clearly every syllable of the words which were to come. "What is +that?" She did not even yet add an ounce to the pressure; but her +fingers were ready. + +"A poor thing," said Anton; "just the heart of a Christian girl." + +Then the hand was tightened, or rather the two hands, for they were +closed together upon his arm; and his other arm was wound round her +waist; and then, in the gloom of the dark colonnade, he pressed her +to his bosom, and kissed her lips and her forehead, and then her lips +again. "No," he said, "they have not bribed high enough yet to get from +me my treasure--my treasure." + +"Dearest, am I your treasure?" + +"Are you not? What else have I that I make equal to you?" Nina was +supremely happy--triumphant in her happiness. She cared nothing for her +aunt, nothing for Lotta Luxa and her threats; and very little at the +present moment even for St Nicholas or St John of the Bridge. To be +told by her lover that she was his own treasure, was sufficient to +banish for the time all her miseries and all her fears. + +"You are my treasure. I want you to remember that, and to believe it," +said the Jew. + +"I will believe it," said Nina, trembling with anxious eagerness. Could +it be possible that she would ever forget it? + +"And now I will ask my questions. Where are those title-deeds?" + +"Where are they?" said she, repeating his question. + +"Yes; where are they?" + +"Why do you ask me? And why do you look like that?" + +"I want you to tell me where they are, to the best of your knowledge." + +"Uncle Karil has them--or else Ziska." + +"You are sure of that?" + +"How can I be sure? I am not sure at all. But Ziska said something +which made me feel sure of it, as I told you before. And I have +supposed always that they must be in the Ross Markt. Where else can +they be?" + +"Your aunt says that you have got them." + +"That I have got them?" + +"Yes, you. That is what she intends me to understand." The Jew had +stopped at one of the corners, close under the little lamp, and looked +intently into Nina's face as he spoke to her. + +"And you believe her?" said Nina. + +But he went on without noticing her question. "She intends me +to believe that you have got them, and are keeping them from me +fraudulently! cheating me, in point of fact--that you are cheating me, +so that you may have some hold over the property for your own purposes. +That is what your aunt wishes me to believe. She is a wise woman, is +she not? and very clever. In one breath she tries to bribe me to give +you up, and in the next she wants to convince me that you are not worth +keeping." + +"But, Anton--" + +"Nay, Nina, I will not put you to the trouble of protestation. Look at +that star. I should as soon suspect the light which God has placed in +the heaven of misleading me, as I should suspect you." + +"Oh, Anton, dear Anton, I do so love you for saying that! Would it be +possible that I should keep anything from you?" + +"I think you would keep nothing from me. Were you to do so, you could +not be my own love any longer. A man's wife must be true to him in +everything, or she is not his wife. I could endure not only no fraud +from you, but neither could I endure falsehood." + +"I have never been false to you. With God's help I never will be false +to you." + +"He has given you His help. He has made you true-hearted, and I do not +doubt you. Now answer me another question. Is it possible that your +father should have the paper?" + +Nina paused a moment, and then she replied with eagerness, "Quite +impossible. I am sure that he knows nothing of it more than you know." +When she had so spoken they walked in silence for a few yards, but +Anton did not at once reply to her. "You do not think that father is +keeping anything from you, do you," said Nina. + +"I do not know," said the Jew. "I am not sure." + +"You may be sure. You may be quite sure. Father is at least honest." + +"I have always thought so." + +"And do you not think so still?" + +"Look here, Nina. I do not know that there is a Christian in Prague who +would feel it to be beneath him to rob a Jew, and I do not altogether +blame them. They believe that we would rob them, and many of us do so. +We are very sharp, each on the other, dealing against each other always +in hatred, never in love--never even in friendship." + +"But, for all that, my father has never wronged you." + +"He should not do so, for I am endeavouring to be kind to him. For your +sake, Nina, I would treat him as though he were a Jew himself." + +"He has never wronged you; I am sure that he has never wronged you." + +"Nina, you are more to me than you are to him." + +"Yes. I am--I am your own; but yet I will declare that he has never +wronged you." + +"And I should be more to you than he is." + +"You are more--you are everything to me; but, still, I know that he has +never wronged you." + +Then the Jew paused again, still walking onwards through the dark +colonnade with her hand upon his arm. They walked in silence the whole +side of the large square. Nina waiting patiently to hear what would +come next, and Trendellsohn considering what words he would use. He did +suspect her father, and it was needful to his purpose that he should +tell her so; and it was needful also, as he thought, that she should be +made to understand that in her loyalty and truth to him she must give +up her father, or even suspect her father, if his purpose required that +she should do so. Though she were still a Christian herself, she must +teach herself to look at other Christians, even at those belonging to +herself, with Jewish eyes. Unless she could do so she would not be true +and loyal to him with that troth and loyalty which he required. Poor +Nina! It was the dearest wish of her heart to be true and loyal to him +in all things; but it might be possible to put too hard a strain even +upon such love as hers. "Nina," the Jew said, "I fear your father. I +think that he is deceiving us." + +"No, Anton, no! he is not deceiving you. My aunt and uncle and Ziska +are deceiving you." + +"They are trying to deceive me, no doubt; but as far as I can judge +from their own words and looks, they do believe that at this moment the +document which I want is in your father's house. As far as I can judge +their thoughts from their words, they think that it is there." + +"It is not there," said Nina, positively. + +"That is what we must find out. Your uncle was silent. He said nothing, +or next to nothing." + +"He is the best of the three, by far," said Nina. + +"Your aunt is a clever woman in spite her blunder about you; and had I +dealt with her only I should have thought that she might have expressed +herself as she did, and still have had the paper in her own keeping. I +could not read her mind as I could read his. Women will lie better than +men." + +"But men can lie too," said Nina. + +"Your cousin Ziska is a fool." + +"He is a fox," said Nina. + +"He is a fool in comparison with his mother. And I had him in my own +house, under my thumb, as it were. Of course he lied. Of course he +tried to deceive me. But, Nina, he believes that the document is here-- +in your house. Whether it be there or not, Ziska thinks that it is +there." + +"Ziska is more fox than fool," said Nina. + +"Let that be as it may. I tell you the truth of him. He thinks it is +here. Now, Nina, you must search for it." + +"It is not there, Anton. I tell you of my own knowledge, it is not in +the house. Come and search yourself. Come to-morrow. Come to-night, if +you will." + +"It would be of no use. I could not search as you can do. Tell me, +Nina; has your father no place locked up which is not open to you?" + +"Yes; he has his old desk; you know it, where it stands in the +parlour." + +"You never open that?" + +"No, never; but there is nothing there--nothing of that nature." + +"How can you tell? Or he can keep it about his person?" + +"He keeps it nowhere. He has not got it. Dear Anton, put it out of your +head. You do not know my cousin Ziska. That he has it in his own hands +I am now sure." + +"And I, Nina, am sure that it is here in the Kleinseite--or at least +am sure that he thinks it to be so. The question now is this: Will you +obey me in what directions I may give you concerning it?" Nina could +not bring herself to give an unqualified reply to this demand on the +spur of the moment. Perhaps it occurred to her that the time for such +implicit obedience on her part had hardly yet come--that as yet at +least she must not be less true to her father than to her lover. She +hesitated, therefore, in answering him. "Do you not understand me, +Nina?" he said roughly. "I asked you whether you will do as I would +have you do, and you make no reply. We two, Nina, must be one in all +things, or else we must be apart--in all things." + +"I do not know what it is you wish of me," she said, trembling. + +"I wish you to obey me." + +"But suppose--" + +"I know that you must trust me first before you can obey me." + +"I do trust you. You know that I trust you." + +"Then you should obey me." + +"But not to suspect my own father!" + +"I do not ask you to suspect him." + +"But you suspect him?" + +"Yes; I do. I am older than you, and know more of men and their ways +than you can do. I do suspect him. You must promise me that you will +search for this deed." + +Again she paused, but after a moment or two a thought struck her, and +she replied eagerly, "Anton, I will tell you what I will do. I will ask +him openly. He and I have always been open to each other." + +"If he is concealing it, do you think he will tell you?" + +"Yes, he would tell me. But he is not concealing it." + +"Will you look?" + +"I cannot take his keys from him and open his box." + +"You mean that you will not do as I bid you?" + +"I cannot do it. Consider of it, Anton. Could you treat your own father +in such a way?" + +"I would cling to you sooner than to him. I have told him so, and he +has threatened to turn me penniless from his house. Still I shall cling +to you, because you are my love. I shall do so if you are equally true +to me. That is my idea of love. There can be no divided allegiance." + +And this also was Nina's idea of love--an idea up to which she had +striven to act and live when those around her had threatened her with +all that earth and heaven could do to her if she would not abandon the +Jew. But she had anticipated no such trial as that which had now come +upon her. "Dear Anton," she said, appealing to him weakly in her +weakness, "if you did but know how I love you!" + +"You must prove your love." + +"Am I not ready to prove it? Would I not give up anything, everything, +for you?" + +"Then you must assist me in this thing, as I am desiring you." As he +said this they had reached the corner from whence the street ran in the +direction of the bridge, and into this he turned instead of continuing +their walk round the square. She said nothing as he did so; but +accompanied him, still leaning upon his arm. He walked on quickly and +in silence till they came to the turn which led towards Balatka's +house, and then he stopped. "It is late," said he, "and you had better +go home." + +"May I not cross the bridge with you?" + +"You had better go home." His voice was very stern, and as she dropped +her hand from his arm she felt it to be impossible to leave him in that +way. Were she to do so, she would never be allowed to speak to him or +to see him again. "Good-night," he said, preparing to turn from her. + +"Anton, Anton, do not leave me like that." + +"How then shall I leave you? Shall I say that it does not matter +whether you obey me or not? It does matter. Between you and me such +obedience matters everything. If we are to be together, I must abandon +everything for you, and you must comply in everything with me." Then +Nina, leaning close upon him, whispered into his ear that she would +obey him. + + + + +VOLUME II + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Nina's misery as she went home was almost complete. She had not, +indeed, quarrelled with her lover, who had again caressed her as she +left him, and assured her of his absolute confidence, but she had +undertaken a task against which her very soul revolted. It gave her +no comfort to say to herself that she had undertaken to look for that +which she knew she would not find, and that therefore her search could +do no harm. She had, in truth, consented to become a spy upon her +father, and was so to do in furtherance of the views of one who +suspected her father of fraud, and who had not scrupled to tell her +that her father was dishonest. Now again she thought of St Nicholas, as +she heard the dull chime of the clock from the saint's tower, and found +herself forced to acknowledge that she was doing very wickedly in +loving a Jew. Of course troubles would come upon her. What else could +she expect? Had she not endeavoured to throw behind her and to trample +under foot all that she had learned from her infancy under the guidance +of St Nicholas? Of course the saint would desert her. The very sound +of the chime told her that he was angry with her. How could she hope +again that St John would be good to her? Was it not to be expected +that the black-flowing river over which she understood him to preside +would become her enemy and would swallow her up--as Lotta Luxa had +predicted? Before she returned home, when she was quite sure that Anton +Trendellsohn had already passed over, she went down upon the bridge, +and far enough along the causeway to find herself over the river, and +there, crouching down, she looked at the rapid-running silent black +stream beneath her. The waters were very silent and very black, but +she could still see or feel that they were running rapidly. And they +were cold, too. She herself at the present moment was very cold. She +shuddered as she looked down, pressing her face against the stone-work, +with her two hands resting on two of the pillars of the parapet. It +would be very terrible. She did not think that she much cared for +death. The world had been so hard to her, and was growing so much +harder, that it would be a good thing to get away from it. If she could +become ill and die, with a good kind nun standing by her bedside, and +with the cross pressed to her bosom, and with her eyes fixed on the +sweet face of the Virgin Mother as it was painted in the little picture +in her room--in that way she thought that death might even be grateful. +But to be carried away she knew not whither in the cold, silent, +black-flowing Moldau! And yet she half believed the prophecy of Lotta. +Such a quiet death as that she had pictured to herself could not be +given to her! What nun would come to her bedside--to the bed of a girl +who had declared to all Prague that she intended to marry a Jew? For +weeks past she had feared even to look at the picture of the Virgin. + +"I'm afraid you'll think I am very late, father," she said, as soon as +she reached home. + +Her father muttered something, but not angrily, and she soon busied +herself about him, doing some little thing for his comfort, as was +her wont. But as she did so she could not but remember that she had +undertaken to be a spy upon him, to secrete his key, and to search +surreptitiously for that which he was supposed to be keeping +fraudulently. As she sat by him empty-handed--for it was Sunday night, +and as a Christian she never worked with a needle upon the Sunday--she +told herself that she could not do it. Could there be any harm done +were she to ask him now, openly, what papers he kept in that desk? But +she desired to obey her lover where obedience was possible, and he had +expressly forbidden her to ask any such question. She sat, therefore, +and said no word that could tend to ease her suffering; and then, when +the time came, she went suffering to her bed. + +On the next day there seemed to come to her no opportunity for doing +that which she had to do. Souchey was in and out of the house all the +morning, explaining to her that they had almost come to the end of the +flour and of the potatoes which he had bought, that he himself had +swallowed on the previous evening the last tip of the great sausage-- +for, as he had alleged, it was no use a fellow dying of starvation +outright--and that there was hardly enough of chocolate left to make +three cups. Nina had brought out her necklace and had asked Souchey to +take it to the shop and do the best with it he could; but Souchey had +declined the commission, alleging that he would be accused of having +stolen it; and Nina had then prepared to go herself, but her father had +called her, and he had come out into the sitting-room and had remained +there during the afternoon, so that both the sale of the trinket and +the search in the desk had been postponed. The latter she might have +done at night, but when the night came the deed seemed to be more +horrid than it would be even in the day. + +She observed also, more accurately than she had ever done before, that +he always carried the key of his desk with him. He did not, indeed, put +it under his pillow, or conceal it in bed, but he placed it with an old +spectacle-case which he always carried, and a little worn pocket-book +which Nina knew to be empty, on a low table which stood at his +bed-head; and now during the whole of the afternoon he had the key on +the table beside him. Nina did not doubt but that she could take the +key while he was asleep; for when he was even half asleep--which was +perhaps his most customary state--he would not stir when she entered +the room. But if she took it at all, she would do so in the day. She +could not bring herself to creep into the room in the night, and to +steal the key in the dark. As she lay in bed she still thought of it. +She had promised her lover that she would do this thing. Should she +resolve not to do it, in spite of that promise, she must at any rate +tell Anton of her resolution. She must tell him, and then there would +be an end of everything. Would it be possible for her to live without +her love? + +On the following morning it occurred to her that she might perhaps be +able to induce her father to speak of the houses, and of those horrid +documents of which she had heard so much, without disobeying any of +Trendellsohn's behests. There could, she thought, be no harm in her +asking her father some question as to the ownership of the houses, +and as to the Jew's right to the property. Her father had very often +declared in her presence that old Trendellsohn could turn him into the +street at any moment. There had been no secrets between her and her +father as to their poverty, and there could be no reason why her tongue +should now be silenced, so long as she refrained from any positive +disobedience to her lover's commands. That he must be obeyed she still +recognised as the strongest rule of all--obeyed, that is, till she +should go to him and lay down her love at his feet, and give back to +him the troth which he had given her. + +"Father," she said to the old man about noon that day, "I suppose this +house does belong to the Trendellsohns?" + +"Of course it does," said he, crossly. + +"Belongs to them altogether, I mean?" she said. + +"I don't know what you call altogether. It does belong to them, and +there's an end of it. What's the good of talking about it?" + +"Only if so, they ought to have those deeds they are so anxious about. +Everybody ought to have what is his own. Don't you think so, father?" + +"I am keeping nothing from them," said he; "you don't suppose that I +want to rob them?" + +"Of course you do not." Then Nina paused again. She was drawing +perilously near to forbidden ground, if she were not standing on it +already; and yet she was very anxious that the subject should not be +dropped between her and her father. + +"I'm sure you do not want to rob anyone, father. But--" + +"But what? I suppose young Trendellsohn has been talking to you again +about it. I suppose he suspects me; if so, no doubt, you will suspect +me too." + +"Oh, father! how can you be so cruel?" + +"If he thinks the papers are here, it is his own house; let him come +and search for them." + +"He will not do that, I am sure." + +"What is it he wants, then? I can't go out to your uncle and make him +give them up." + +"They are, then, with uncle?" + +"I suppose so; but how am I to know? You see how they treat me. I +cannot go to them, and they never come to me--except when that woman +comes to scold." + +"But they can't belong to uncle." + +"Of course they don't." + +"Then why should he keep them? What good can they do him? When I spoke +to Ziska, Ziska said they should be kept, because Trendellsohn is a +Jew; but surely a Jew has a right to his own. We at any rate ought to +do what we can for him, Jew as he is, since he lets us live in his +house." + +The slight touch of irony which Nina had thrown into her voice when she +spoke of what was due to her lover even though he was a Jew was not +lost upon her father. "Of course you would take his part against a +Christian," he said. + +"I take no one's part against anyone," said she, "except so far as +right is concerned. If we take a Jew's money, I think we should give +him the thing which he purchases." + +"Who is keeping him from it?" said Balatka, angrily. + +"Well--I suppose it is my uncle," replied Nina. + +"Why cannot you let me be at peace then?" + +Having so said he turned himself round to the wall, and Nina felt +herself to be in a worse position than ever. There was nothing now for +her but to take the key, or else to tell her lover that she would not +obey him. There could be no further hope in diplomacy. She had just +resolved that she could not take the key--that in spite of her promise +she could not bring herself to treat her father after such fashion as +that--when the old man turned suddenly round upon her again, and went +back to the subject. + +"I have got a letter somewhere from Karil Zamenoy," said he, "telling +me that the deed is in his own chest." + +"Have you, father?" said she, anxiously, but struggling to repress her +anxiety. + +"I had it, I know. It was written ever so long ago--before I had +settled with the Trendellsohns; but I have seen it often since. Take +the key and unlock the desk, and bring me the bundle of papers that +are tied with an old tape; or--stop--bring me all the papers." With +trembling hand Nina took the key. She was now desired by her father to +do exactly that which her lover wished her to have done; or, better +still, her father was about to do the thing himself. She would at any +rate have positive proof that the paper was not in her father's desk. +He had desired her to bring all the papers, so that there would be no +doubt left. She took the key very gently, as softly as was possible to +her, and went slowly into the other room. When there she unlocked the +desk and took out the bundle of letters tied with an old tape which lay +at the top ready to her hand. Then she collected together the other +papers, which were not many, and without looking at them carried them +to her father. She studiously avoided any scrutiny of what there might +be, even by so much as a glance of her eye. "This seems to be all there +is, father, except one or two old account-books." + +He took the bundle, and with feeble hands untied the tape and moved +the documents, one by one. Nina felt that she was fully warranted in +looking at them now, as her father was in fact showing them to her. +In this way she would be able to give evidence in his favour without +having had recourse to any ignoble practice. The old man moved every +paper in the bundle, and she could see that they were all letters. She +had understood that the deed for which Trendellsohn had desired her to +search was written on a larger paper than any she now saw, and that she +might thus know it at once. There was, certainly, no such deed among +the papers which her father slowly turned over, and which he slowly +proceeded to tie up again with the old tape. "I am sure I saw it the +other day," he said, fingering among the loose papers while Nina looked +on with anxious eyes. Then at last he found the letter from Karil +Zamenoy, and having read it himself, gave it her to read. It was dated +seven or eight years back, at a time when Balatka was only on his way +to ruin--not absolutely ruined, as was the case with him now--and +contained an offer on Zamenoy's part to give safe custody to certain +documents which were named, and among which the deed now sought for +stood first. + +"And has he got all those other papers?" Nina asked. + +"No! he has none of them, unless he has this. There is nothing left but +this one that the Jew wants." + +"And uncle Karil has never given that back?" + +"Never." + +"And it should belong to Stephen Trendellsohn?" + +"Yes, I suppose it should." + +"Who can wonder, then, that they should be anxious and inquire after +it, and make a noise about it? Will not the law make uncle Karil give +it up?" + +"How can the law prove that he has got it? I know nothing about the +law. Put them all back again." Then Nina replaced the papers and locked +the desk. She had, at any rate, been absolutely and entirely successful +in her diplomacy, and would be able to assure Anton Trendellsohn, of +her knowledge, that that which he sought was not in her father's +keeping. + +On the same day she went out to sell her necklace. She waited till +it was nearly dark--till the first dusk of evening had come upon the +street--and then she crossed the bridge and hurried to a jeweller's +shop in the Grosser Ring which she had observed, and at which she knew +such trinkets as hers were customarily purchased. The Grosser Ring +is an open space--such as we call a square--in the oldest part of the +town, and in it stand the Town Hall and the Theinkirche, which may be +regarded as the most special church in Prague, as there for many years +were taught the doctrines of Huss, the great Reformer of Bohemia. +Here, in the Grosser Ring, there was generally a crowd of an evening, +as Nina knew, and she thought that she could go in and out of the +jeweller's shop without observation. She believed that she might be +able to borrow money on her treasure, leaving it as a deposit; and +this, if possible, she would do. There were regular pawnbrokers in the +town, by whom no questions would be made, who, of course, would lend +her money in the ordinary way of their trade; but she believed that +such people would advance to her but a very small portion of the value +of her necklace; and then, if, as would be too probable, she could not +redeem it, the necklace would be gone, and gone without a price! + +"Yes, it is my own, altogether my own--my very own." She had to explain +all the circumstances to the jeweller, and at last, with a view of +quelling any suspicion, she told the jeweler what was her name, and +explained how poor were the circumstances of her house. "But you must +be the niece of Madame Zamenoy, in the Windberg-gasse," said the +jeweller. And then, when Nina with hesitation acknowledged that such +was the case, the man asked her why she did not go to her rich aunt, +instead of selling a trinket which must be so valuable. + +"No!" said Nina, "I cannot do that. If you will lend me something of +its value, I shall be so much obliged to you." + +"But Madame Zamenoy would surely help you?" + +"We would not take it from her. But we will not speak of that, sir. +Can I have the money?" Then the jeweller gave her a receipt for the +necklace and took her receipt for the sum he lent her. It was more than +Nina had expected, and she rejoiced that she had so well completed her +business. Nevertheless she wished that the jeweller had known nothing +of her aunt. She was hardly out of the shop before she met her cousin +Ziska, and she so met him that she could not escape him. She heard his +voice, indeed, almost as soon as she recognised him, and had stopped at +his summons before she had calculated whether it might not be better to +run away. "What, Nina! is that you?" said Ziska, taking her hand before +she knew how to refuse it to him. + +"Yes; it is I," said Nina. + +"What are you doing here?" + +"Why should I not be in the Grosser Ring as well as another? It is open +to rich and poor." + +"So is Rapinsky's shop; but poor people do not generally have much to +do there." Rapinsky was the name of the jeweller who had advanced the +money to Nina. + +"No, not much," said Nina. "What little they have to sell is soon +sold." + +"And have you been selling anything?" + +"Nothing of yours, Ziska." + +"But have you been selling anything?" + +"Why do you ask me? What business is it of yours?" + +"They say that Anton Trendellsohn, the Jew, gives you all that you +want," said Ziska. + +"Then they say lies," said Nina, her eyes flashing fire upon her +Christian lover through the gloom of the evening. "Who says so? You say +so. No one else would be mean enough to be so false." + +"All Prague says so." + +"All Prague! I know what that means. And did all Prague go to the Jews' +quarter last Saturday, to tell Anton Trendellsohn that the paper which +he wants, and which is his own, was in father's keeping? Was it all +Prague told that falsehood also?" There was a scorn in her face as she +spoke which distressed Ziska greatly, but which he did not know how to +meet or how to answer. He wanted to be brave before her; and he wanted +also to show his affection for her, if only he knew how to do so, +without making himself humble in her presence. + +"Shall I tell you, Nina, why I went to the Jews' quarter on Saturday?" + +"No; tell me nothing. I wish to hear nothing from you. I know enough +without your telling me." + +"I wish to save you if it be possible, because--because I love you." + +"And I--I never wish to see you again, because I hate you. I hate you, +because you have been cruel. But let me tell you this; poor as we are, +I have never taken a farthing of Anton's money. When I am his wife, as +I hope to be--as I hope to be--I will take what he gives me as though +it came from heaven. From you!--I would sooner die in the street +than take a crust of bread from you." Then she darted from him, and +succeeded in escaping without hearing the words with which he replied +to her angry taunts. She was woman enough to understand that her +keenest weapon for wounding him would be an expression of unbounded +love and confidence as to the man who was his rival; and therefore, +though she was compelled to deny that she had lived on the charity of +her lover, she had coupled her denial with an assurance of her faith +and affection, which was, no doubt, bitter enough in Ziska's ears. "I +do believe that she is witched," he said, as he turned away towards his +own house. And then he reflected wisely on the backward tendency of the +world in general, and regretted much that there was no longer given to +priests in Bohemia the power of treating with salutary ecclesiastical +severity patients suffering in the way in which his cousin Nina was +afflicted. + +Nina had hardly got out of the Grosser Ring into the narrow street +which leads from thence towards the bridge, when she encountered her +other lover. He was walking slowly down the centre of the street when +she passed him, or would have passed him, had not she recognized his +figure through the gloom. "Anton," she said, coming up to him and +touching his arm as lightly as was possible. "I am so glad to meet +you here." + +"Nina?" + +"Yes; Nina." + +"And what have you been doing?" + +"I don't know that I want to tell you; only that I like to tell you +everything." + +"If so, you can tell me this." Nina, however, hesitated. "If you have +secrets, I do not want to inquire into them," said the Jew. + +"I would rather have no secrets from you, only--" + +"Only what?" + +"Well; I will tell you. I had a necklace; and we are not very rich, you +know, at home; and I wanted to get something for father, and--" + +"You have sold it?" + +"No; I have not sold it. The man was very civil, indeed quite kind, and +he lent me some money." + +"But the kind man kept the necklace, I suppose." + +"Of course he kept the necklace. You would not have me borrow money +from a stranger, and leave him nothing?" + +"No; I would not have you do that. But why not borrow from one who is +no stranger?" + +"I do not want to borrow at all," said Nina, in her lowest tone. + +"Are you ashamed to come to me in your trouble?" + +"Yes," said Nina. "I should be ashamed to come to you for money. I +would not take it from you." + +He did not answer her at once, but walked on slowly while she kept +close to his side. + +"Give me the jeweller's docket," he said at last. Nina hesitated for a +moment, and then he repeated his demand in a sterner voice. "Nina, give +me the jeweller's docket." Then she put her hand in her pocket and gave +it him. She was very averse to doing so, but she was more averse to +refusing him aught that he asked of her. + +"I have got something to tell you, Anton," she said, as soon as he had +put the jeweller's paper into his purse. + +"Well--what is it?" + +"I have seen every paper and every morsel of everything that is in +father's desk, and there is no sign of the deed you want." + +"And how did you see them?" + +"He showed them to me." + +"You told him, then, what I had said to you?" + +"No; I told him nothing about it. He gave me the key, and desired me to +fetch him all the papers. He wanted to find a letter which uncle Karil +wrote him ever so long ago. In that letter uncle Karil acknowledges +that he has the deed." + +"I do not doubt that in the least." + +"And what is it you do doubt, Anton?" + +"I do not say I doubt anything." + +"Do you doubt me, Anton?" + +There was a little pause before he answered her--the slightest moment +of hesitation. But had it been but half as much, Nina's ear and Nina's +heart would have detected it. "No," said Anton, "I am not saying that I +doubt any one." + +"If you doubt me, you will kill me. I am at any rate true to you. What +is it you want? What is it you think?" + +"They tell me that the document is in the house in the Kleinseite." + +"Who are they? Who is it that tells you?" + +"More than one. Your uncle and aunt said so--and Ziska Zamenoy came to +me on purpose to repeat the same." + +"And would you believe what Ziska says? I have hardly thought it worth +my while to tell you that Ziska--" + +"To tell me what of Ziska?" + +"That Ziska pretends to--to want that I should be his wife. I would not +look at him if there were not another man in Prague. I hate him. He is +a liar. Would you believe Ziska?" + +"And another has told me." + +"Another?" said Nina, considering. + +"Yes, another." + +"Lotta Luxa, I suppose." + +"Never mind. They say indeed that it is you who have the deed." + +"And you believe them?" + +"No, I do not believe them. But why do they say so?" + +"Must I explain that? How can I tell? Anton, do you not believe that +the woman who loves you will be true to you?" + +Then he paused again--"Nina, sometimes I think that I have been mad to +love a Christian." + +"What have I been then? But I do love you, Anton--I love you better +than all the world. I care nothing for Jew or Christian. When I think +of you, I care nothing for heaven or earth. You are everything to me, +because I love you. How could I deceive you?" + +"Nina, Nina, my own one!" he said. + +"And as I love you, so do you love me? Say that you love me also." + +"I do," said he--"I love you as I love my own soul." + +Then they parted; and Nina, as she went home, tried to make herself +happy with the assurance which had been given to her by the last words +her lover had spoken; but still there remained with her that suspicion +of a doubt which, if it really existed, would be so cruel an injury to +her love. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Some days passed on after the visit to the jeweller's shop--perhaps ten +or twelve--before Nina heard from or saw her lover again; and during +that time she had no tidings from her relatives in the Windberg-gasse. +Life went on very quietly in the old house, and not the less quietly +because the proceeds of the necklace saved Nina from any further +immediate necessity of searching for money. The cold weather had come, +or rather weather that was cold in the morning and cold in the evening, +and old Balatka kept his bed altogether. His state was such that no one +could say why he should not get up and dress himself, and he himself +continued to speak of some future time when he would do so; but there +he was, lying in his bed, and Nina told herself that in all probability +she would never see him about the house again. For herself, she was +becoming painfully anxious that some day should be fixed for her +marriage. She knew that she was, herself, ignorant in such matters; +and she knew also that there was no woman near her from whom she could +seek counsel. Were she to go to some matron of the neighbourhood, her +neighbour would only rebuke her, because she loved a Jew. She had +boldly told her relatives of her love, and by doing so had shut herself +out from all assistance from them. From even her father she could get +no sympathy; though with him her engagement had become so far a thing +sanctioned, that he had ceased to speak of it in words of reproach. +But when was it to be? She had more than once made up her mind that +she would ask her lover, but her courage had never as yet mounted high +enough in his presence to allow her to do so. When he was with her, +their conversation always took such a turn that before she left him she +was happy enough if she could only draw from him an assurance that he +was not forgetting to love her. Of any final time for her marriage he +never said a word. In the mean time she and her father might starve! +They could not live on the price of a necklace for ever. She had not +made up her mind--she never could make up her mind--as to what might be +best for her father when she should be married; but she had made up her +mind that when that happy time should come, she would simply obey her +husband. He would tell her what would be best for her father. But in +the mean time there was no word of her marriage; and now she had been +ten days in the Kleinseite without once having had so much as a message +from her lover. How was it possible that she should continue to live in +such a condition as this? + +She was sitting one morning very forlorn in the big parlour, looking +out upon the birds who were pecking among the dust in the courtyard +below, when her eye just caught the drapery of the dress of some woman +who had entered the arched gateway. Nina, from her place by the window, +could see out through the arch, and no one therefore could come through +their gate while she was at her seat without passing under her eye; but +on this occasion the birds had distracted her attention, and she had +not caught a sight of the woman's face or figure. Could it be her aunt +come to torture her again--her and her father? She knew that Souchey +was down-stairs, hanging somewhere in idleness about the door, and +therefore she did not leave her place. If it were indeed her aunt, her +aunt might come up there to seek her. Or it might possibly be Lotta +Luxa, who, next to her aunt, was of all women the most disagreeable to +Nina. Lotta, indeed, was not so hard to bear as aunt Sophie, because +Lotta could be answered sharply, and could be told to go, if matters +proceeded to extremities. In such a case Lotta no doubt would not +go; but still the power of desiring her to do so was much. Then Nina +remembered that Lotta never wore her petticoats so full as was the +morsel of drapery which she had seen. And as she thought of this +there came a low knock at the door. Nina, without rising, desired the +stranger to come in. Then the door was gently opened, and Rebecca Loth +the Jewess stood before her. Nina had seen Rebecca, but had never +spoken to her. Each girl had heard much of the other from their younger +friend Ruth Jacobi. Ruth was very intimate with them both, and Nina had +been willing enough to be told of Rebecca, as had Rebecca also to be +told of Nina. "Grandfather wants Anton to marry Rebecca," Ruth had said +more than once; and thus Nina knew well that Rebecca was her rival. "I +think he loves her better than his own eyes," Ruth had said to Rebecca, +speaking of her uncle and Nina. But Rebecca had heard from a thousand +sources of information that he who was to have been her lover had +forgotten his own people and his own religion, and had given himself +to a Christian girl. Each, therefore, now knew that she looked upon an +enemy and a rival; but each was anxious to be very courteous to her +enemy. + +Nina rose from her chair directly she saw her visitor, and came forward +to meet her. "I suppose you hardly know who I am, Fraeulein?" said +Rebecca. + +"Oh, yes," said Nina, with her pleasantest smile; "you are Rebecca +Loth." + +"Yes, I am Rebecca Loth, the Jewess." + +"I like the Jews," said Nina. + +Rebecca was not dressed now as she had been dressed on that gala +occasion when we saw her in the Jews' quarter. Then she had been as +smart as white muslin and bright ribbons and velvet could make her. Now +she was clad almost entirely in black, and over her shoulders she wore +a dark shawl, drawn closely round her neck. But she had on her head, +now as then, that peculiar Hungarian hat which looks almost like a +coronet in front, and gives an aspect to the girl who wears it half +defiant and half attractive; and there were there, of course, the long, +glossy, black curls, and the dark-blue eyes, and the turn of the face, +which was so completely Jewish in its hard, bold, almost repellant +beauty. Nina had said that she liked the Jews, but when the words were +spoken she remembered that they might be open to misconstruction, and +she blushed. The same idea occurred to Rebecca, but she scorned to take +advantage of even a successful rival on such a point as that. She would +not twit Nina by any hint that this assumed liking for the Jews was +simply a special predilection for one Jew in particular. "We are not +ungrateful to you for coming among us and knowing us," said Rebecca. +Then there was a slight pause, for Nina hardly knew what to say to +her visitor. But Rebecca continued to speak. "We hear that in other +countries the prejudice against us is dying away, and that Christians +stay with Jews in their houses, and Jews with Christians, eating with +them, and drinking with them. I fear it will never be so in Prague." + +"And why not in Prague? I hope it may. Why should we not do in Prague +as they do elsewhere?" + +"Ah, the feeling is so firmly settled here. We have our own quarter, +and live altogether apart. A Christian here will hardly walk with a +Jew, unless it be from counter to counter, or from bank to bank. As for +their living together--or even eating in the same room--do you ever see +it?" + +Nina of course understood the meaning of this. That which the girl said +to her was intended to prove to her how impossible it was that she +should marry a Jew, and live in Prague with a Jew as his wife; but she, +who stood her ground before aunt Sophie, who had never flinched for a +moment before all the threats which could be showered upon her from +the Christian side, was not going to quail before the opposition of a +Jewess, and that Jewess a rival! + +"I do not know why we should not live to see it," said Nina. + +"It must take long first--very long," said Rebecca. "Even now, +Fraeulein, I fear you will think that I am very intrusive in coming to +you. I know that a Jewess has no right to push her acquaintance upon a +Christian girl." The Jewess spoke very humbly of herself and of her +people; but in every word she uttered there was a slight touch of irony +which was not lost upon Nina. Nina could not but bethink herself that +she was poor--so poor that everything around her, on her, and about +her, told of poverty; while Rebecca was very rich, and showed her +wealth even in the sombre garments which she had chosen for her morning +visit. No idea of Nina's poverty had crossed Rebecca's mind, but Nina +herself could not but remember it when she felt the sarcasm implied in +her visitor's self-humiliation. + +"I am glad that you have come to me--very glad indeed, if you have come +in friendship." Then she blushed as she continued, "To me, situated as +I am, the friendship of a Jewish maiden would be a treasure indeed." + +"You intend to speak of--" + +"I speak of my engagement with Anton Trendellsohn. I do so with you +because I know that you have heard of it. You tell me that Jews and +Christians cannot come together in Prague, but I mean to marry a Jew. A +Jew is my lover. If you will say that you will be my friend, I will +love you indeed. Ruth Jacobi is my friend; but then Ruth is so young." + +"Yes, Ruth is very young. She is a child. She knows nothing." + +"A child's friendship is better than none." + +"Ruth is very young. She cannot understand. I too love Ruth Jacobi. I +have known her since she was born. I knew and loved her mother. You do +not remember Ruth Trendellsohn. No; your acquaintance with them is only +of the other day." + +"Ruth's mother has been dead seven years," said Nina. + +"And what are seven years? I have known them for four-and-twenty." + +"Nay; that cannot be." + +"But I have. That is my age, and I was born, so to say, in their arms. +Ruth Trendellsohn was ten years older than I--only ten." + +"And Anton?" + +"Anton was a year older than his sister; but you know Anton's age. Has +he never told you his age?" + +"I never asked him; but I know it. There are things one knows as a +matter of course. I remember his birthday always." + +"It has been a short always." + +"No, not so short. Two years is not a short time to know a friend." + +"But he has not been betrothed to you for two years?" + +"No; not betrothed to me." + +"Nor has he loved you so long; nor you him?" + +"For him, I can only speak of the time when he first told me so." + +"And that was but the other day--but the other day, as I count the +time." To this Nina made no answer. She could not claim to have known +her lover from so early a date as Rebecca Loth had done, who had been, +as she said, born in the arms of his family. But what of that? Men +do not always love best those women whom they have known the longest. +Anton Trendellsohn had known her long enough to find that he loved her +best. Why then should this Jewish girl come to her and throw in her +teeth the shortness of her intimacy with the man who was to be her +husband? If she, Nina, had also been a Jewess, Rebecca Loth would not +then have spoken in such a way. As she thought of this she turned her +face away from the stranger, and looked out among the sparrows who were +still pecking among the dust in the court. She had told Rebecca at the +beginning of their interview that she would be delighted to find a +friend in a Jewess, but now she felt sorry that the girl had come to +her. For Anton's sake she would bear with much from one whom he had +known so long. But for that thought she would have answered her visitor +with short courtesy. As it was, she sat silent and looked out upon the +birds. + +"I have come to you now," said Rebecca Loth, "to say a few words to you +about Anton Trendellsohn. I hope you will not refuse to listen." + +"That will depend on what you say." + +"Do you think it will be for his good to marry a Christian?" + +"I shall leave him to judge of that," replied Nina, sharply. + +"It cannot be that you do not think of it. I am sure you would not +willingly do an injury to the man you love." + +"I would die for him, if that would serve him." + +"You can serve him without dying. If he takes you for his wife, all his +people will turn against him. His own father will become his enemy." + +"How can that be? His father knows of it, and yet he is not my enemy." + +"It is as I tell you. His father will disinherit him. Every Jew in +Prague will turn his back upon him. He knows it now. Anton knows it +himself, but he cannot be the first to say the word that shall put an +end to your engagement." + +"Jews have married Christians in Prague before now," said Nina, +pleading her own cause with all the strength she had. + +"But not such a one as Anton Trendellsohn. An unconsidered man may do +that which is not permitted to those who are more in note." + +"There is no law against it now." + +"That is true. There is no law. But there are habits stronger than law. +In your own case, do you not know that all the friends you have in the +world will turn their backs upon you? And so it would be with him. You +two would be alone--neither as Jews nor as Christians--with none to aid +you, with no friend to love you." + +"For myself I care nothing," said Nina. "They may say, if they like, +that I am no Christian." + +"But how will it be with him? Can you ever be happy if you have been +the cause of ruin to your husband?" + +Nina was again silent for a while, sitting with her face turned +altogether away from the Jewess. Then she rose suddenly from her +chair, and, facing round almost fiercely upon the other girl, asked +a question, which came from the fulness of her heart, "And you--you +yourself, what is it that you intend to do? Do you wish to marry him?" + +"I do," said Rebecca, bearing Nina's gaze without dropping her own eyes +for a moment. "I do. I do wish to be the wife of Anton Trendellsohn." + +"Then you shall never have your wish--never. He loves me, and me only. +Ask him, and he will tell you so." + +"I have asked him, and he has told me so." There was something so +serious, so sad, and so determined in the manner of the young Jewess, +that it almost cowed Nina--almost drove her to yield before her +visitor. "If he has told you so," she said--then she stopped, not +wishing to triumph over her rival. + +"He has told me so; but I knew it without his telling. We all know it. +I have not come here to deceive you, or to create false suspicions. He +does love you. He cares nothing for me, and he does love you. But is he +therefore to be ruined? Which had he better lose? All that he has in +the world, or the girl that has taken his fancy?" + +"I would sooner lose the world twice over than lose him." + +"Yes; but you are only a woman. Think of his position. There is not a +Jew in all Prague respected among us as he is respected. He knows more, +can do more, has more of wit and cleverness, than any of us. We look to +him to win for the Jews in Prague something of the freedom which Jews +have elsewhere--in Paris and in London. If he takes a Christian for his +wife, all this will be destroyed." + +"But all will be well if he were to marry you!" + +Now it was Rebecca's turn to pause; but it was not for long. "I love +him dearly," she said; "with a love as warm as yours." + +"And therefore I am to be untrue to him," said Nina, again seating +herself. + +"And were I to become his wife," continued Rebecca, not regarding the +interruption, "it would be well with him in a worldly point of view. +All our people would be glad, because there has been friendship between +the families from of old. His father would be pleased, and he would +become rich; and I also am not without some wealth of my own." + +"While I am poor," said Nina; "so poor that--look here, I can only mend +my rags. There, look at my shoes. I have not another pair to my feet. +But if he likes me, poor and ragged, better than he likes you, rich--" +She got so far, raising her voice as she spoke; but she could get no +farther, for her sobs stopped her voice. + +But while she was struggling to speak, the other girl rose and knelt at +Nina's feet, putting her long tapering fingers upon Nina's thread-bare +arms, so that her forehead was almost close to Nina's lips. "He does," +said Rebecca. "It is true--quite true. He loves you, poor as you are, +ten times--a hundred times--better than he loves me, who am not poor. +You have won it altogether by yourself, with nothing of outside art to +back you. You have your triumph. Will not that be enough for a life's +contentment?" + +"No--no, no," said Nina. "No, it will not be enough." But her voice +now was not altogether sorrowful. There was in it something of a wild +joy which had come to her heart from the generous admission which the +Jewess made. She did triumph as she remembered that she had conquered +with no other weapons than those which nature had given her. + +"It is more of contentment than I shall ever have," said Rebecca. +"Listen to me. If you will say to me that you will release him from +his promise, I will swear to you by the God whom we both worship, that +I will never become his wife--that he shall never touch me or speak to +me in love." She had risen before she made this proposal, and now stood +before Nina with one hand raised, with her blue eyes fixed upon Nina's +face, and a solemnity in her manner which for a while startled Nina +into silence. "You will believe my word, I am sure," said Rebecca. + +"Yes, I would believe you," said Nina. + +"Shall it be a bargain between us? Say so, and whatever is mine shall +be mine and yours too. Though a Jew may not make a Christian his wife, +a Jewish girl may love a Christian maiden; and then, Nina, we shall +both know that we have done our very best for him whom we both love +better than all the world beside." + +Nina was again silent, considering the proposition that had been made +to her. There was one thing that she did not see; one point of view +in which the matter had not been presented to her. The cause for her +sacrifice had been made plain to her, but why was the sacrifice of the +other also to become necessary? By not yielding she might be able to +keep her lover to herself; but if she were to be induced to abandon him +--for his sake, so that he might not be ruined by his love for her-- +why, in that case, should he not take the other girl for his wife? In +such a case Nina told herself that there would be no world left for +her. There would be nothing left for her beyond the accomplishment of +Lotta Luxa's prophecy. But yet, though she thought of this, though in +her misery she half resolved that she would give up Anton, and not +exact from Rebecca the oath which the Jewess had tendered, still, in +spite of that feeling, the dread of a rival's success helped to make +her feel that she could never bring herself to yield. + +"Shall it be as I say?" said Rebecca; "and shall we, dear, be friends +while we live?" + +"No," said Nina, suddenly. + +"You cannot bring yourself to do so much for the man you love?" + +"No, I cannot. Could you throw yourself from the bridge into the +Moldau, and drown yourself?" + +"Yes," said Rebecca, "I could. If it would serve him, I think that I +could do so." + +"What! in the dark, when it is so cold? The people would see you in the +daytime." + +"But I would live, that I might hear of his doings, and see his +success." + +"Ah! I could not live without feeling that he loved me." + +"But what will you think of his love when it has ruined him? Will it be +pleasant then? Were I to do that, then--then I should bethink myself of +the cold river and the dark night, and the eyes of the passers-by whom +I should be afraid to meet in the daytime. I ask you to be as I am. Who +is there that pities me? Think again, Nina. I know you would wish that +he should be prosperous." + +Nina did think again, and thought long. And she wept, and the Jewess +comforted her, and many words were said between them beyond those which +have been here set down; but, in the end, Nina could not bring herself +to say that she would give him up. For his sake had she not given up +her uncle and her aunt, and St John and St Nicholas--and the very +Virgin herself, whose picture she had now removed from the wall +beside her bed to a dark drawer? How could she give up that which was +everything she had in the world--the very life of her bosom? "I will +ask him--him himself," she said at last, hoarsely. "I will ask him, and +do as he bids me. I cannot do anything unless it is as he bids me." + +"In this matter you must act on your own judgment, Nina." + +"No, I will not. I have no judgment. He must judge for me in +everything. If he says it is better that we should part, then--then-- +then I will let him go." + +After this Rebecca left the room and the house. Before she went, she +kissed the Christian girl; but Nina did not remember that she had been +kissed. Her mind was so full, not of thought, but of the suggestion +that had been made to her, that it could now take no impression from +anything else. She had been recommended to do a thing as her duty--as +a paramount duty towards him who was everything to her--the doing of +which it would be impossible that she should survive. So she told +herself when she was once more alone, and had again seated herself in +the chair by the window. She did not for a moment accuse Rebecca of +dealing unfairly with her. It never occurred to her as possible that +the Jewess had come to her with false views of her own fabrication. +Had she so believed, her suspicions would have done great injustice to +her rival; but no such idea presented itself to Nina's mind. All that +Rebecca had said to her had come to her as though it were gospel. She +did believe that Trendellsohn, as a Jew, would injure himself greatly +by marrying a Christian. She did believe that the Jews of Prague would +treat him somewhat as the Christians would treat herself. For herself +such treatment would be nothing, if she were but once married; but she +could understand that to him it would be ruinous. And Nina believed +also that Rebecca had been entirely disinterested in her mission--that +she came thither, not to gain a lover for herself, but to save from +injury the man she loved, without reference to her own passion. Nina +knew that Rebecca was strong and good, and acknowledged also that she +herself was weak and selfish. She thought that she ought to have been +persuaded to make the sacrifice, and once or twice she almost resolved +that she would follow Rebecca to the Jews' quarter and tell her that it +should be made. But she could not do it. Were she to do so, what would +be left to her? With him she could bear anything, everything. To starve +would hardly be bitter to her, so that his arm could be round her +waist, and that her head could be on his shoulder. And, moreover, was +she not his to do with as he pleased? After all her promises to him, +how could she take upon herself to dispose of herself otherwise than as +he might direct? + +But then some thought of the missing document came back upon her, and +she remembered in her grief that he suspected her--that even now he +had some frightful doubt as to her truth to him--her faith, which was, +alas, alas! more firm and bright towards him than towards that heavenly +Friend whose aid would certainly suffice to bring her through all her +troubles, if only she could bring herself to trust as she asked it. But +she could trust only in him, and he doubted her! Would it not be better +to do as Rebecca said, and make the most of such contentment as might +come to her from her triumph over herself? That would be better--ten +times better than to be abandoned by him--to be deserted by her Jew +lover, because the Jew would not trust her, a Christian! On either side +there could be nothing for her but death; but there is a choice even of +deaths. If she did the thing herself, she thought that there might be +something sweet even in the sadness of her last hour--something of the +flavour of sacrifice. But should it be done by him, in that way there +lay nothing but the madness of desolation! It was her last resolve, as +she still sat at the window counting the sparrows in the yard, that she +would tell him everything, and leave it to him to decide. If he would +say that it was better for them to part, then he might go; and Rebecca +Loth might become his wife, if he so wished it. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +On one of these days old Trendellsohn went to the office of Karil +Zamenoy, in the Ross Markt, with the full determination of learning in +truth what there might be to be learned as to that deed which would +be so necessary to him, or to those who would come after him, when +Josef Balatka might die. He accused himself of having been foolishly +soft-hearted in his transactions with this Christian, and reminded +himself from time to time that no Jew in Prague would have been so +treated by any Christian. And what was the return made to him? Among +them they had now secreted that of which he should have enforced the +rendering before he had parted with his own money; and this they did +because they knew that he would be unwilling to take harsh legal +proceedings against a bed-ridden old man! In this frame of mind he went +to the Ross Markt, and there he was assured over and over again by +Ziska Zamenoy--for Karil Zamenoy was not to be seen--that Nina Balatka +had the deed in her own keeping. The name of Nina Balatka was becoming +very grievous to the old man. Even he, when the matter had first been +broached to him, had not recognised all the evils which would come from +a marriage between his son and a Christian maiden; but of late his +neighbours had been around him, and he had looked into the thing, and +his eyes had been opened, and he had declared to himself that he would +not take a Christian girl into his house as his daughter-in-law. He +could not prevent the marriage. The law would be on his son's side. The +law of the Christian kingdom in which he lived allowed such marriages, +and Anton, if he executed the contract which would make the marriage +valid, would in truth be the girl's husband. But--and Trendellsohn, as +he remembered the power which was still in his hands, almost regretted +that he held it--if this thing were done, his son must go out from his +house, and be his son no longer. + +The old man was very proud of his son. Rebecca had said truly that no +Jew in Prague was so respected among Jews as Anton Trendellsohn. She +might have added, also, that none was more highly esteemed among +Christians. To lose such a son would be a loss indeed. "I will share +everything with him, and he shall go away out of Bohemia," Trendellsohn +had said to himself. "He has earned it, and he shall have it. He has +worked for me--for us both--without asking me, his father, to bind +myself with any bond. He shall have the wealth which is his own, but he +shall not have it here. Ah! if he would but take that other one as his +bride, he should have everything, and his father's blessing--and then +he would be the first instead of the last among his people." Such was +the purpose of Stephen Trendellsohn towards his son; but this, his real +purpose, did not hinder him from threatening worse things. To prevent +the marriage was his great object; and if threats would prevent it, why +should he not use them? + +But now he had conceived the idea that Nina was deceiving his son--that +Nina was in truth holding back the deed with some view which he could +hardly fathom. Ziska Zamenoy had declared, with all the emphasis in +his power, that the document was, to the best of his belief, in Nina's +hands; and though Ziska's emphasis would not have gone far in +convincing the Jew, had the Jew's mind been turned in the other +direction, now it had its effect. "And who gave it her?" Trendellsohn +had asked. "Ah, there you must excuse me," Ziska had answered; "though, +indeed, I could not tell you if I would. But we have nothing to do with +the matter. We have no claim upon the houses. It is between you and the +Balatkas." Then the Jew had left the Zamenoys' office, and had gone +home, fully believing that the deed was in Nina's hands. + +"Yes, it is so--she is deceiving you," he said to his son that evening. + +"No father. I think not." + +"Very well. You will find, when it is too late, that my words are true. +Have you ever known a Christian who thought it wrong to rob a Jew?" + +"I do not believe that Nina would rob me." + +"Ah! that is the confidence of what you call love. She is honest, you +think, because she has a pretty face." + +"She is honest, I think, because she loves me." + +"Bah! Does love make men honest, or women either? Do we not see every +day how these Christians rob each other in their money dealings when +they are marrying? What was the girl's name?--old Thibolski's daughter +--how they robbed her when they married her, and how her people tried +their best to rob the lad she married. Did we not see it all?" + +"It was not the girl who did it--not the girl herself." + +"Why should a woman be honester than a man? I tell you, Anton, that +this girl has the deed." + +"Ziska Zamenoy has told you so?" + +"Yes, he has told me. But I am not a man to be deceived because such a +one as Ziska wishes to deceive me. You, at least, know me better than +that. That which I tell you, Ziska himself believes." + +"But Ziska may believe wrongly." + +"Why should he do so? Whose interest can it be to make this thing seem +so, if it be not so? If the girl have the deed, you can get it more +readily from her than from the Zamenoys. Believe me, Anton, the deed is +with the girl." + +"If it be so, I shall never believe again in the truth of a human +being," said the son. + +"Believe in the truth of your own people," said the father. "Why should +you seek to be wiser than them all?" + +The father did not convince the son, but the words which he had spoken +helped to create a doubt which already had almost an existence of its +own. Anton Trendellsohn was prone to suspicions, and now was beginning +to suspect Nina, although he strove hard to keep his mind free from +such taint. His better nature told him that it was impossible that she +should deceive him. He had read the very inside of her heart, and knew +that her only delight was in his love. He understood perfectly the +weakness and faith and beauty of her feminine nature, and her trusting, +leaning softness was to his harder spirit as water to a thirsting +man in the desert. When she clung to him, promising to obey him in +everything, the touch of her hands, and the sound of her voice, and the +beseeching glance of her loving eyes, were food and drink to him. He +knew that her presence refreshed him and cooled him--made him young +as he was growing old, and filled his mind with sweet thoughts which +hardly came to him but when she was with him. He had told himself over +and over again that it must be good for him to have such a one for his +wife, whether she were Jew or Christian. He knew himself to be a better +man when she was with him than at other moments of his life. And then +he loved her. He was thinking of her hourly, though his impatience to +see her was not as hers to be with him. He loved her. But yet--yet-- +what if she should be deceiving him? To be able to deceive others, but +never to be deceived himself, was to him, unconsciously, the glory +which he desired. To be deceived was to be disgraced. What was all his +wit and acknowledged cunning if a girl--a Christian girl--could outwit +him? For himself, he could see clearly enough into things to be +aware that, as a rule, he could do better by truth than he could by +falsehood. He was not prone to deceive others. But in such matters he +desired ever to have the power with him to keep, as it were, the upper +hand. He would fain read the hearts of others entirely, and know their +wishes, and understand their schemes, whereas his own heart and his own +desires and his own schemes should only be legible in part. What if, +after all, he were unable to read the simple tablets of this girl's +mind--tablets which he had regarded as being altogether in his own +keeping? + +He went forth for a while, walking slowly through the streets, as he +thought of this, wandering without an object, but turning over in his +mind his father's words. He knew that his father was anxious to prevent +his marriage. He knew that every Jew around him--for now the Jews +around him had all heard of it--was keenly anxious to prevent so great +a disgrace. He knew all that his father had threatened, and he was well +aware how complete was his father's power. But he could stand against +all that, if only Nina were true to him. He would go away from Prague. +What did it matter? Prague was not all the world. There were cities +better, nobler, richer than Prague, in which his brethren, the Jews, +would not turn their backs upon him because he had married a Christian. +It might be that he would have to begin the world again; but for that, +too, he would be prepared. Nina had shown that she could bear poverty. +Nina's torn boots and threadbare dress, and the utter absence of any +request ever made with regard to her own comfort, had not been lost +upon him. He knew how noble she was in bearing--how doubly noble she +was in never asking. If only there was nothing of deceit at the back to +mar it all! + +He passed over the bridge, hardly knowing whither he was going, and +turned directly down towards Balatka's house. As he did so he observed +that certain repairs were needed in an adjoining building which +belonged to his father, and determined that a mason should be sent +there on the next day. Then he turned in under the archway, not passing +through it into the court, and there he stood looking up at the window, +in which Nina's small solitary lamp was twinkling. He knew that she was +sitting by the light, and that she was working. He knew that she would +be raised almost to a seventh heaven of delight if he would only call +her to the door and speak to her a dozen words before he returned to +his home. But he had no thought of doing it. Was it possible that she +should have this document in her keeping?--that was the thought that +filled his mind. He had bribed Lotta Luxa, and Lotta had sworn by her +Christian gods that the deed was in Nina's hands. If the thing was +false, why should they all conspire to tell the same falsehood? And yet +he knew that they were false in their natures. Their manner, the words +of each of them, betrayed something of falsehood to his well-tuned +ear, to his acute eye, to his sharp senses. But with Nina--from Nina +herself--everything that came from her spoke of truth. A sweet savour +of honesty hung about her breath, and was a blessing to him when he +was near enough to her to feel it. And yet he told himself that he was +bound to doubt. He stood for some half-hour in the archway, leaning +against the stonework at the side, and looking up at the window where +Nina was sitting. What was he to do? How should he carry himself in +this special period of his life? Great ideas about the destiny of his +people were mingled in his mind with suspicions as to Nina, of which he +should have been, and probably was, ashamed. He would certainly take +her away from Prague. He had already perceived that his marriage with a +Christian would be regarded in that stronghold of prejudice in which +he lived with so much animosity as to impede, and perhaps destroy, the +utility of his career. He would go away, taking Nina with him. And he +would be careful that she should never know, by a word or a look, that +he had in any way suffered for her sake. And he swore to himself that +he would be soft to her, and gentle, loving her with a love more +demonstrative than he had hitherto exhibited. He knew that he had been +stern, exacting, and sometimes harsh. All that should be mended. He had +learned her character, and perceived how absolutely she fed upon his +love; and he would take care that the food should always be there, +palpably there, for her sustenance. But--but he must try her yet once +more before all this could be done for her. She must pass yet once +again through the fire; and if then she should come forth as gold, she +should be to him the one pure ingot which the earth contained. With how +great a love would he not repay her in future days for all that she +would have suffered for his sake? + +But she must be made to go through the fire again. He would tax her +with the possession of the missing deed, and call upon her to cleanse +herself from the accusation which was made against her. Once again he +would be harsh with her--harsh in appearance only--in order that his +subsequent tenderness might be so much more tender! She had already +borne much, and she must be made to endure once again. Did not he mean +to endure much for her sake? Was he not prepared to recommence the +troubles and toil of his life all from the beginning, in order that +she might be that life's companion? Surely he had the right to put her +through the fire, and prove her as never gold was proved before. + +At last the little light was quenched, and Anton Trendellsohn felt +that he was alone. The unseen companion of his thoughts was no longer +with him, and it was useless for him to remain there standing in the +archway. He blew her a kiss from his lips, and blessed her in his +heart, and protested to himself that he knew she would come out of the +fire pure altogether and proved to be without dross. And then he went +his way. In the mean time Nina, chill and wretched, crept to her cold +bed, all unconscious of the happiness that had been so near her. "If he +thinks I can be false to him, it will be better to die," she said to +herself, as she drew the scanty clothing over her shivering shoulders. + +As she did so her lover walked home, and having come to a resolution +which was intended to be definite as to his love, he allowed his +thoughts to run away with him to other subjects. After all, it would +be no evil to him to leave Prague. At Prague how little was there of +progress either in thought or in things material! At Prague a Jew could +earn money, and become rich--might own half the city; and yet at Prague +he could only live as an outcast. As regarded the laws of the land, he, +as a Jew, might fix his residence anywhere in Prague or around Prague; +he might have gardens, and lands, and all the results of money; he +might put his wife into a carriage twice as splendid as that which +constituted the great social triumph of Madame Zamenoy--but so strong +against such a mode of life were the traditional prejudices of +both Jews and Christians, that any such fashion of living would be +absolutely impossible to him. It would not be good for him that he +should remain at Prague. Knowing his father as he did, he could not +believe that the old man would be so unjust as to let him go altogether +empty-handed. He had toiled, and had been successful; and something of +the corn which he had garnered would surely be rendered to him. With +this--or, if need be, without it--he and his Christian wife would go +forth and see if the world was not wide enough to find them a spot on +which they might live without the contempt of those around them. + +Though Nina had quenched her lamp and had gone to bed, it was not late +when Trendellsohn reached his home, and he knew that he should find his +father waiting for him. But his father was not alone. Rebecca Loth was +sitting with the old man, and they had just supped together when Anton +entered the room. Ruth Jacobi was also there, waiting till her friend +should go, before she also went to her bed. + +"How are you, Anton?" said Rebecca, giving her hand to the man she +loved. "It is strange to see you in these days." + +"The strangeness, Rebecca, comes from no fault of my own. Few men, I +fancy, are more constant to their homes than I am." + +"You sleep here and eat here, I daresay." + +"My business lies mostly out, about the town." + +"Have you been about business now, uncle Anton?" said Ruth. + +"Do not ask forward questions, Ruth," said the uncle. "Rebecca, I fear, +teaches you to forget that you are still a child." + +"Do not scold her," said the old man. "She is a good girl." + +"It is Anton that forgets that nature is making Ruth a young woman," +said Rebecca. + +"I do not want to be a young woman a bit before uncle Anton likes it," +said Ruth. "I don't mind waiting ever so long for him. When he is +married he will not care what I am." + +"If that be so, you may be a woman very soon," said Rebecca. + +"That is more than you know," said Anton, turning very sharply on her. +"What do you know of my marriage, or when it will be?" + +"Are you scolding her too?" said the elder Trendellsohn. + +"Nay, father; let him do so," said Rebecca. "He has known me long +enough to scold me if he thinks that I deserve it. You are gentle to me +and spoil me, and it is only well that one among my old friends should +be sincere enough to be ungentle." + +"I beg your pardon, Rebecca, if I have been uncourteous." + +"There can be no pardon where there is no offence." + +"If you are ashamed to hear of your marriage," said the father, "you +should be ashamed to think of it." + +Then there was silence for a few seconds before anyone spoke. The girls +did not dare to speak after words so serious from the father to the +son. It was known to both of them that Anton could hardly bring himself +to bear a rebuke even from his father, and they felt that such a rebuke +as this, given in their presence, would be altogether unendurable. +Every one in the room understood the exact position in which each +stood to the other. That Rebecca would willingly have become Anton's +wife, that she had refused various offers of marriage in order that +ultimately it might be so, was known to Stephen Trendellsohn, and to +Anton himself, and to Ruth Jacobi. There had not been the pretence of +any secret among them in the matter. But the subject was one which +could hardly be discussed by them openly. "Father," said Anton, after a +while, during which the black thunder-cloud which had for an instant +settled on his brow had managed to dispel itself without bursting into +a visible storm--"father, I am neither ashamed to think of my intended +marriage nor to speak of it. There is no question of shame. But it is +unpleasant to make such a subject matter of general conversation when +it is a source of trouble instead of joy among us. I wish I could have +made you happy by my marriage." + +"You will make me very wretched." + +"Then let us not talk about it. It cannot be altered. You would not +have me false to my plighted word?" + +Again there was silence for some minutes, and then Rebecca spoke--the +words coming from her in the lowest possible accents. + +"It can be altered without breach of your plighted word. Ask the young +woman what she herself thinks. You will find that she knows that you +are both wrong." + +"Of course she knows it," said the father. + +"I will ask her nothing of the kind," said the son. + +"It would be of no use," said Ruth. + +After this Rebecca rose to take her leave, saying something of the +falseness of her brother Samuel, who had promised to come for her and +to take her home. "But he is with Miriam Harter," said Rebecca, "and, +of course, he will forget me." + +"I will go home with you," said Anton. + +"Indeed you shall not. Do you think I cannot walk alone through our own +streets in the dark without being afraid?" + +"I am well aware that you are afraid of nothing; but nevertheless, if +you will allow me, I will accompany you." There was no sufficient cause +for her to refuse his company, and the two left the house together. + +As they descended the stairs, Rebecca determined that she would +have the first word in what might now be said between them. She had +suggested that this marriage with the Christian girl might be abandoned +without the disgrace upon Anton of having broken his troth, and she had +thereby laid herself open to a suspicion of having worked for her own +ends--of having done so with unmaidenly eagerness to gratify her own +love. Something on the subject must be said--would be said by him if +not by her--and therefore she would explain herself at once. She spoke +as soon as she found herself by his side in the street. "I regretted +what I said up-stairs, Anton, as soon as the words were out of my +mouth." + +"I do not know that you said anything to regret." + +"I told you that if in truth you thought this marriage to be wrong--" + +"Which I do not." + +"Pardon me, my friend, for a moment. If you had so thought, I said that +there was a mode of escape without falsehood or disgrace. In saying so +I must have seemed to urge you to break away from Nina Balatka." + +"You are all urging me to do that." + +"Coming from the others, such advice cannot even seem to have an +improper motive." Here she paused, feeling the difficulty of her task-- +aware that she could not conclude it without an admission which no +woman willingly makes. But she shook away the impediment, bracing +herself to the work, and went on steadily with her speech. "Coming from +me, such motive may be imputed--nay, it must be imputed." + +"No motive is imputed that is not believed by me to be good and healthy +and friendly." + +"Our friends," continued Rebecca, "have wished that you and I should be +husband and wife. That is now impossible." + +"It is impossible--because Nina will be my wife." + +"It is impossible, whether Nina should become your wife or should not +become your wife. I do not say this from any girlish pride. Before I +knew that you loved a Christian woman, I would willingly have been--as +our friends wished. You see I can trust you enough for candour. When +I was young they told me to love you, and I obeyed them. They told +me that I was to be your wife, and I taught myself to be happy in +believing them. I now know that they were wrong, and I will endeavour +to teach myself another happiness." + +"Rebecca, if I have been in fault--" + +"You have never been in fault. You are by nature too stern to fall into +such faults. It has been my misfortune--perhaps rather I should say +my difficulty--that till of late you have given me no sign by which I +could foresee my lot. I was still young, and I still believed what they +told me, even though you did not come to me as lovers come. Now I know +it all; and as any such thoughts--or wishes, if you will--as those I +used to have can never return to me, I may perhaps be felt by you to be +free to use what liberty of counsel old friendship may give me. I know +you will not misunderstand me--and that is all. Do not come further +with me." + +He called to her, but she was gone, escaping from him with quick +running feet through the dark night; and he returned to his father's +house, thinking of the girl that had left him. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Again some days passed by without any meeting between Nina and her +lover, and things were going very badly with the Balatkas in the old +house. The money that had come from the jeweller was not indeed all +expended, but Nina looked upon it as her last resource, till marriage +should come to relieve her; and the time of her marriage seemed to be +as far from her as ever. So the kreutzers were husbanded as only a +woman can husband them, and new attempts were made to reduce the little +expenses of the little household. + +"Souchey, you had better go. You had indeed," said Nina. "We cannot +feed you." Now Souchey had himself spoken of leaving them some days +since, urged to do so by his Christian indignation at the abominable +betrothal of his mistress. "You said the other day that you would do +so, and it will be better." + +"But I shall not." + +"Then you will be starved." + +"I am starved already, and it cannot be worse. I dined yesterday on +what they threw out to the dogs in the meat-market." + +"And where will you dine to-day?" + +"Ah, I shall dine better to-day. I shall get a meal in the +Windberg-gasse." + +"What! at my aunt's house?" + +"Yes; at your aunt's house. They live well there, even in the kitchen. +Lotta will have for me some hot soup, a mess of cabbage, and a sausage. +I wish I could bring it away from your aunt's house to the old man and +yourself." + +"I would sooner fall in the gutter than eat my aunt's meat." + +"That is all very fine for you, but I am not going to marry a Jewess. +Why should I quarrel with your aunt, or with Lotta Luxa? If you would +give up the Jew, Nina, your aunt's house would be open to you; yes--and +Ziska's house." + +"I will not give up the Jew," said Nina, with flashing eyes. + +"I suppose not. But what will you do when he gives you up? What if +Ziska then should not be so forward?" + +"Of all those who are my enemies, and whom I hate because they are so +cruel, I hate Ziska the worst. Go and tell him so, since you are +becoming one of them. In doing so much you cannot at any rate do me +harm." + +Then she took herself off, forgetting in her angry spirit the +prudential motives which had induced her to begin the conversation with +Souchey. But Souchey, though he was going to Madame Zamenoy's house to +get his dinner, and was looking forward with much eagerness to the mess +of hot cabbage and the cold sausage, had by no means become "one of +them" in the Windberg-gasse. He had had more than one interview of late +with Lotta Luxa, and had perceived that something was going on, of +which he much desired to be at the bottom. Lotta had some scheme, which +she was half willing and half unwilling to reveal to him, by which she +hoped to prevent the threatened marriage between Nina and the Jew. Now +Souchey was well enough inclined to take a part in such a scheme-- +provided it did not in any way make him a party with the Zamenoys in +things general against the Balatkas. It was his duty as a Christian-- +though he himself was rather slack in the performance of his own +religious duties--to put a stop to this horrible marriage if he could +do so; but it behoved him to be true to his master and mistress, and +especially true to them in opposition to the Zamenoys. He had in some +sort been carrying on a losing battle against the Zamenoys all his +life, and had some of the feelings of a martyr, telling himself that +he had lost a rich wife by doing so. He would go on this occasion and +eat his dinner and be very confidential with Lotta; but he would be +very discreet, would learn more than he told, and, above all, would not +betray his master or mistress. + +Soon after he was gone, Anton Trendellsohn came over to the Kleinseite, +and, ringing at the bell of the house, received admission from Nina +herself. "What! you, Anton?" she said, almost jumping into his arms, +and then restraining herself. "Will you come up? It is so long since I +have seen you." + +"Yes--it is long. I hope the time is soon coming when there shall be no +more of such separation." + +"Is it? Is it indeed?" + +"I trust it is." + +"I suppose as a maiden I ought to be coy, and say that I would prefer +to wait; but, dearest love, sorrow and trouble have banished all that. +You will not love me less because I tell you that I count the minutes +till I may be your wife." + +"No; I do not love you less on that account. I would have you be true +and faithful in all things." + +Though the words themselves were assuring, there was something in the +tone of his voice which repressed her. "To you I am true and faithful +in all things; as faithful as though you were already my husband. What +were you saying of a time that is soon coming?" + +He did not answer her question, but turned the subject away into +another channel. "I have brought something for you," he said--"something +which I hope you will be glad to have." + +"Is it a present? she asked. As yet he had never given her anything +that she could call a gift, and it was to her almost a matter of pride +that she had taken nothing from her Jew lover, and that she would take +nothing till it should be her right to take everything. + +"Hardly a present; but you shall look at it as you will. You remember +Rapinsky, do you not?" Now Rapinsky was the jeweller in the Grosser +Ring, and Nina, though she well remembered the man and the shop, did +not at the moment remember the name. "You will not have forgotten this +at any rate," said Trendellsohn, bringing the necklace from out of his +pocket. + +"How did you get it?" said Nina, not putting out her hand to take it, +but looking at it as it lay upon the table. + +"I thought you would be glad to have it back again." + +"I should be glad if--" + +"If what? Will it be less welcome because it comes through my hands?" + +"The man lent me money upon it, and you must have paid the money." + +"What if I have? I like your pride, Nina; but be not too proud. Of +course I have paid the money. I know Rapinsky, who deals with us often. +I went to him after you spoke to me, and got it back again. There is +your mother's necklace." + +"I am sorry for this, Anton." + +"Why sorry?" + +"We are so poor that I shall be driven to take it elsewhere again. I +cannot keep such a thing in the house while father wants. But better he +should want than--" + +"Than what, Nina?" + +"There would be something like cheating in borrowing money on the same +thing twice." + +"Then put it by, and I will be your lender." + +"No; I will not borrow from you. You are the only one in the world that +I could never repay. I cannot borrow from you. Keep this thing, and if +I am ever your wife, then you shall give it me." + +"If you are ever my wife?" + +"Is there no room for such an if? I hope there is not, Anton. I wish it +were as certain as the sun's rising. But people around us are so cruel! +It seems, sometimes, as though the world were against us. And then you, +yourself--" + +"What of me myself, Nina?" + +"I do not think you trust me altogether; and unless you trust me, I +know you will not make me your wife." + +"That is certain; and yet I do not doubt that you will be my wife." + +"But do you trust me? Do you believe in your heart of hearts that I +know nothing of that paper for which you are searching?" She paused +for a reply, but he did not at once make any. "Tell me," she went +on saying, with energy, "are you sure that I am true to you in that +matter, as in all others? Though I were starving--and it is nearly so +with me already--and though I loved you beyond even all heaven, as I +do, I do--I would not become your wife if you doubted me in any tittle. +Say that you doubt me, and then it shall be all over." Still he did not +speak. "Rebecca Loth will be a fitter wife for you than I can be," said +Nina. + +"If you are not my wife, I shall never have a wife," said Trendellsohn. + +In her ecstasy of delight, as she heard these words, she took up his +hand and kissed it; but she dropped it again, as she remembered that +she had not yet received the assurance that she needed. "But you do +believe me about this horrid paper?" + +It was necessary that she should be made to go again through the fire. +In deliberate reflection he had made himself aware that such necessity +still existed. It might be that she had some inner reserve as to duty +towards her father. There was, possibly, some reason which he could +not fathom why she should still keep something back from him in this +matter. He did not, in truth, think that it was so, but there was the +chance. There was the chance, and he could not bear to be deceived. He +felt assured that Ziska Zamenoy and Lotta Luxa believed that this deed +was in Nina's keeping. Indeed, he was assured that all the household of +the Zamenoys so believed. "If there be a God above us, it is there," +Lotta had said, crossing herself. He did not think it was there; he +thought that Lotta was wrong, and that all the Zamenoys were wrong, by +some mistake which he could not fathom; but still there was the chance, +and Nina must be made to bear this additional calamity. + +"Do you think it impossible," said he, "that you should have it among +your own things?" + +"What! without knowing that I have it?" she asked. + +"It may have come to you with other papers," he said, "and you may not +quite have understood its nature." + +"There, in that desk, is every paper that I have in the world. You +can look if you suspect me. But I shall not easily forgive you for +looking." Then she threw down the key of her desk upon the table. He +took it up and fingered it, but did not move towards the desk. "The +greatest treasure there," she said, "are scraps of your own, which I +have been a fool to value, as they have come from a man who does not +trust me." + +He knew that it would be useless for him to open the desk. If she were +secreting anything from him, she was not hiding it there. "Might it not +possibly be among your clothes?" he asked. + +"I have no clothes," she answered, and then strode off across the wide +room towards the door of her father's apartment. But after she had +grasped the handle of the door, she turned again upon her lover. "It +may, however, be well that you should search my chamber and my bed. If +you will come with me, I will show you the door. You will find it to be +a sorry place for one who was your affianced bride." + +"Who _is_ my affianced bride," said Trendellsohn. + +"No, sir!--who was, but is so no longer. You will have to ask my +pardon, at my feet, before I will let you speak to me again as my +lover. Go and search. Look for your deed--and then you shall see that +I will tear out my own heart rather than submit to the ill-usage of +distrust from one who owes me so much faith as you do." + +"Nina," he said. + +"Well, sir." + +"I do trust you." + +"Yes--with a half trust--with one eye closed, while the other is +watching me. You think you have so conquered me that I will be good to +you, and yet cannot keep yourself from listening to those who whisper +that I am bad to you. Sir, I fear they have been right when they told +me that a Jew's nature would surely shock me at last." + +The dark frowning cloud, which she had so often observed with fear, +came upon his brow; but she did not fear him now. "And do you too taunt +me with my religion?" he said. + +"No, not so--not with your religion, Anton; but with your nature." + +"And how can I help my nature?" + +"I suppose you cannot help it, and I am wrong to taunt you. I should +not have taunted you. I should only have said that I will not endure +the suspicion either of a Christian or of a Jew." + +He came up to her now, and put out his arm as though he were about to +embrace her. "No," she said; "not again, till you have asked my pardon +for distrusting me, and have given me your solemn word that you +distrust me no longer." + +He paused a moment in doubt, then put his hat on his head and prepared +to leave her. She had behaved very well, but still he would not be weak +enough to yield to her in everything at once. As to opening her desk, +or going up-stairs into her room, that he felt to be quite impossible. +Even his nature did not admit of that. But neither did his nature allow +him to ask her pardon and to own that he had been wrong. She had said +that he must implore her forgiveness at her feet. One word, however, +one look, would have sufficed. But that word and that look were, at the +present moment, out of his power. "Good-bye, Nina," he said. "It is +best that I should leave you now." + +"By far the best; and you will take the necklace with you, if you +please." + +"No; I will leave that. I cannot keep a trinket that was your +mother's." + +"Take it, then, to the jeweller's, and get back your money. It shall +not be left here. I will have nothing from your hands." He was so far +cowed by her manner that he took up the necklace and left the house, +and Nina was once more alone. + +What they had told her of her lover was after all true. That was the +first idea that occurred to her as she sat in her chair, stunned by +the sorrow that had come upon her. They had dinned into her ears their +accusations, not against the man himself, but against the tribe to +which he belonged, telling her that a Jew was, of his very nature, +suspicious, greedy, and false. She had perceived early in her +acquaintance with Anton Trendellsohn that he was clever, ambitious, +gifted with the power of thinking as none others whom she knew could +think; and that he had words at his command, and was brave, and was +endowed with a certain nobility of disposition which prompted him to +wish for great results rather than for small advantages. All this had +conquered her, and had made her resolve to think that a Jew could be as +good as a Christian. But now, when the trial of the man had in truth +come, she found that those around her had been right in what they had +said. How base must be the nature which could prompt a man to suspect +a girl who had been true to him as Nina had been true to her lover! + +She would never see him again--never! He had left the room without even +answering the question which she had asked him. He would not even say +that he trusted her. It was manifest that he did not trust her, and +that he believed at this moment that she was endeavouring to rob him in +this matter of the deed. He had asked her if she had it in her desk or +among her clothes, and her very soul revolted from the suspicion so +implied. She would never speak to him again. It was all over. No; she +would never willingly speak to him again. + +But what would she do? For a few minutes she fell back, as is so +natural with mortals in trouble, upon that religion which she had been +so willing to outrage by marrying the Jew. She went to a little drawer +and took out a string of beads which had lain there unused since she +had been made to believe that the Virgin and the saints would not +permit her marriage with Anton Trendellsohn. She took out the beads-- +but she did not use them. She passed no berries through her fingers to +check the number of prayers said, for she found herself unable to say +any prayer at all. If he would come back to her, and ask her pardon-- +ask it in truth at her feet--she would still forgive him, regardless +of the Virgin and the saints. And if he did not come back, what was +the fate that Lotta Luxa had predicted for her, and to which she had +acknowledged to herself that she would be driven to submit? In either +case how could she again come to terms with St John and St Nicholas? +And how was she to live? Should she lose her lover, as she now told +herself would certainly be her fate, what possibility of life was left +to her? From day to day and from week to week she had put off to a +future hour any definite consideration of what she and her father +should do in their poverty, believing that it might be postponed till +her marriage would make all things easy. Her future mode of living +had often been discussed between her and her lover, and she had been +candid enough in explaining to him that she could not leave her father +desolate. He had always replied that his wife's father should want for +nothing, and she had been delighted to think that she could with joy +accept that from her husband which nothing would induce her to accept +from her lover. This thought had sufficed to comfort her, as the evil +of absolute destitution was close upon her. Surely the day of her +marriage would come soon. + +But now it seemed to her to be certain that the day of her marriage +would never come. All those expectations must be banished, and she must +look elsewhere--if elsewhere there might be any relief. She knew well +that if she would separate herself from the Jew, the pocket of her aunt +would be opened to relieve the distress of her father--would be opened +so far as to save the old man from perishing of want. Aunt Sophie, if +duly invoked, would not see her sister's husband die of starvation. +Nay, aunt Sophie would doubtless so far stretch her Christian charity +as to see that her niece was in some way fed, if that niece would be +duly obedient. Further still, aunt Sophie would accept her niece as +the very daughter of her house, as the rising mistress of her own +establishment, if that niece would only consent to love her son. Ziska +was there as a husband in Anton's place, if Ziska might only gain +acceptance. + +But Nina, as she rose from her chair and walked backwards and forwards +through her chamber, telling herself all these things, clenched her +fist, and stamped her foot, as she swore to herself that she would +dare all that the saints could do to her, that she would face all the +terrors of the black dark river, before she would succumb to her cousin +Ziska. As she worked herself into wrath, thinking now of the man she +loved, and then of the man she did not love, she thought that she could +willingly perish--if it were not that her father lay there so old +and so helpless. Gradually, as she magnified to herself the terrible +distresses of her heart, the agony of her yearning love for a man who, +though he loved her, was so unworthy of her perfect faith, she began to +think that it would be well to be carried down by the quick, eternal, +almighty stream beyond the reach of the sorrow which encompassed her. +When her father should leave her she would be all alone--alone in the +world, without a friend to regard her, or one living human being on +whom she, a girl, might rely for protection, shelter, or even for a +morsel of bread. Would St Nicholas cover her from the contumely of the +world, or would St John of the Bridges feed her? Did she in her heart +of hearts believe that even the Virgin would assist her in such a +strait? No; she had no such belief. It might be that such real belief +had never been hers. She hardly knew. But she did know that now, in the +hour of her deep trouble, she could not say her prayers and tell her +beads, and trust valiantly that the goodness of heaven would suffice to +her in her need. + +In the mean time Souchey had gone off to the Windberg-gasse, and had +gladdened himself with the soup, with the hot mess of cabbage and the +sausage, supplied by Madame Zamenoy's hospitality. The joys of such a +moment are unknown to any but those who, like Souchey, have been driven +by circumstances to sit at tables very ill supplied. On the previous +day he had fed upon offal thrown away from a butcher's stall, and habit +had made such feeding not unfamiliar to him. As he walked from the +Kleinseite through the Old Town to Madame Zamenoy's bright-looking +house in the New Town, he had comforted himself greatly with thoughts +of the coming feast. The representation which his imagination made to +him of the banquet sufficed to produce happiness, and he went along +hardly envying any man. His propensities at the moment were the +propensities of a beast. And yet he was submitting himself to the +terrible poverty which made so small a matter now a matter of joy to +him, because there was a something of nobility within him which made +him true to the master who had been true to him, when they had both +been young together. Even now he resolved, as he sharpened his teeth, +that through all the soup and all the sausage he would be true to the +Balatkas. He would be true even to Nina Balatka--though he recognised +it as a paramount duty to do all in his power to save her from the Jew. + +He was seated at the table in the kitchen almost as soon as he had +entered the house in the Windberg-gasse, and found his plate full +before him. Lotta had felt that there was no need of the delicacy of +compliment in feeding a man who was so undoubtedly hungry, and she had +therefore bade him at once fall to. "A hearty meal is a thing you are +not used to," she had said, "and it will do your old bones a deal of +good." The address was not complimentary, especially as coming from a +lady in regard to whom he entertained tender feelings; but Souchey +forgave the something of coarse familiarity which the words displayed, +and, seating himself on the stool before the victuals, gave play to the +feelings of the moment. "There's no one to measure what's left of the +sausage," said Lotta, instigating him to new feats. + +"Ain't there now?" said Souchey, responding to the sound of the +trumpet. "I always thought she had the devil's own eye in looking after +what was used in the kitchen." + +"The devil himself winks sometimes," said Lotta, cutting another +half-inch off from the unconsumed fragment, and picking the skin from +the meat with her own fair fingers. Hitherto Souchey had been regardless +of any such niceness in his eating, the skin having gone with the rest; +but now he thought that the absence of the outside covering and the +touch of Lotta's fingers were grateful to his appetite. + +"Souchey," said Lotta, when he had altogether done, and had turned his +stool round to the kitchen fire, "where do you think Nina would go if +she were to marry--a Jew?" There was an abrupt solemnity in the manner +of the question which at first baffled the man, whose breath was heavy +with the comfortable repletion which had been bestowed upon him. + +"Where would she go to?" he said, repeating Lotta's words. + +"Yes, Souchey, where would she go to? Where would be her eternal home? +What would become of her soul? Do you know that not a priest in Prague +would give her absolution though she were on her dying bed? Oh, holy +Mary, it's a terrible thing to think of! It's bad enough for the old +man and her to be there day after day without a morsel to eat; and I +suppose if it were not for Anton Trendellsohn it would be bad enough +with them--" + +"Not a gulden, then, has Nina ever taken from the Jew--nor the value of +a gulden, as far as I can judge between them." + +"What matters that, Souchey? Is she not engaged to him as his wife? Can +anything in the world be so dreadful? Don't you know she'll be--damned +for ever and ever?" Lotta, as she uttered the terrible words, brought +her face close to Souchey's, looking into his eyes with a fierce glare. +Souchey shook his head sorrowfully, owning thereby that his knowledge +in the matter of religion did not go to the point indicated by Lotta +Luxa. "And wouldn't anything, then, be a good deed that would prevent +that?" + +"It's the priests that should do it among them." + +"But the priests are not the men they used to be, Souchey. And it is +not exactly their fault neither. There are so many folks about in these +days who care nothing who goes to glory and who does not, and they are +too many for the priests." + +"If the priests can't fight their own battle, I can't fight it for +them," said Souchey. + +"But for the old family, Souchey, that you have known so long! Look +here; you and I between us can prevent it." + +"And how is it to be done?" + +"Ah! that's the question. If I felt that I was talking to a real +Christian that had a care for the poor girl's soul, I would tell you in +a moment." + +"So I am; only her soul isn't my business." + +"Then I cannot tell you this. I can't do it unless you acknowledge that +her welfare as a Christian is the business of us all. Fancy, Souchey, +your mistress married to a filthy Jew!" + +"For the matter of that, he isn't so filthy neither." + +"An abominable Jew! But, Souchey, she will never fall out with him. We +must contrive that he shall quarrel with her. If she had a thing about +her that he did not want her to have, couldn't you contrive that he +should know it?" + +"What sort of thing? Do you mean another lover, like?" + +"No, you gander. If there was anything of that sort I could manage it +myself. But if she had a thing locked up--away from him, couldn't you +manage to show it to him? He's very generous in rewarding, you know." + +"I don't want to have anything to do with it," said Souchey, getting up +from his stool and preparing to take his departure. Though he had been +so keen after the sausage, he was above taking a bribe in such a matter +as this. + +"Stop, Souchey, stop. I didn't think that I should ever have to ask +anything of you in vain." + +Then she put her face very close to his, so that her lips touched his +ear, and she laid her hand heavily upon his arm, and she was very +confidential. Souchey listened to the whisper till his face grew longer +and longer. "'Tis for her soul," said Lotta--"for her poor soul's sake. +When you can save her by raising your hand, would you let her be damned +for ever?" + +But she could exact no promise from Souchey except that he would keep +faith with her, and that he would consider deeply the proposal made to +him. Then there was a tender farewell between them, and Souchey +returned to the Kleinseite. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +For two days after this Nina heard nothing from the Jews' quarter, and +in her terrible distress her heart almost became softened towards the +man who had so deeply offended her. She began to tell herself, in the +weariness of her sorrow, that men were different from women, and, of +their nature, more suspicious; that no woman had a right to expect +every virtue in her lover, and that no woman had less of such right +than she herself, who had so little to give in return for all that +Anton proposed to bestow upon her. She began to think that she could +forgive him, even for his suspicion, if he would only come to be +forgiven. But he came not, and it was only too plain to her that she +could not be the first to go to him after what had passed between them. +And then there fell another crushing sorrow upon her. Her father was +ill--so ill that he was like to die. The doctor came to him--some son +of Galen who had known the merchant in his prosperity--and, with kind +assurances, told Nina that her father, though he could pay nothing, +should have whatever assistance medical attention could give him; but +he said, at the same time, that medical attention could give no aid +that would be of permanent service. The light had burned down in the +socket, and must go out. The doctor took Nina by the hand, and put his +own hand upon her soft tresses, and spoke kind words to console her. +And then he said that the sick man ought to take a few glasses of wine +every day; and as he was going away, turned back again, and promised +to send the wine from his own house. Nina thanked him, and plucked up +something of her old spirit during his presence, and spoke to him as +though she had no other care than that of her father's health; but as +soon as the doctor was gone she thought again of her Jew lover. That +her father should die was a great grief. But when she should be alone +in the old house, with the corpse lying on the bed, would Anton +Trendellsohn come to her then? + +He did not come to her now, though he knew of her father's illness. She +sent Souchey to the Jews' quarter to tell the sad news--not to him, but +to old Trendellsohn. "For the sake of the property it is right that he +should know," Nina said to herself, excusing to herself on this plea +her weakness in sending any message to the house of Anton Trendellsohn +till he should have come and asked her pardon. But even after this he +came not. She listened to every footstep that entered the courtyard. +She could not keep herself from going to the window, and from looking +into the square. Surely now, in her deep sorrow, in her solitude, he +would come to her. He would come and say one word--that he did trust +her, that he would trust her! But no; he came not at all; and the hours +of the day and the night followed slowly and surely upon each other, as +she sat by her father's bed watching the last quiver of the light in +the socket. + +But though Trendellsohn did not come himself, there came to her a +messenger from the Jew's house--a messenger from the Jew's house, but +not a messenger from Anton Trendellsohn. "Here is a girl from the-- +Jew," said Souchey, whispering into her ear as she sat at her father's +bedside--"one of themselves. Shall I tell her to go away, because he +is so ill?" And Souchey pointed to his master's head on the pillow. +"She has got a basket, but she can leave that." + +Nina, however, was by no means inclined to send the Jewess away, +rightly guessing that the stranger was her friend Ruth. "Stop here, +Souchey, and I will go to her," Nina said. "Do not leave him till I +return. I will not be long." She would not have let a dog go without a +word that had come from Anton's house or from Anton's presence. Perhaps +he had written to her. If there were but a line to say, "Pardon me; I +was wrong," everything might yet be right. But Ruth Jacobi was the +bearer of no note from Anton, nor indeed had she come on her present +message with her uncle's knowledge. She had put a heavy basket on the +table, and now, running forward, took Nina by the hands, and kissed +her. + +"We have been so sorry, all of us, to hear of your father's illness," +said Ruth. + +"Father is very ill," said Nina. "He is dying." + +"Nay, Nina; it may be that he is not dying. Life and death both are in +the hands of God." + +"Yes; it is in God's hands of course; but the doctor says that he will +die." + +"The doctors have no right to speak in that way," said Ruth, "for how +can they know God's pleasure? It may be that he will recover." + +"Yes; it may be," said Nina. "It is good of you to come to me, Ruth. +I am so glad you have come. Have you any--any--message?" If he would +only ask to be forgiven through Ruth, or even if he had sent a word +that might be taken to show that he wished to be forgiven, it should +suffice. + +"I have--brought--a few things in a basket," said Ruth, almost +apologetically. + +Then Nina lifted the basket. "You did not surely carry this through the +streets?" + +"I had Shadrach, our boy, with me. He carried it. It is not from me, +exactly; though I have been so glad to come with it." + +"And who sent it?" said Nina, quickly, with her fingers trembling on +its lid. If Anton had thought to send anything to her, that anything +should suffice. + +"It was Rebecca Loth who thought of it, and who asked me to come," said +Ruth. + +Then Nina drew back her fingers as though they were burned, and walked +away from the table with quick angry steps. "Why should Rebecca Loth +send anything to me?" she said. "What is there in the basket?" + +"She has written a little line. It is at the top. But she has asked me +to say--" + +"What has she asked you to say? Why should she say anything to me?" + +"Nay, Nina; she is very good, and she loves you." + +"I do not want her love." + +"I am to say to you that she has heard of your distress, and she hopes +that a girl like you will let a girl like her do what she can to +comfort you." + +"She cannot comfort me." + +"She bade me say that if she were ill or in sorrow, there is no hand +from which she would so gladly take comfort as from yours--for the +sake, she said, of a mutual friend." + +"I have no--friend," said Nina. + +"Oh, Nina, am not I your friend? Do not I love you?" + +"I do not know. If you do love me now, you must cease to love me. You +are a Jewess, and I am a Christian, and we must live apart. You, at +least, must live. I wish you would tell the boy that he may take back +the basket." + +"There are things in it for your father, Nina; and, Nina, surely you +will read Rebecca's note?" + +Then Ruth went to the basket, and from the top she took out Rebecca's +letter, and gave it to Nina, and Nina read it. It was as follows: + + I shall always regard you as very dear to me, because our hearts + have been turned in the same way. It may not be perhaps that we + shall know each other much at first; but I hope the days may come + when we shall be much older than we are now, and that then we may + meet and be able to talk of what has passed without pain. I do not + know why a Jewess and a Christian woman should not be friends. + + I have sent a few things which may perhaps be of comfort to your + father. In pity to me do not refuse them. They are such as one + woman should send to another. And I have added a little trifle + for your own use. At the present moment you are poor as to money, + though so rich in the gifts which make men love. On my knees before + you I ask you to accept from my hand what I send, and to think of + me as one who would serve you in more things if it were possible. + Yours, if you will let me, affectionately, REBECCA. + + I see when I look at them that the shoes will be too big. + +She stood for a while apart from Ruth, with the open note in her hand, +thinking whether or no she would accept the gifts which had been sent. +The words which Rebecca had written had softened her heart, especially +those in which the Jewess had spoken openly to her of her poverty. "At +the present moment you are poor as to money," the girl had said, and +had said it as though such poverty were, after all, but a small thing +in their relative positions one to another. That Nina should be loved, +and Rebecca not loved, was a much greater thing. For her father's sake +she would take the things sent--and for Rebecca's sake. She would take +even the shoes, which she wanted so sorely. She remembered well, as she +read the last word, how, when Rebecca had been with her, she herself +had pointed to the poor broken slippers which she wore, not meaning to +excite such compassion as had now been shown. Yes, she would accept it +all--as one woman should take such things from another. + +"You will not make Shadrach carry them back?" said Ruth, imploring her. + +"But he--has he sent nothing?--not a word?" She would have thought +herself to be utterly incapable, before Ruth had come, of showing so +much weakness; but her reserve gave way as she admitted in her own +heart the kindness of Rebecca, and she became conquered and humbled. +She was so terribly in want of his love at this moment! "And has he +sent no word of a message to me?" + +"I did not tell him that I was coming." + +"But he knows--he knows that father is so ill." + +"Yes; I suppose he has heard that, because Souchey came to the house. +But he has been out of temper with us all, and unhappy, for some days +past. I know that he is unhappy when he is so harsh with us." + +"And what has made him unhappy? + +"Nay, I cannot tell you that. I thought perhaps it was because you did +not come to him. You used to come and see us at our house." + +Dear Ruth! Dearest Ruth, for saying such dear words! She had done more +than Rebecca by the sweetness of the suggestion. If it were really the +case that he were unhappy because they had parted from each other in +anger, no further forgiveness would be necessary. + +"But how can I come, Ruth?" she said. "It is he that should come to +me." + +"You used to come." + +"Ah, yes. I came first with messages from father, and then because I +loved to hear him talk to me. I do not mind telling you, Ruth, now. And +then I came because--because he said I was to be his wife. I thought +that if I was to be his wife it could not be wrong that I should go to +his father's house. But now that so many people know it--that they talk +about it so much--I cannot go to him now." + +"But you are not ashamed of being engaged to him--because he is a Jew?" + +"No," said Nina, raising herself to her full height; "I am not ashamed +of him. I am proud of him. To my thinking there is no man like him. +Compare him and Ziska, and Ziska becomes hardly a man at all. I am very +proud to think that he has chosen me." + +"That is well spoken, and I shall tell him." + +"No, you must not tell him, Ruth. Remember that I talk to you as a +friend, and not as a child." + +"But I will tell him, because then his brow will become smooth, and he +will be happy. He likes to think that people know him to be clever; and +he will be glad to be told that you understand him." + +"I think him greater and better than all men; but, Ruth, you must not +tell him what I say--not now, at least--for a reason." + +"What reason, Nina?" + +"Well; I will tell you, though I would not tell anyone else in the +world. When we parted last I was angry with him--very angry with him." + +"He had been scolding you, perhaps?" + +"I should not mind that--not in the least. He has a right to scold me." + +"He has a right to scold me, I suppose; but I mind it very much." + +"But he has no right to distrust me, Ruth. I wish he could see my heart +and all my mind, and know every thought in my breast, and then he would +feel that he could trust me. I would not deceive him by a word or a +look for all the world. He does not know how true I am to him, and that +kills me." + +"I will tell him everything." + +"No, Ruth; tell him nothing. If he cannot find it out without being +told, telling will do no good. If you thought a person was a thief, +would you change your mind because the person told you he was honest? +He must find it out for himself if he is ever to know it." + +When Ruth was gone, Nina knew that she had been comforted. To have +spoken about her lover was in itself much; and to have spoken about him +as she had done seemed almost to have brought him once more near to +her. Ruth had declared that Anton was sad, and had suggested to Nina +that the cause of his sadness was the same as her own. There could not +but be comfort in this. If he really wished to see her, would he not +come over to the Kleinseite? There could be no reason why he should not +visit the girl he intended to marry, and whom he was longing to see. Of +course he had business which must occupy his time. He could not give up +every moment to thoughts of love, as she could do. She told herself all +this, and once more endeavoured to be comforted. + +And then she unpacked the basket. There were fresh eggs, and a quantity +of jelly, and some soup in a jug ready to be made hot, and such +delicacies as invalids will eat when their appetites will serve for +nothing else. And Nina, as she took these things out, thought only of +her father. She took them as coming for him altogether, without any +reference to her own use. But at the bottom of the basket there were +stockings, and a handkerchief or two, and a petticoat, and a pair of +shoes. Should she throw them out among the ashes behind the kitchen, or +should she press them to her bosom as treasures to be loved as long as +a single thread of them might hang together? She had taken such alms +before--from her aunt Sophie--taking them in bitterness of spirit, and +wearing them as though they were made of sackcloth, very sore to the +skin. The acceptance of such things, even from her aunt, had been gall +to her; but, in the old days, no idea of refusing them had come to her. +Of course she must submit herself to her aunt's charity, because of her +father's poverty. And garments had come to her which were old and worn, +bearing unmistakable signs of Lotta's coarse but reparative energies-- +raiment against which her feminine niceness would have rebelled, had it +been possible for her, in her misfortunes, to indulge her feminine +niceness. + +But there was a sweet scent of last summer's roses on the things which +now lay in her lap, and each article was of the best; and, though each +had been worn, they were all such as one girl would lend to another who +was her dearest friend--who was to be made welcome to the wardrobe as +though it were her own. There was something of the tenderness of love +in the very folding, and respect as well as friendship in the care of +the packing. Her aunt's left-off clothes had come to her in a big roll, +fastened with a corking-pin. But Rebecca, with delicate fingers, had +made each article of her tribute to look pretty, as though for the +dress of such a one as Nina prettiness and care must always be needed. +It was not possible for her to refuse a present sent to her with so +many signs of tenderness. + +And then she tried on the shoes. Of all the things she needed these +were the most necessary. At her first glance she thought that they were +new; but she perceived that they had been worn, and she liked them the +better on that account. She put her feet into them and found that they +were in truth a little too large for her. And this, even this, tended +in some sort to gratify her feelings and soothe the asperity of her +grief. "It is only a quarter of a size," she said to herself, as she +held up her dress that she might look at her feet. And thus she +resolved that she would accept her rival's kindness. + +On the following morning the priest came--that Father Jerome whom she +had known as a child, and from whom she had been unable to obtain +ghostly comfort since she had come in contact with the Jew. Her aunt +and her father, Souchey and Lotta Luxa, had all threatened her with +Father Jerome; and when it had become manifest to her that it would be +necessary that the priest should visit her father in his extremity, she +had at first thought that it would be well for her to hide herself. +But the cowardice of this had appeared to her to be mean, and she had +resolved that she would meet her old friend at her father's bedside. +After all, what would his bitterest words be to her after such words +as she had endured from her lover? + +Father Jerome came, and she received him in the parlour. She received +him with downcast eyes and a demeanour of humility, though she was +resolved to flare up against him if he should attack her too cruelly. +But the man was as mild to her and as kind as ever he had been in her +childhood, when he would kiss her, and call her his little nun, and +tell her that if she would be a good girl she should always have a +white dress and roses at the festival of St Nicholas. He put his hand +on her head and blessed her, and did not seem to have any abhorrence of +her because she was going to marry a Jew. And yet he knew it. + +He asked a few words as to her father, who was indeed better on this +morning than he had been for the last few days, and then he passed on +into the sick man's room. And there, after a few faintest words of +confession from the sick man, Nina knelt by her father's bedside, while +the priest prayed for them both, and forgave the sinner his sins, and +prepared him for his further journey with such preparation as the +extreme unction of his Church would afford. + +When the prayer and the ceremony were over, and the viaticum had been +duly administered, the priest returned into the parlour, and Nina +followed him. "He is stronger than I had expected to find him," said +Father Jerome. + +"He has rallied a little, Father, because you were coming. You may be +sure that he is very ill." + +"I know that he is very ill, but I think that he may still last some +days. Should it be so, I will come again." After that Nina thought that +the priest would have gone; but he paused for a few moments as though +hesitating, and then spoke again, putting down his hat, which he had +taken up. "But what is all this that I hear about you, Nina?" + +"All what?" said Nina, blushing. + +"They tell me that you have engaged yourself to marry Anton +Trendellsohn, the Jew." + +She stood before him confessing her guilt by her silence. "Is it true, +Nina?" he asked. + +"It is true." + +"I am very sorry for that--very sorry. Could you not bring yourself to +love some Christian youth, rather than a Jew? Would it not be better, +do you think, to do so--for your soul's sake?" + +"It is too late now, Father." + +"Too late! No; it can never be too late to repent of evil." + +"But why should it be evil, Father Jerome? It is permitted; is it not?" + +"The law permits it, certainly." + +"And when I am a Jew's wife, may I not go to mass?" + +"Yes; you may go to mass. Who can hinder you?" + +"And if I pray devoutly, will not the saints hear me?" + +"It is not for me to limit their mercy. I think that they will hear all +prayers that are addressed to them with faith and humility." + +"And you, Father, will you not give me absolution if I am a Jew's +wife?" + +"I would ten times sooner give it you as the wife of a Christian, Nina. +My absolution would be nothing to you, Nina, if the while you had a +deep sin upon your conscience." Then the priest went, being unwilling +to endure further questioning, and Nina seated herself in a glow of +triumph. And this was the worst that she would have to endure from the +Church after all her aunt's threatenings--after Lotta's bitter words, +and the reproaches of all around her! Father Jerome--even Father +Jerome himself, who was known to be the strictest priest on that side +of the river in opposing the iniquities of his flock--did not take upon +himself to say that her case as a Christian would be hopeless, were she +to marry the Jew! After that she went to the drawer in her bedroom, and +restored the picture of the Virgin to its place. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Father Jerome had been very mild with Nina, but his mildness did not +produce any corresponding feelings of gentleness in the breasts of +Nina's relatives in the Windberg-gasse. Indeed, it had the contrary +effect of instigating Madame Zamenoy and Lotta Luxa to new exertions. +Nina, in her triumph, could not restrain herself from telling Souchey +that Father Jerome did not by any means think so badly of her as did +the others; and Souchey, partly in defence of Nina, and partly in +quest of further sound information on the knotty religious difficulty +involved, repeated it all to Lotta. Among them they succeeded in +cutting Souchey's ground from under him as far as any defence of Nina +was concerned, and they succeeded also in solving his religious doubts. +Poor Souchey was at last convinced that the best service he could +tender to his mistress was to save her from marrying the Jew, let the +means by which this was to be done be, almost, what they might. + +As the result of this teaching, Souchey went late one afternoon to +the Jews' quarter. He did not go thither direct from the house in the +Kleinseite, but from Madame Zamenoy's abode, where he had again dined +previously in Lotta's presence. Madame Zamenoy herself had condescended +to enlighten his mind on the subject of Nina's peril, and had gone so +far as to invite him to hear a few words on the subject from a priest +on that side of the water. Souchey had only heard Nina's report of what +Father Jerome had said, but he was listening with his own ears while +the other priest declared his opinion that things would go very badly +with any Christian girl who might marry a Jew. This sufficed for him; +and then--having been so far enlightened by Madame Zamenoy herself--he +accepted a little commission, which took him to the Jew's house. Lotta +had had much difficulty in arranging this; for Souchey was not open +to a bribe in the matter, and on that account was able to press his +legitimate suit very closely. Before he would start on his errand to +the Jew, Lotta was almost obliged to promise that she would yield. + +It was late in the afternoon when he got to Trendellsohn's house. He +had never been there before, though he well knew the exact spot on +which it stood, and had often looked up at the windows, regarding the +place with unpleasant suspicions; for he knew that Trendellsohn was +now the owner of the property that had once been his master's, and, of +course, as a good Christian, he believed that the Jew had obtained +Balatka's money by robbery and fraud. He hesitated a moment before he +presented himself at the door, having some fear at his heart. He knew +that he was doing right, but these Jews in their own quarter were +uncanny, and might be dangerous! To Anton Trendellsohn, over in the +Kleinseite, Souchey could be independent, and perhaps on occasions a +little insolent; but of Anton Trendellsohn in his own domains he almost +acknowledged to himself that he was afraid. Lotta had told him that, if +Anton were not at home, his commission could be done as well with the +old man; and as he at last made his way round the synagogue to the +house door, he determined that he would ask for the elder Jew. That +which he had to say, he thought, might be said easier to the father +than to the son. + +The door of the house stood open, and Souchey, who, in his confusion, +missed the bell, entered the passage. The little oil-lamp still hung +there, giving a mysterious glimmer of light, which he did not at all +enjoy. He walked on very slowly, trying to get courage to call, when, +of a sudden, he perceived that there was a figure of a man standing +close to him in the gloom. He gave a little start, barely suppressing a +scream, and then perceived that the man was Anton Trendellsohn himself. +Anton, hearing steps in the passage, had come out from the room on the +ground-floor, and had seen Souchey before Souchey had seen him. + +"You have come from Josef Balatka's," said the Jew. "How is the old +man?" + +Souchey took off his cap and bowed, and muttered something as to his +having come upon an errand. "And my master is something better to-day," +he said, "thanks be to God for all His mercies!" + +"Amen," said the Jew. + +"But it will only last a day or two; no more than that," said Souchey. +"He has had the doctor and the priest, and they both say that it is all +over with him for this world." + +"And Nina--you have brought some message probably from her?" + +"No--no indeed; that is, not exactly; not to-day, Herr Trendellsohn. +The truth is, I had wished to speak a word or two to you about the +maiden; but perhaps you are engaged--perhaps another time would be +better." + +"I am not engaged, and no other time could be better." + +They were still out in the passage, and Souchey hesitated. That which +he had to say it would behove him to whisper into the closest privacy +of the Jew's ear--into the ear of the old Jew or of the young. "It is +something very particular," said Souchey. + +"Very particular--is it?" said the Jew. + +"Very particular indeed." said Souchey. Then Anton Trendellsohn led +the way back into the dark room on the ground-floor from whence he had +come, and invited Souchey to follow him. The shutters were up, and the +place was seldom used. There was a counter running through it, and a +cross-counter, such as are very common when seen by the light of day +in shops; but the place seemed to be mysterious to Souchey; and always +afterwards, when he thought of this interview, he remembered that his +tale had been told in the gloom of a chamber that had never been +arranged for honest Christian purposes. + +"And now, what is it you have to tell me?" said the Jew. + +After some fashion Souchey told his tale, and the Jew listened to him +without a word of interruption. More than once Souchey had paused, +hoping that the Jew would say something; but not a sound had fallen +from Trendellsohn till Souchey's tale was done. + +"And it is so--is it?" said the Jew when Souchey ceased to speak. There +was nothing in his voice which seemed to indicate either sorrow or joy, +or even surprise. + +"Yes, it is so," said Souchey. + +"And how much am I to pay you for the information?" the Jew asked. + +"You are to pay me nothing," said Souchey. + +"What! you betray your mistress gratis?" + +"I do not betray her," said Souchey. "I love her and the old man too. +I have been with them through fair weather and through foul. I have +not betrayed her." + +"Then why have you come to me with this story?" + +The whole truth was almost on Souchey's tongue. He had almost said that +his sole object was to save his mistress from the disgrace of marrying +a Jew. But he checked himself, then paused a moment, and then left the +room and the house abruptly. He had done his commission, and the fewer +words which he might have with the Jew after that the better. + +On the following morning Nina was seated by her father's bedside, when +her quick ear caught through the open door the sound of a footstep in +the hall below. She looked for a moment at the old man, and saw that if +not sleeping he appeared to sleep. She leaned over him for a moment, +gave one gentle touch with her hand to the bed-clothes, then crept out +into the parlour, and closed behind her the door of the bed-room. When +in the middle of the outer chamber she listened again, and there was +clearly a step on the stairs. She listened again, and she knew that the +step was the step of her lover. He had come to her at last, then. Now, +at this moment, she lost all remembrance of her need of forgiving him. +Forgiving him! What could there be to be forgiven to one who could make +her so happy as she felt herself to be at this moment? She opened the +door of the room just as he had raised his hand to knock, and threw +herself into his arms. "Anton, dearest, you have come at last. But I +am not going to scold. I am so glad that you have come, my own one!" + +While she was yet speaking, he brought her back into the room, +supporting her with his arm round her waist; and when the door was +closed he stood over her still holding her up, and looking down into +her face, which was turned up to his. "Why do you not speak to me, +Anton?" she said. But she smiled as she spoke, and there was nothing +of fear in the tone of her voice, for his look was kind, and there was +love in his eyes. + +He stooped down over her, and fastened his lips upon her forehead. She +pressed herself closer against his shoulder, and shutting her eyes, as +she gave herself up to the rapture of his embrace, told herself that +now all should be well with them. + +"Dear Nina," he said. + +"Dearest, dearest Anton," she replied. + +And then he asked after her father; and the two sat together for a +while, with their knees almost touching, talking in whispers as to the +condition of the old man. And they were still so sitting, and still so +talking, when Nina rose from her chair, and put up her forefinger with +a slight motion for silence, and a pretty look of mutual interest--as +though Anton were already one of the same family; and, touching his +hair lightly with her hand as she passed him, that he might feel how +delighted she was to be able so to touch him, she went back to the door +of the bedroom on tiptoe, and, lifting the latch without a sound, put +in her head and listened. But the sick man had not stirred. His face +was still turned from her, as though he slept, and then, again closing +the door, she came back to her lover. + +"He is quite quiet," she said, whispering. + +"Does he suffer?" + +"I think not; he never complains. When he is awake he will sit with my +hand within his own, and now and again there is a little pressure." + +"And he says nothing?" + +"Very little; hardly a word now and then. When he does speak, it is of +his food." + +"He can eat, then?" + +"A morsel of jelly, or a little soup. But, Anton, I must tell you--I +tell you everything, you know--where do you think the things that he +takes have come from? But perhaps you know." + +"Indeed I do not." + +"They were sent to me by Rebecca Loth." + +"By Rebecca!" + +"Yes; by your friend Rebecca. She must be a good girl." + +"She is a good girl, Nina." + +"And you shall know everything; see--she sent me these," and Nina +showed her shoes; "and the very stockings I have on; I am not ashamed +that you should know." + +"Your want, then, has been so great as that?" + +"Father has been very poor. How should he not be poor when nothing is +earned? And she came here, and she saw it." + +"She sent you these things?" + +"Yes, Ruth came with them; there was a great basket with nourishing +food for father. It was very kind of her. But, Anton, Rebecca says that +I ought not to marry you, because of our religion. She says all the +Jews in Prague will become your enemies." + +"We will not stay in Prague; we will go elsewhere. There are other +cities besides Prague." + +"Where nobody will know us?" + +"Where we will not be ashamed to be known." + +"I told Rebecca that I would give you back all your promises, if you +wished me to do so." + +"I do not wish it. I will not give you back your promises, Nina." + +The enraptured girl again clung to him. "My own one," she said, "my +darling, my husband; when you speak to me like that, there is no girl +in Bohemia so happy as I am. Hush! I thought it was father. But no; +there is no sound. I do not mind what anyone says to me, as long as you +are kind." + +She was now sitting on his knee, and his arm was round her waist, and +she was resting her head against his brow; he had asked for no pardon, +but all the past was entirely forgiven; why should she even think of it +again? Some such thought was passing through her mind, when he spoke a +word, and it seemed as though a dagger had gone into her heart. "About +that paper, Nina?" Accursed document, that it should be brought again +between them to dash the cup of joy from her lips at such a moment as +this! She disengaged herself from his embrace, almost with a leap. +"Well! what about the paper?" she said. + +"Simply this, that I would wish to know where it is." + +"And you think I have it?" + +"No; I do not think so; I am perplexed about it, hardly knowing what to +believe; but I do not think you have it; I think that you know nothing +of it." + +"Then why do you mention it again, reminding me of the cruel words +which you spoke before?" + +"Because it is necessary for both our sakes. I will tell you plainly +just what I have heard: your servant Souchey has been with me, and he +says that you have it." + +"Souchey!" + +"Yes; Souchey. It seemed strange enough to me, for I had always thought +him to be your friend." + +"Souchey has told you that I have got it?" + +"He says that it is in that desk," and the Jew pointed to the old +depository of all the treasures which Nina possessed. + +"He is a liar." + +"I think he is so, though I cannot tell why he should have so lied; but +I think he is a liar; I do not believe that it is there; but in such a +matter it is well that the fact should be put beyond all dispute. You +will not object to my looking into the desk?" He had come there with a +fixed resolve that he would demand to search among her papers. It was +very unpleasant to him, and he knew that his doing so would be painful +to her; but he told himself that it would be best for them both that he +should persevere. + +"Will you open it, or shall I?" he said; and as he spoke, she looked +into his face, and saw that all tenderness and love were banished from +it, and that the hard suspicious greed of the Jew was there instead. + +"I will not unlock it," she said; "there is the key, and you can do as +you please." Then she flung the key upon the table, and stood with her +back up against the wall, at some ten paces distant from the spot where +the desk stood. He took up the key, and placed it remorselessly in the +lock, and opened the desk, and brought all the papers forth on to the +table which stood in the middle of the room. + +"Are all my letters to be read?" she asked. + +"Nothing is to be read," he said. + +"Not that I should mind it; or at least I should have cared but little +ten minutes since. There are words there may make you think I have been +a fool, but a fool only too faithful to you." + +He made no answer to this, but moved the papers one by one carefully +till he came to a folded document larger than the others. Why dwell +upon it? Of course it was the deed for which he was searching. Nina, +when from her station by the wall she saw that there was something in +her lover's hands of which she had no knowledge--something which had +been in her own desk without her privity--came forward a step or two, +looking with all her eyes. But she did not speak till he had spoken; +nor did he speak at once. He slowly unfolded the document, and perused +the heading of it; then he refolded it, and placed it on the table, and +stood there with his hand upon it. + +"This," said he, "is the paper for which I am looking. Souchey, at any +rate, is not a liar. + +"How came it there?" said Nina, almost screaming in her agony. + +"That I know not; but Souchey is not a liar; nor were your aunt and her +servant liars in telling me that I should find it in your hands." + +"Anton," she said, "as the Lord made me, I knew not of it;" and she +fell on her knees before his feet. + +He looked down upon her, scanning every feature of her face and every +gesture of her body with hard inquiring eyes. He did not stoop to raise +her, nor, at the moment, did he say a word to comfort her. "And you +think that I stole it and put it there?" she said. She did not quail +before his eyes, but seemed, though kneeling before him, to look up +at him as though she would defy him. When first she had sunk upon the +ground, she had been weak, and wanted pardon though she was ignorant +of all offence; but his hardness, as he stood with his eyes fixed upon +her, had hardened her, and all her intellect, though not her heart, +was in revolt against him. "You think that I have robbed you?" + +"I do not know what to think," he said. + +Then she rose slowly to her feet, and, collecting the papers which he +had strewed upon the table, put them back slowly into the desk, and +locked it. + +"You have done with this now," she said, holding the key in her hand. + +"Yes; I do not want the key again." + +"And you have done with me also?" + +He paused a moment or two to collect his thoughts, and then he answered +her. "Nina, I would wish to think about this before I speak of it more +fully. What step I may next take I cannot say without considering it +much. I would not wish to pain you if I could help it." + +"Tell me at once what it is that you believe of me?" + +"I cannot tell you at once. Rebecca Loth is friendly to you, and I will +send her to you to-morrow." + +"I will not see Rebecca Loth," said Nina. "Hush! there is father's +voice. Anton, I have nothing more to say to you--nothing--nothing." +Then she left him, and went into her father's room. + +For some minutes she was busy by her father's bed, and went about her +work with a determined alacrity, as though she would wipe out of her +mind altogether, for the moment, any thought about her love and the Jew +and the document that had been found in her desk; and for a while she +was successful, with a consciousness, indeed, that she was under the +pressure of a terrible calamity which must destroy her, but still with +an outward presence of mind that supported her in her work. And her +father spoke to her, saying more to her than he had done for days past, +thanking her for her care, patting her hand with his, caressing her, +and bidding her still be of good cheer, as God would certainly be good +to one who had been so excellent a daughter. "But I wish, Nina, he were +not a Jew," he said suddenly. + +"Dear father, we will not talk of that now." + +"And he is a stern man, Nina." + +But on this subject she would speak no further, and therefore she left +the bedside for a moment, and offered him a cup, from which he drank. +When he had tasted it he forgot the matter that had been in his mind, +and said no further word as to Nina's engagement. + +As soon as she had taken the cup from her father's hand, she returned +to the parlour. It might be that Anton was still there. She had left +him in the room, and had shut her ears against the sound of his steps, +as though she were resolved that she would care nothing ever again for +his coming or going. He was gone, however, and the room was empty, and +she sat down in solitude, with her back against the wall, and began to +realise her position. He had told her that others accused her, but that +he had not suspected her. He had not suspected her, but he had thought +it necessary to search, and had found in her possession that which had +made her guilty in his eyes! + +She would never see him again--never willingly. It was not only that he +would never forgive her, but that she could never now be brought to +forgive him. He had stabbed her while her words of love were warmest in +his ear. His foul suspicions had been present to his mind even while +she was caressing him. He had never known what it was to give himself +up really to his love for one moment. While she was seated on his knee, +with her head pressed against his, his intellect had been busy with the +key and the desk, as though he were a policeman looking for a thief, +rather than a lover happy in the endearments of his mistress. Her vivid +mind pictured all this to her, filling her full with every incident of +the insult she had endured. No. There must be an end of it now. If she +could see her aunt that moment, or Lotta, or even Ziska, she would tell +them that it should be so. She would say nothing to Anton--no, not a +word again, though both might live for an eternity; but she would write +a line to Rebecca Loth, and tell the Jewess that the Jew was now free +to marry whom he would among his own people. And some of the words that +she thought would be fitting for such a letter occurred to her as she +sat there. "I know now that a Jew and a Christian ought not to love +each other as we loved. Their hearts are different." That was her +present purpose, but, as will be seen, she changed it afterwards. + +But ever and again as she strengthened her resolution, her thoughts +would run from her, carrying her back to the sweet rapture of some +moment in which the man had been gracious to her; and even while she +was struggling to teach herself to hate him, she would lean her head on +one side, as though by doing so she might once more touch his brow with +hers; and unconsciously she would put out her fingers, as though they +might find their way into his hand. And then she would draw them back +with a shudder, as though recoiling from the touch of an adder. + +Hours had passed over her before she began to think whence had come the +paper which Trendellsohn had found in her desk; and then, when the idea +of some fraud presented itself to her, that part of the subject did +not seem to her to be of great moment. It mattered but little who had +betrayed her. It might be Rebecca, or Souchey, or Ruth, or Lotta, or +all of them together. His love, his knowledge of her whom he loved, +should have carried him aloft out of the reach of any such poor trick +as that! What mattered it now who had stolen her key, and gone like +a thief to her desk, and laid this plot for her destruction? That he +should have been capable of being deceived by such a plot against her +was enough for her. She did not even speak to Souchey on the subject. +In the course of the afternoon he came across her as she moved about +the house, looking ashamed, not daring to meet her eyes, hardly able +to mutter a word to her. But she said not a syllable to him about her +desk. She could not bring herself to plead the cause between her and +her lover before her father's servant. + +The greater part of the day she passed by her father's bedside, but +whenever she could escape from the room, she seated herself in the +chair against the wall, endeavouring to make up her mind as to the +future. But there was much more of passion than of thought within her +breast. Never, never, never would she forgive him! Never again would +she sit on his knee caressing him. Never again would she even speak to +him. Nothing would she take from his hand, or from the hands of his +friends! Nor would she ever stoop to take aught from her aunt, or +from Ziska. They had triumphed over her. She knew not how. They had +triumphed over her, but the triumph should be very bitter to them-- +very bitter, if there was any touch of humanity left among them. + +Later in the day there came to be something of motion in the house. Her +father was worse in health, was going fast, and the doctor was again +there. And in these moments Souchey was with her, busy in the dying +man's room; and there were gentle kind words spoken between him and +Nina--as would be natural between such persons at such a time. He knew +that he had been a traitor, and the thought of his treachery was heavy +at his heart; but he perceived that no immediate punishment was to come +upon him, and it was some solace to him that he could be sedulous and +gentle and tender. And Nina, though she knew that the man had given his +aid in destroying her, bore with him not only without a hard word, but +almost without a severe thought. What did it matter what such a one as +Souchey could do? + +In the middle watches of that night the old man died, and Nina was +alone in the world. Souchey, indeed, was with her in the house, and +took from her all painful charge of the bed at which now her care could +no longer be of use. And early in the morning, while it was yet dark, +Lotta came down, and spoke words to her, of which she remembered +nothing. And then she knew that her aunt Sophie was there, and that +some offers were made to her at which she only shook her head. "Of +course you will come up to us," aunt Sophie said. And she made many +more suggestions, in answer to all of which Nina only shook her head. +Then her aunt and Nina, with Lotta's aid, fixed upon some plan--Nina +hardly knew what--as to the morrow. She did not care to know what it +was that they fixed. They were going to leave her alone for this day, +and the day would be very long. She told herself that it would be long +enough for her. + +The day was very long. When her aunt had left her she saw no one but +Souchey and an old woman who was busy in the bedroom which was now +closed. She had stood at the foot of the bed with her aunt, but after +that she did not return to the chamber. It was not only her father who, +for her, was now lying dead. She had loved her father well, but with a +love infinitely greater she had loved another; and that other one was +now dead to her also. What was there left to her in the world? The +charity of her aunt, and Lotta's triumph, and Ziska's love? No indeed! +She would bear neither the charity, nor the triumph, nor the love. One +other visitor came to the house that day. It was Rebecca Loth. But Nina +refused to see Rebecca. "Tell her," she said to Souchey, "that I cannot +see a stranger while my father is lying dead." How often did the idea +occur to her, throughout the terrible length of that day, that "he" +might come to her? But he came not. "So much the better," she said to +herself. "Were he to come, I would not see him." + +Late in the evening, when the little lamp in the room had been already +burning for some hour or two, she called Souchey to her. "Take this +note," she said, "to Anton Trendellsohn." + +"What! to-night?" said Souchey, trembling. + +"Yes, to-night. It is right that he should know that the house is now +his own, to do what he will with it." + +Then Souchey took the note, which was as follows: + + My father is dead, and the house will be empty to-morrow. + You may come and take your property without fear that you + will be troubled by NINA BALATKA. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +When Souchey left the room with the note, Nina went to the door and +listened. She heard him turn the lock below, and heard his step out +in the courtyard, and listened till she knew that he was crossing the +square. Then she ran quickly up to her own room, put on her hat and her +old worn cloak--the cloak which aunt Sophie had given her--and returned +once more into the parlour. She looked round the room with anxious +eyes, and seeing her desk, she took the key from her pocket and put +it into the lock. Then there came a thought into her mind as to the +papers; but she resolved that the thought need not arrest her, and +she left the key in the lock with the papers untouched. Then she went +to the door of her father's room, and stood there for a moment with her +hand upon the latch. She tried it ever so gently, but she found that +the door was bolted. The bolt, she knew, was on her side, and she could +withdraw it; but she did not do so; seeming to take the impediment as +though it were a sufficient bar against her entrance. Then she ran down +the stairs rapidly, opened the front door, and found herself out in the +night air. + +It was a cold windy night--not so late, indeed, as to have made her +feel that it was night, had she not come from the gloom of the dark +parlour, and the glimmer of her one small lamp. It was now something +beyond the middle of October, and at present it might be eight o'clock. +She knew that there would be moonlight, and she looked up at the sky; +but the clouds were all dark, though she could see that they were +moving along with the gusts of wind. It was very cold, and she drew her +cloak closer about her as she stepped out into the archway. + +Up above her, almost close to her in the gloom of the night, there was +the long colonnade of the palace, with the lights glimmering in the +windows as they always glimmered. She allowed herself for a moment to +think who might be there in those rooms--as she had so often thought +before. It was possible that Anton might be there. He had been there +once before at this time in the evening, as he himself had told her. +Wherever he might be, was he thinking of her? But if he thought of her, +he was thinking of her as one who had deceived him, who had tried to +rob him. Ah! the day would soon come in which he would learn that he +had wronged her. When that day should come, would his heart be bitter +within him? "He will certainly be unhappy for a time," she said; "but +he is hard and will recover, and she will console him. It will be +better so. A Christian and a Jew should never love each other." + +As she stood the clouds were lifted for a moment from the face of the +risen moon, and she could see by the pale clear light the whole facade +of the palace as it ran along the steep hillside above her. She could +count the arches, as she had so often counted them by the same light. +They seemed to be close over her head, and she stood there thinking of +them, till the clouds had again skurried across the moon's face, and +she could only see the accustomed glimmer in the windows. As her eye +fell upon the well-known black buildings around her, she found that it +was very dark. It was well for her that it should be so dark. She never +wanted to see the light again. + +There was a footstep on the other side of the square, and she paused +till it had passed away beyond the reach of her ears. Then she came out +from under the archway, and hurried across the square to the street +which led to the bridge. It was a dark gloomy lane, narrow, and +composed of high buildings without entrances, the sides of barracks and +old palaces. From the windows above her head on the left, she heard +the voices of soldiers. A song was being sung, and she could hear +the words. How cruel it was that other people should have so much of +light-hearted joy in the world, but that for her everything should have +been so terribly sad! The wind, as it met her, seemed to penetrate to +her bones. She was very cold! But it was useless to regard that. There +was no place on the face of the earth that would ever be warm for her. + +As she passed along the causeway leading to the bridge, a sound with +which she was very familiar met her ears. They were singing vespers +under the shadow of one of the great statues which are placed one over +each arch of the bridge. There was a lay friar standing by a little +table, on which there was a white cloth and a lighted lamp and a small +crucifix; and above the crucifix, supported against the stone-work of +the bridge, there was a picture of the Virgin with her Child, and there +was a tawdry wreath of paper flowers, so that by the light of the lamp +you could see that a little altar had been prepared. And on the table +there was a plate containing kreutzers, into which the faithful who +passed and took a part in the evening psalm of praise, might put an +offering for the honour of the Virgin, and for the benefit of the poor +friar and his brethren in their poor cloisters at home. Nina knew all +about it well. Scores of times had she stood on the same spot upon the +bridge, and sung the vesper hymn, ere she passed on to the Kleinseite. + +And now she paused and sang it once again. Around the table upon the +pavement there stood perhaps thirty or forty persons, most of them +children, and the remainder girls perhaps of Nina's age. And the friar +stood close by the table, leaning idly against the bridge, with his eye +wandering from the little plate with the kreutzers to the passers-by +who might possibly contribute. And ever and anon he with drawling +voice would commence some sentence of the hymn, and then the girls and +children would take it up, well knowing the accustomed words; and their +voices as they sang would sound sweetly across the waters, the loud +gurgling of which, as they ran beneath the arch, would be heard during +the pauses. + +And Nina stopped and sang. When she was a child she had sung there very +often, and the friar of those days would put his hand upon her head and +bless her, as she brought her small piece of tribute to his plate. Of +late, since she had been at variance with the Church by reason of the +Jew, she had always passed by rapidly, as though feeling that she had +no longer any right to take a part in such a ceremony. But now she had +done with the Jew, and surely she might sing the vesper song. So she +stopped and sang, remembering not the less as she sang, that that which +she was about to do, if really done, would make all such singing +unavailing for her. + +But then, perhaps, even yet it might not be done. Lotta's first +prediction, that the Jew would desert her, had certainly come true; +and Lotta's second prediction, that there would be nothing left for +her but to drown herself, seemed to her to be true also. She had left +the house in which her father's dead body was still lying, with this +purpose. Doubly deserted as she now was by lover and father, she could +live no longer. It might, however, be possible that that saint who was +so powerful over the waters might yet do something for her--might yet +interpose on her behalf, knowing, as he did, of course, that all idea +of marriage between her, a Christian, and her Jew lover had been +abandoned. At any rate she stood and sang the hymn, and when there +came the accustomed lull at the end of the verse, she felt in her +pocket for a coin, and, taking a piece of ten kreutzers, she stepped +quickly up to the plate and put it in. A day or two ago ten kreutzers +was an important portion of the little sum which she still had left in +hand, but now ten kreutzers could do nothing for her. It was at any +rate better that the friar should have it than that her money should +go with her down into the blackness of the river. Nevertheless she did +not give the friar all. She saw one girl whispering to another as she +stepped up to the table, and she heard her own name. "That is Nina +Balatka." And then there was an answer which she did not hear, but +which she was sure referred to the Jew. The girls looked at her with +angry eyes, and she longed to stop and explain to them that she was no +longer betrothed to the Jew. Then, perhaps, they would be gentle with +her, and she might yet hear a kind word spoken to her before she went. +But she did not speak to them. No; she would never speak to man or +woman again. What was the use of speaking now? No sympathy that she +could receive would go deep enough to give relief to such wounds as +hers. + +As she dropped her piece of money into the plate her eyes met those of +the friar, and she recognised at once a man whom she had known years +ago, at the same spot and engaged in the same work. He was old and +haggard, and thin, and grey, and very dirty; but there came a smile +over his face as he also recognised her. He could not speak to her, for +he had to take up a verse in the hymn, and drawl out the words which +were to set the crowd singing, and Nina had retired back again before +he was silent. But she knew that he had known her, and she almost felt +that she had found a friend who would be kind to her. On the morrow, +when inquiry would be made--and aunt Sophie would certainly be loud +in her inquiries--this friar would be able to give some testimony +respecting her. + +She passed on altogether across the bridge, in order that she might +reach the spot she desired without observation--and perhaps also with +some halting idea that she might thus postpone the evil moment. The +figure of St John Nepomucene rested on the other balustrade of the +bridge, and she was minded to stand for a while under its shadow. Now, +at Prague it is the custom that they who pass over the bridge shall +always take the right-hand path as they go; and she, therefore, in +coming from the Kleinseite, had taken that opposite to the statue of +the saint. She had thought of this, and had told herself that she would +cross the roadway in the middle of the bridge; but at that moment the +moon was shining brightly: and then, too, the night was long. Why need +she be in a hurry? + +At the further end of the bridge she stood a while in the shade of the +watch-tower, and looked anxiously around her. When last she had been +over in the Old Town, within a short distance of the spot where she now +stood, she had chanced to meet her lover. What if she should see him +now? She was sure that she would not speak to him. And yet she looked +very anxiously up the dark street, through the glimmer of the dull +lamps. First there came one man, and then another, and a third; and +she thought, as her eyes fell upon them, that the figure of each was +the figure of Anton Trendellsohn. But as they emerged from the darker +shadow into the light that was near, she saw that it was not so, and +she told herself that she was glad. If Anton were to come and find +her there, it might be that he would disturb her purpose. But yet she +looked again before she left the shadow of the tower. Now there was no +one passing in the street. There was no figure there to make her think +that her lover was coming either to save her or to disturb her. + +Taking the pathway on the other side, she turned her face again towards +the Kleinseite, and very slowly crept along under the balustrade of +the bridge. This bridge over the Moldau is remarkable in many ways, +but it is specially remarkable for the largeness of its proportions. It +is very long, taking its spring from the shore a long way before the +actual margin of the river; it is of a fine breadth: the side-walks to +it are high and massive; and the groups of statues with which it is +ornamented, though not in themselves of much value as works of art, +have a dignity by means of their immense size which they lend to the +causeway, making the whole thing noble, grand, and impressive. And +below, the Moldau runs with a fine, silent, dark volume of water--a +very sea of waters when the rains have fallen and the little rivers +have been full, though in times of drought great patches of ugly dry +land are to be seen in its half-empty bed. At the present moment there +were no such patches; and the waters ran by, silent, black, in great +volumes, and with unchecked rapid course. It was only by pausing +specially to listen to them that the passer-by could hear them as they +glided smoothly round the piers of the bridge. Nina did pause and did +hear them. They would have been almost less terrible to her, had the +sound been rougher and louder. + +On she went, very slowly. The moon, she thought, had disappeared +altogether before she reached the cross inlaid in the stone on the +bridge-side, on which she was accustomed to lay her fingers, in order +that she might share somewhat of the saint's power over the river. At +that moment, as she came up to it, the night was very dark. She had +calculated that by this time the light of the moon would have waned, +so that she might climb to the spot which she had marked for herself +without observation. She paused, hesitating whether she would put her +hand upon the cross. It could not at least do her any harm. It might +be that the saint would be angry with her, accusing her of hypocrisy; +but what would be the saint's anger for so small a thing amidst the +multitudes of charges that would be brought against her? For that which +she was going to do now there could be no absolution given. And perhaps +the saint might perceive that the deed on her part was not altogether +hypocritical--that there was something in it of a true prayer. He +might see this, and intervene to save her from the waters. So she put +the palm of her little hand full upon the cross, and then kissed it +heartily, and after that raised it up again till it rested on the foot +of the saint. As she stood there she heard the departing voices of the +girls and children singing the last verse of the vesper hymn, as they +followed the friar off the causeway of the bridge into the Kleinseite. + +She was determined that she would persevere. She had endured that which +made it impossible that she should recede, and had sworn to herself a +thousand times that she would never endure that which would have to be +endured if she remained longer in this cruel world. There would be no +roof to cover her now but the roof in the Windberg-gasse, beneath which +there was to her a hell upon earth. No; she would face the anger of +all the saints rather than eat the bitter bread which her aunt would +provide for her. And she would face the anger of all the saints rather +than fall short in her revenge upon her lover. She had given herself to +him altogether--for him she had been half-starved, when, but for him, +she might have lived as a favoured daughter in her aunt's house--for +him she had made it impossible to herself to regard any other man with +a spark of affection--for his sake she had hated her cousin Ziska-- +her cousin who was handsome, and young, and rich, and had loved her-- +feeling that the very idea that she could accept love from anyone but +Anton had been an insult to her. She had trusted Anton as though his +word had been gospel to her. She had obeyed him in everything, allowing +him to scold her as though she were already subject to his rule; and, +to speak the truth, she had enjoyed such treatment, obtaining from it +a certain assurance that she was already his own. She had loved him +entirely, had trusted him altogether, had been prepared to bear all +that the world could fling upon her for his sake, wanting nothing in +return but that he should know that she was true to him. + +This he had not known, nor had he been able to understand such truth. +It had not been possible to him to know it. The inborn suspicion of +his nature had broken out in opposition to his love, forcing her to +acknowledge to herself that she had been wrong in loving a Jew. He had +been unable not to suspect her of some vile scheme by which she might +possibly cheat him of his property, if at the last moment she should +not become his wife. She told herself that she understood it all now-- +that she could see into his mind, dark and gloomy as were its recesses. +She had wasted all her heart upon a man who had never even believed +in her; and would she not be revenged upon him? Yes, she would be +revenged, and she would cure the malady of her own love by the only +possible remedy within her reach. + +The statue of St John Nepomucene is a single figure, standing in +melancholy weeping posture on the balustrade of the bridge, without +any of that ponderous strength of wide-spread stone which belongs to +the other groups. This St John is always pictured to us as a thin, +melancholy, half-starved saint, who has had all the life washed out +of him by his long immersion. There are saints to whom a trusting +religious heart can turn, relying on their apparent physical +capabilities. St Mark, for instance, is always a tower of strength, +and St Christopher is very stout, and St Peter carries with him an +ancient manliness which makes one marvel at his cowardice when he +denied his Master. St Lawrence, too, with his gridiron, and St +Bartholomew with his flaying-knife and his own skin hanging over his +own arm, look as though they liked their martyrdom, and were proud of +it, and could be useful on an occasion. But this St John of the Bridges +has no pride in his appearance, and no strength in his look. He is a +mild, meek saint, teaching one rather by his attitude how to bear with +the malice of the waters, than offering any protection against their +violence. But now, at this moment, his aid was the only aid to which +Nina could look with any hope. She had heard of his rescuing many +persons from death amidst the current of the Moldau. Indeed she thought +that she could remember having been told that the river had no power to +drown those who could turn their minds to him when they were struggling +in the water. Whether this applied only to those who were in sight +of his statue on the bridge of Prague, or whether it was good in all +rivers of the world, she did not know. Then she tried to think whether +she had ever heard of any case in which the saint had saved one who +had--who had done the thing which she was now about to do. She was +almost sure that she had never heard of such a case as that. But, then, +was there not something special in her own case? Was not her suffering +so great, her condition so piteous, that the saint would be driven to +compassion in spite of the greatness of her sin? Would he not know that +she was punishing the Jew by the only punishment with which she could +reach him? She looked up into the saint's wan face, and fancied that +no eyes were ever so piteous, no brow ever so laden with the deep +suffering of compassion. But would this punishment reach the heart of +Anton Trendellsohn? Would he care for it? When he should hear that she +had--destroyed her own life because she could not endure the cruelty of +his suspicion, would the tidings make him unhappy? When last they had +been together he had told her, with all that energy which he knew so +well how to put into his words, that her love was necessary to his +happiness. "I will never release you from your promises," he had said, +when she offered to give him back his troth because of the ill-will of +his people. And she still believed him. Yes, he did love her. There was +something of consolation to her in the assurance that the strings of +his heart would be wrung when he should hear of this. If his bosom were +capable of agony, he would be agonised. + +It was very dark at this moment, and now was the time for her to climb +upon the stone-work and hide herself behind the drapery of the saint's +statue. More than once, as she had crossed the bridge, she had observed +the spot, and had told herself that if such a deed were to be done, +that would be the place for doing it. She had always been conscious, +since the idea had entered her mind, that she would lack the power to +step boldly up on to the parapet and go over at once, as the bathers do +when they tumble headlong into the stream that has no dangers for them. +She had known that she must crouch, and pause, and think of it, and +look at it, and nerve herself with the memory of her wrongs. Then, +at some moment in which her heart was wrung to the utmost, she would +gradually slacken her hold, and the dark, black, silent river should +take her. She climbed up into the niche, and found that the river was +very far from her, though death was so near to her and the fall would +be so easy. When she became aware that there was nothing between her +and the great void space below her, nothing to guard her, nothing left +to her in all the world to protect her, she retreated, and descended +again to the pavement. And never in her life had she moved with more +care, lest, inadvertently, a foot or a hand might slip, and she might +tumble to her doom against her will. + +When she was again on the pathway she remembered her note to Anton-- +that note which was already in his hands. What would he think of her if +she were only to threaten the deed, and then not perform it? And would +she allow him to go unpunished? Should he triumph, as he would do if +she were now to return to the house which she had told him she had +left? She clasped her hands together tightly, and pressed them first +to her bosom and then to her brow, and then again she returned to the +niche from which the fall into the river must be made. Yes, it was very +easy. The plunge might be taken at any moment. Eternity was before her, +and of life there remained to her but the few moments in which she +might cling there and think of what was coming. Surely she need not +begrudge herself a minute or two more of life. + +She was very cold, so cold that she pressed herself against the stone +in order that she might save herself from the wind that whistled round +her. But the water would be colder still than the wind, and when once +there she could never again be warm. The chill of the night, and the +blackness of the gulf before her, and the smooth rapid gurgle of the +dark moving mass of waters beneath, were together more horrid to her +imagination than even death itself. Thrice she released herself from +her backward pressure against the stone, in order that she might fall +forward and have done with it, but as often she found herself returning +involuntarily to the protection which still remained to her. It seemed +as though she could not fall. Though she would have thought that +another must have gone directly to destruction if placed where she was +crouching--though she would have trembled with agony to see anyone +perched in such danger--she appeared to be firm fixed. She must jump +forth boldly, or the river would not take her. Ah! what if it were so-- +that the saint who stood over her, and whose cross she had so lately +kissed, would not let her perish from beneath his feet? In these +moments her mind wandered in a maze of religious doubts and fears, and +she entertained, unconsciously, enough of doctrinal scepticism to found +a school of freethinkers. Could it be that God would punish her with +everlasting torments because in her agony she was driven to this as her +only mode of relief? Would there be no measuring of her sins against +her sorrows, and no account taken of the simplicity of her life? She +looked up towards heaven, not praying in words, but with a prayer in +her heart. For her there could be no absolution, no final blessing. The +act of her going would be an act of terrible sin. But God would know +all, and would surely take some measure of her case. He could save her +if He would, despite every priest in Prague. More than one passenger +had walked by while she was crouching in her niche beneath the statue-- +had passed by and had not seen her. Indeed, the night at present was so +dark, that one standing still and looking for her would hardly be able +to define her figure. And yet, dark as it was, she could see something +of the movement of the waters beneath her, some shimmer produced by the +gliding movement of the stream. Ah! she would go now and have done with +it. Every moment that she remained was but an added agony. + +Then, at that moment, she heard a voice on the bridge near her, and she +crouched close again, in order that the passenger might pass by without +noticing her. She did not wish that anyone should hear the splash of +her plunge, or be called on to make ineffectual efforts to save her. So +she would wait again. The voice drew nearer to her, and suddenly she +became aware that it was Souchey's voice. It was Souchey, and he was +not alone. It must be Anton who had come out with him to seek her, +and to save her. But no. He should have no such relief as that from +his coming sorrow. So she clung fast, waiting till they should pass, +but still leaning a little towards the causeway, so that, if it were +possible, she might see the figures as they passed. She heard the voice +of Souchey quite plain, and then she perceived that Souchey's companion +was a woman. Something of the gentleness of a woman's voice reached her +ear, but she could distinguish no word that was spoken. The steps were +now very close to her, and with terrible anxiety she peeped out to see +who might be Souchey's companion. She saw the figure, and she knew at +once by the hat that it was Rebecca Loth. They were walking fast, and +were close to her now. They would be gone in an instant. + +On a sudden, at the very moment that Souchey and Rebecca were in the +act of passing beneath the feet of the saint, the clouds swept by from +off the disc of the waning moon, and the three faces were looking at +each other in the clear pale light of the night. Souchey started back +and screamed. Rebecca leaped forward and put the grasp of her hand +tight upon the skirt of Nina's dress, first one hand and then the +other, and, pressing forward with her body against the parapet, she got +a hold also of Nina's foot. She perceived instantly what was the girl's +purpose, but, by God's blessing on her efforts, there should be no cold +form found in the river that night; or, if one, then there should be +two. Nina kept her hold against the figure, appalled, dumbfounded, +awe-stricken, but still with some inner consciousness of salvation that +comforted her. Whether her life was due to the saint or to the Jewess +she knew not, but she acknowledged to herself silently that death was +beyond her reach, and she was grateful. + +"Nina," said Rebecca. Nina still crouched against the stone, with her +eyes fixed on the other girl's face; but she was unable to speak. The +clouds had again obscured the moon, and the air was again black, but +the two now could see each other in the darkness, or feel that they did +so. "Nina, Nina--why are you here?" + +"I do not know," said Nina, shivering. + +"For the love of God take care of her," said Souchey, "or she will be +over into the river." + +"She cannot fall now," said Rebecca. "Nina, will you not come down to +me? You are very cold. Come down, and I will warm you." + +"I am very cold," said Nina. Then gradually she slid down into +Rebecca's arms, and was placed sitting on a little step immediately +below the figure of St John. Rebecca knelt by her side, and Nina's head +fell upon the shoulder of the Jewess. Then she burst into the violence +of hysterics, but after a moment or two a flood of tears relieved her. + +"Why have you come to me?" she said. "Why have you not left me alone?" + +"Dear Nina, your sorrows have been too heavy for you to bear." + +"Yes; they have been very heavy." + +"We will comfort you, and they shall be softened." + +"I do not want comfort. I only want to--to--to go." + +While Rebecca was chafing Nina's hands and feet, and tying a +handkerchief from off her own shoulders round Nina's neck, Souchey +stood over them, not knowing what to propose. "Perhaps we had better +carry her back to the old house," he said. + +"I will not be carried back," said Nina. + +"No, dear; the house is desolate and cold. You shall not go there. You +shall come to our house, and we will do for you the best we can there, +and you shall be comfortable. There is no one there but mother, and she +is kind and gracious. She will understand that your father has died, +and that you are alone." + +Nina, as she heard this, pressed her head and shoulders close against +Rebecca's body. As it was not to be allowed to her to escape from +all her troubles, as she had thought to do, she would prefer the +neighbourhood of the Jews to that of any Christians. There was no +Christian now who would say a kind word to her. Rebecca spoke to her +very kindly, and was soft and gentle with her. She could not go where +she would be alone. Even if left to do so, all physical power would +fail her. She knew that she was weak as a child is weak, and that +she must submit to be governed. She thought it would be better to be +governed by Rebecca Loth at the present moment than by anyone else whom +she knew. Rebecca had spoken of her mother, and Nina was conscious of +a faint wish that there had been no such person in her friend's house; +but this was a minor trouble, and one which she could afford to +disregard amidst all her sorrows. How much more terrible would have +been her fate had she been carried away to aunt Sophie's house! "Does +he know?" she said, whispering the question into Rebecca's ear. + +"Yes, he knows. It was he who sent me." Why did he not come himself? +That question flashed across Nina's mind, and it was present also to +Rebecca. She knew that it was the question which Nina, within her +heart, would silently ask. "I was there when the note came," said +Rebecca, "and he thought that a woman could do more than a man. I +am so glad he sent me--so very glad. Shall we go, dear?" + +Then Nina rose from her seat, and stood up, and began to move slowly. +Her limbs were stiff with cold, and at first she could hardly walk; but +she did not feel that she would be unable to make the journey. Souchey +came to her side, but she rejected his arm petulantly. "Do not let him +come," she said to Rebecca. "I will do whatever you tell me; I will +indeed." Then the Jewess said a word or two to the old man, and he +retreated from Nina's side, but stood looking at her till she was out +of sight. Then he returned home to the cold desolate house in the +Kleinseite, where his only companion was the lifeless body of his old +master. But Souchey, as he left his young mistress, made no complaint +of her treatment of him. He knew that he had betrayed her, and brought +her close upon the step of death's door. He could understand it all +now. Indeed he had understood it all since the first word that Anton +Trendellsohn had spoken after reading Nina's note. + +"She will destroy herself," Anton had said. + +"What! Nina, my mistress?" said Souchey. Then, while Anton had called +Rebecca to him, Souchey had seen it all. "Master," he said, when the +Jew returned to him, "it was Lotta Luxa who put the paper in the desk. +Nina knew nothing of its being there." Then the Jew's heart sank coldly +within him, and his conscience became hot within his bosom. He lost +nothing of his presence of mind, but simply hurried Rebecca upon her +errand. "I shall see you again to-night," he said to the girl. + +"You must come then to our house," said Rebecca. "It may be that I +shall not be able to leave it." + +Rebecca, as she led Nina back across the bridge, at first said nothing +further. She pressed the other girl's arm within her own, and there +was much of tenderness and regard in the pressure. She was silent, +thinking, perhaps, that any speech might be painful to her companion. +But Nina could not restrain herself from a question, "What will they +say of me?" + +"No one, dear, shall say anything." + +"But he knows." + +"I know not what he knows, but his knowledge, whatever it be, is only +food for his love. You may be sure of his love, Nina--quite sure, quite +sure. You may take my word for that. If that has been your doubt, you +have doubted wrongly." + +Not all the healing medicines of Mercury, not wine from the flasks of +the gods, could have given Nina life and strength as did those words +from her rival's lips. All her memory of his offences against her had +again gone in her thought of her own sin. Would he forgive her and +still love her? Yes; she was a weak woman--very weak; but she had that +one strength which is sufficient to atone for all feminine weakness-- +she could really love; or rather, having loved, she could not cease +to love. Anger had no effect on her love, or was as water thrown on +blazing coal, which makes it burn more fiercely. Ill usage could not +crush her love. Reason, either from herself or others, was unavailing +against it. Religion had no power over it. Her love had become her +religion to Nina. It took the place of all things both in heaven and +earth. Mild as she was by nature, it made her a tigress to those who +opposed it. It was all the world to her. She had tried to die, because +her love had been wounded; and now she was ready to live again because +she was told that her lover--the lover who had used her so cruelly-- +still loved her. She pressed Rebecca's arm close into her side. "I +shall be better soon," she said. Rebecca did not doubt that Nina would +soon be better, but of her own improvement she was by no means so +certain. + +They walked on through the narrow crooked streets into the Jews' +quarter, and soon stood at the door of Rebecca's house. The latch was +loose, and they entered, and they found a lamp ready for them on the +stairs. "Had you not better come to my bed for to-night?" said Rebecca. + +"Only that I should be in your way, I should be so glad." + +"You shall not be in my way. Come, then. But first you must eat and +drink." Though Nina declared that she could not eat a morsel, and +wanted no drink but water, Rebecca tended upon her, bringing the food +and wine that were in truth so much needed. "And now, dear, I will help +you to bed. You are yet cold, and there you will be warm." + +"But when shall I see him?" + +"Nay, how can I tell? But, Nina, I will not keep him from you. He shall +come to you here when he chooses--if you choose it also." + +"I do choose it--I do choose it," said Nina, sobbing in her weakness-- +conscious of her weakness. + +While Rebecca was yet assisting Nina--the Jewess kneeling as the +Christian sat on the bedside--there came a low rap at the door, and +Rebecca was summoned away. "I shall be but a moment," she said, and she +ran down to the front door. + +"Is she here?" said Anton, hoarsely. + +"Yes, she is here." + +"The Lord be thanked! And can I not see her?" + +"You cannot see her now, Anton. She is very weary, and all but in bed." + +"To-morrow I may come?" + +"Yes, to-morrow." + +"And, tell me, how did you find her? Where did you find her?" + +"To-morrow Anton, you shall be told--whatever there is to tell. For +to-night, is it not enough for you to know that she is with me? She +will share my bed, and I will be as a sister to her." + +Then Anton spoke a word of warm blessing to his friend, and went his +way home. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Early in the following year, while the ground was yet bound with frost, +and the great plains of Bohemia were still covered with snow, a Jew and +his wife took their leave of Prague, and started for one of the great +cities of the west. They carried with them but little of the outward +signs of wealth, and but few of those appurtenances of comfort which +generally fall to the lot of brides among the rich; the man, however, +was well to do in the world, and was one who was not likely to bring +his wife to want. It need hardly be said that Anton Trendellsohn was +the man, and that Nina Balatka was his wife. + +On the eve of their departure, Nina and her friend the Jewess had said +farewell to each other. "You will write to me from Frankfort?" said +Rebecca. + +"Indeed I will," said Nina; "and you, you will write to me often, very +often?" + +"As often as you will wish it." + +"I shall wish it always," said Nina; "and you can write; you are clever. +You know how to make your words say what there is in your heart." + +"But you have been able to make your face more eloquent than any +words." + +"Rebecca, dear Rebecca! Why was it that he did not love such a one as +you rather than me? You are more beautiful." + +"But he at least has not thought so." + +"And you are so clever and so good; and you could have given him help +which I never can give him." + +"He does not want help. He wants to have by his side a sweet soft +nature that can refresh him by its contrast to his own. He has done +right to love you, and to make you his wife; only, I could wish that +you were as we are in religion." To this Nina made no answer. She could +not promise that she would change her religion, but she thought that +she would endeavour to do so. She would do so if the saints would let +her. "I am glad you are going away, Nina," continued Rebecca. "It will +be better for him and better for you." + +"Yes, it will be better." + +"And it will be better for me also." Then Nina threw herself on +Rebecca's neck and wept. She could say nothing in words in answer to +that last assertion. If Rebecca really loved the man who was now the +husband of another, of course it would be better that they should be +apart. But Nina, who knew herself to be weak, could not understand that +Rebecca, who was so strong, should have loved as she had loved. + +"If you have daughters," said Rebecca, "and if he will let you name one +of them after me, I shall be glad." Nina swore that if God gave her +such a treasure as a daughter, that child should be named after the +friend who had been so good to her. + +There were also a few words of parting between Anton Trendellsohn and +the girl who had been brought up to believe that she was to be his +wife; but though there was friendship in them, there was not much of +tenderness. "I hope you will prosper where you are going," said +Rebecca, as she gave the man her hand. + +"I do not fear but that I shall prosper, Rebecca." + +"No; you will become rich, and perhaps great--as great, that is, as we +Jews can make ourselves." + +"I hope you will live to hear that the Jews are not crushed elsewhere +as they are here in Prague." + +"But, Anton, you will not cease to love the old city where your fathers +and friends have lived so long?" + +"I will never cease to love those, at least, whom I leave behind me. +Farewell, Rebecca;" and he attempted to draw her to him as though +he would kiss her. But she withdrew from him, very quietly, with no +mark of anger, with no ostentation of refusal. "Farewell," she said. +"Perhaps we shall see each other after many years." + +Trendellsohn, as he sat beside his young wife in the post-carriage +which took them out of the city, was silent till he had come nearly to +the outskirts of the town; and then he spoke. "Nina," he said, "I am +leaving behind me, and for ever, much that I love well." + +"And it is for my sake," she said. "I feel it daily, hourly. It makes +me almost wish that you had not loved me." + +"But I take with me that which I love infinitely better than all that +Prague contains. I will not, therefore, allow myself a regret. Though I +should never see the old city again, I will always look upon my going +as a good thing done." Nina could only answer him by caressing his +hand, and by making internal oaths that her very best should be done in +every moment of her life to make him contented with the lot he had +chosen. + +There remains very little of the tale to be told--nothing, indeed, of +Nina's tale--and very little to be explained. Nina slept in peace at +Rebecca's house that night on which she had been rescued from death +upon the bridge--or, more probably, lay awake anxiously thinking what +might yet be her fate. She had been very near to death--so near that +she shuddered, even beneath the warmth of the bed-clothes, and with the +protection of her friend so close to her, as she thought of those long +dreadful minutes she had passed crouching over the river at the feet +of the statue. She had been very near to death, and for a while could +hardly realise the fact of her safety. She knew that she was glad +to have been saved; but what might come next was, at that moment, +all vague, uncertain, and utterly beyond her own control She hardly +ventured to hope more than that Anton Trendellsohn would not give her +up to Madame Zamenoy. If he did, she must seek the river again, or some +other mode of escape from that worst of fates. But Rebecca had assured +her of Anton's love, and in Rebecca's words she had a certain, though a +dreamy, faith. The night was long, but she wished it to be longer. To +be there and to feel that she was warm and safe was almost happiness +for her after the misery she had endured. + +On the next day, and for a day or two afterwards, she was feverish and +she did not rise, but Rebecca's mother came to her, and Ruth--and at +last Anton himself. She never could quite remember how those few days +were passed, or what was said, or how it came to be arranged that she +was to stay for a while in Rebecca's house; that she was to stay there +for a long while--till such time as she should become a wife, and +leave it for a house of her own. She never afterwards had any clear +conception, though she very often thought of it all, how it came to be +a settled thing among the Jews around her, that she was to be Anton's +wife, and that Anton was to take her away from Prague. But she knew +that her lover's father had come to her, and that he had been kind, +and that there had been no reproach cast upon her for the wickedness +she had attempted. Nor was it till she found herself going to mass all +alone on the third Sunday that she remembered that she was still a +Christian, and that her lover was still a Jew. "It will not seem so +strange to you when you are away in another place," Rebecca said to her +afterwards. "It will be good for both of you that you should be away +from Prague." + +Nor did Nina hear much of the attempts which the Zamenoys made to +rescue her from the hands of the Jews. Anton once asked her very +gravely whether she was quite certain that she did not wish to see +her aunt. "Indeed, I am," said Nina, becoming pale at the idea of +the suggested meeting. "Why should I see her? She has always been +cruel to me." Then Anton explained to her that Madame Zamenoy had made +a formal demand to see her niece, and had even lodged with the police a +statement that Nina was being kept in durance in the Jews' quarter; but +the accusation was too manifestly false to receive attention even when +made against a Jew, and Nina had reached an age which allowed her to +choose her own friends without interposition from the law. "Only," said +Anton, "it is necessary that you should know your own mind." + +"I do know it," said Nina, eagerly. + +And she saw Madame Zamenoy no more, nor her uncle Karil, nor her cousin +Ziska. Though she lived in the same city with them for three months +after the night on which she had been taken to Rebecca's house, she +never again was brought into contact with her relations. Lotta she once +saw, when walking in the street with Ruth; and Lotta too saw her, and +endeavoured to address her; but Nina fled, to the great delight of +Ruth, who ran with her; and Lotta Luxa was left behind at the street +corner. + +I do not know that Nina ever had a more clearly-defined idea of the +trick that Lotta had played upon her, than was conveyed to her by the +sight of the deed as it was taken from her desk, and the knowledge that +Souchey had put her lover upon the track. She soon learned that she was +acquitted altogether by Anton, and she did not care for learning more. +Of course there had been a trick. Of course there had been deceit. Of +course her aunt and Lotta Luxa and Ziska, who was the worst of them +all, had had their hands in it! But what did it signify? They had +failed, and she had been successful. Why need she inquire farther? + +But Souchey, who repented himself thoroughly of his treachery, spoke +his mind freely to Lotta Luxa. "No," said he, "not if you had ten times +as many florins, and were twice as clever, for you nearly drove me to +be the murderer of my mistress." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NINA BALATKA*** + + +******* This file should be named 8897.txt or 8897.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/8/8/9/8897 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Loewenstein, M.D. + + + +NINA BALATKA + +by ANTHONY TROLLOPE + + + + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +Anthony Trollope was an established novelist of great renown when _Nina +Balatka_ was published in 1866, twenty years after his first novel. +Except for _La Vendee_, his third novel, set in France during the +Revolution, all his previous works were set in England or Ireland and +dealt with the upper levels of society: the nobility and the landed +gentry (wealthy or impoverished), and a few well-to-do merchants--people +several strata above the social levels of the characters popularized by +his contemporary Dickens. Most of Trollope's early novels were set in +the countryside or in provincial towns, with occasional forays into +London. The first of his political novels, _Can You Forgive Her_, dealing +with the Pallisers was published in 1864, two years before _Nina_. By the +time he began writing _Nina_, shortly after a tour of Europe, Trollope +was a master at chronicling the habits, foibles, customs, and ways of +life of his chosen subjects. + +_Nina Balatka_ is, on the surface, a love story--not an unusual theme for +Trollope. Romance and courtship were woven throughout all his previous +works, often with two, three, or even more pairs of lovers per novel. +Most of his heroes and heroines, after facing numerous hurdles, often +of their own making, were eventually happily united by the next-to-last +chapter. A few were doomed to disappointment (Johnny Eames never won +the heart of Lily Dale through two of the "Barsetshire" novels), but +marital bliss--or at least the prospect of bliss--was the usual outcome. +Even so, the reader of Trollope soon notices his analytical description +of Victorian courtship and marriage. In the circles of Trollope's +characters, only the wealthy could afford to marry for love; those +without wealth had to marry for money, sometimes with disastrous +consequences. By the time of _Nina_, Trollope's best exploration of +this subject was the marriage between Plantagenet Palliser and Lady +Glencora M'Cluskie, the former a cold fish and the latter a hot-blooded +heiress in love with a penniless scoundrel (_Can You Forgive Her?_ +1865). Yet to come was the disastrous marriage of intelligent Lady +Laura Standish to the wealthy but old-maidish Robert Kennedy in _Phineas +Finn_ and its sequel. + +But _Nina Balatka_ is different from Trollope's previous novels in four +respects. First, Trollope was accustomed to include in his novels his +own witty editorial comments about various subjects, often paragraphs or +even several pages long. No such comments are found in _Nina_. Second, +the story is set in Prague instead of the British isles. Third, the +hero and heroine are already in love and engaged to one another at +the opening; we are not told any details about their falling in love. +The hero, Anton Trendellsohn is a successful businessman in his mid- +thirties--not the typical Trollopian hero in his early twenties, still +finding himself, and besotted with love. Anton is rather cold as lovers +go, seldom whispering words of endearment to Nina. But it is the fourth +difference which really sets this novel apart and makes it both a +masterpiece and an enigma. That fourth--and most important--difference +is clearly stated in the remarkable opening sentence of the novel: + + Nina Balatka was a maiden of Prague, born of Christian parents, + and herself a Christian--but she loved a Jew; and this is her + story. + +Marriage--even worse, love--between a Christian and a Jew would have +been unacceptable to Victorian British readers. Blatant anti-semitism +was prevalent--perhaps ubiquitous--among the upper classes. + +Let us consider the origins of this anti-semitism. Jews were first +allowed into England by William the Conqueror. For a while they +prospered, largely through money-lending, an occupation to which +they were restricted. In the 13th century a series of increasingly +oppressive laws and taxes reduced the Jewish community to poverty, and +the Jews were expelled from England in 1290. They were not allowed to +return until 1656, when Oliver Cromwell authorized their entry over +the objections of British merchants. Legal protection for the Jews +increased gradually; even the "Act for the More Effectual Suppressing +of Blasphemy and Profaneness" (1698) recognized the practice of Judaism +as legal, but there were probably only a few hundred Jews in the entire +country. The British Jewish community grew gradually, and efforts to +emancipate the Jews were included in various "Reform Acts" in the first +half of the 19th century, although many failed to become law. Gradually +Jews were admitted to the bar and other professions. Full citizenship +and rights, including the right to sit in Parliament, were granted in +1858--only seven years before Trollope began writing _Nina Balatka_. By +this time wealthy Jewish families were growing in number. This upward +mobility and increasing economic and political power no doubt made the +British upper classes envious and resentful, fuelling anti-semitism. + +Trollope chose to have _Nina_ published anonymously in _Blackwood's +Magazine_ for reasons which he described in his autobiography: + + From the commencement of my success as a writer . . . I had + always felt an injustice in literary affairs which had never + afflicted me or even suggested itself to me while I was + unsuccessful. It seemed to me that a name once earned carried + with it too much favour . . . The injustice which struck me did + not consist in that which was withheld from me, but in that which + was given to me. I felt that aspirants coming up below me might + do work as good as mine, and probably much better work, and yet + fail to have it appreciated. In order to test this, I determined + to be such an aspirant myself, and to begin a course of novels + anonymously, in order that I might see whether I could succeed in + obtaining a second identity,--whether as I had made one mark by + such literary ability as I possessed, I might succeed in doing so + again. [1] + +Why did Trollope start his "new" career with a novel whose central theme +was a subject of distaste at best--more likely revulsion--to the vast +majority of the reading public? Perhaps the nature of the novel itself +led him to consider publishing it anonymously, although we know he was +not averse to controversial subjects. In his first book, _The Macdermots +of Ballycloran_, which he thought had the best plot of all his novels, +the principal female character is seduced by a scoundrel and dies giving +birth to an illegitimate child. + +Certainly _Nina_ was well-suited for the experiment because of it's +different setting and subject matter. Perhaps further to disguise his +authorship, Trollope wrote _Nina_ in a style of prose that reads almost +like a translation from a foreign language. + +The experiment did not last long enough to test Trollope's hypothesis. +Mr. Hutton, critic for the _Spectator_, recognized Trollope as the author +and so stated in his review. Trollope did not deny the accusation. + +One cannot discuss _Nina Balatka_ without addressing the question, was +Trollope himself anti-semitic? A careful reading of his works does not +provide a clear answer. Jews appear in some of his books and are referred +to in others, often as disreputable characters or money-lenders. They are +seldom mentioned by his Christian characters with respect, probably +realistically reflecting the sentiments of the classes he wrote about. +Some of his greatest villains in his later novels--Melmotte in _The Way +We Live Now_ (1875) and Lopez in _The Prime Minister_ (1876)--are rumored +to be Jewish, but Trollope never unequivocally identifies them as Jewish. +Perhaps his Christian characters expect them to be Jewish because they +are foreigners and villains. + +However, if one ignores the dialogue of his characters, even the +descriptive and editorial comments by Trollope himself at first seem +anti-semitic. He consistently uses "Jew" as a pejorative adjective +instead of "Jewish." His descriptions of the appearance of Jewish +characters are usually unflattering and stereotypical. Even Anton +Trendellsohn, the hero of _Nina Balatka_, is described as follows: + + To those who know the outward types of his race there could be no + doubt that Anton Trendellsohn was a very Jew among Jews. He was + certainly a handsome man, not now very young, having reached some + year certainly in advance of thirty, and his face was full of + intellect. He was slightly made, below the middle height, but was + well made in every limb, with small feet and hands, and small + ears, and a well-turned neck. He was very dark--dark as a man can + be, and yet show no sign of colour in his blood. No white man + could be more dark and swarthy than Anton Trendellsohn. His eyes, + however, which were quite black, were very bright. His jet-black + hair, as it clustered round his ears, had in it something of a + curl. Had it been allowed to grow, it would almost have hung in + ringlets; but it was worn very short, as though its owner were + jealous even of the curl. Anton Trendellsohn was decidedly a + handsome man; but his eyes were somewhat too close together in his + face, and the bridge of his aquiline nose was not sharply cut, as + is mostly the case with such a nose on a Christian face. The olive + oval face was without doubt the face of a Jew, and the mouth was + greedy, and the teeth were perfect and bright, and the movement of + the man's body was the movement of a Jew. + +This is not the typical description of the romantic hero of a Victorian +novel. Even so, Trollope's description of Anton is less derogatory than +his description of Ezekiel Brehgert, a character in a later novel, _The +Way We Live Now_: + + He was a fat, greasy man, good-looking in a certain degree, about + fifty, with hair dyed black, and beard and moustache dyed a dark + purple colour. The charm of his face consisted in a pair of very + bright black eyes, which were, however, set too near together in + his face for the general delight of Christians. He was stout fat + all over rather than corpulent and had that look of command in his + face which has become common to master-butchers, probably by long + intercourse with sheep and oxen. + +The case for Trollope being anti-semitic is harder to support, however, +when one considers the behavior of his Jewish characters. Brehgert, +whose physical description above is stereotypic, is one of the few +characters in _The Way We Live Now_ whose actions are completely +honorable. Trollope wrote 16 novels before _Nina Balatka_; only two of +those contain Jewish characters. The first, who plays a minor role in +_Orley Farm_ (1862), is Soloman Aram, an attorney--a Victorian Rumpole +--known for defending the accused at the Old Bailey. His skill is needed +to defend Lady Mason against a charge of perjury, much to the distaste +of her Christian advisors. He acts with dignity and shows great +consideration for the personal comfort of Lady Mason during her trial. +The second Jewish character in Trollope's novels was Mr. Hart, a London +tailor who runs for a seat in Parliament in _Rachel Ray_ (1863). This +served no purpose in the plot; the situation probably was included +because legislation to allow Jews to serve in Parliament had been +passed only five years before, and the issue was still one of public +discussion. Mr. Hart's appearance is brief; he speaks only one or +two lines, and the reader is not told enough about him to judge his +character. Trollope describes him thus: + + . . . and then the Jewish hero, the tailor himself, came among + them, and astonished their minds by the ease and volubility of his + speeches. He did not pronounce his words with any of those soft + slushy Judaic utterances by which they had been taught to believe + he would disgrace himself. His nose was not hookey, with any + especial hook, nor was it thicker at the bridge than was becoming. + He was a dapper little man, with bright eyes, quick motion, ready + tongue, and a very new hat. It seemed that he knew well how to + canvass. He had a smile and a good word for all--enemies as well + as friends. + +In that novel, Trollope, himself, comments on prejudice and bigotry: + + . . . Mrs. Ray, in her quiet way, expressed much joy that Mr. + Comfort's son-in-law should have been successful, and that + Baslehurst should not have disgraced itself by any connection + with a Jew. To her it had appeared monstrous that such a one + should have been even permitted to show himself in the town as a + candidate for its representation. To such she would have denied + all civil rights, and almost all social rights. For a true spirit + of persecution one should always go to a woman; and the milder, + the sweeter, the more loving, the more womanly the woman, the + stronger will be that spirit within her. Strong love for the thing + loved necessitates strong hatred for the thing hated, and thence + comes the spirit of persecution. They in England who are now + keenest against the Jews, who would again take from them rights + that they have lately won, are certainly those who think most of + the faith of a Christian. The most deadly enemies of the Roman + Catholics are they who love best their religion as Protestants. + When we look to individuals we always find it so, though it + hardly suits us to admit as much when we discuss these subjects + broadly. To Mrs. Ray it was wonderful that a Jew should have been + entertained in Baslehurst as a future member for the borough, and + that he should have been admitted to speak aloud within a few + yards of the church tower! + +_Nina Balatka_ presents a sharp contrast between the behaviors of the +Jewish and Christian characters. Nina and her father Josef Balatka +live on the edge of poverty; he was cheated out of his business by his +Christian brother-in-law, who is now wealthy. Josef's only source of +money was to sell his house to Anton Trendellsohn's father, who for many +years has allowed Josef and Nina to remain in the house without paying +any rent. Nina's Christian relatives use every form of deceit in their +attempt to turn Anton against Nina. Nina's Aunt Sophie spews invective +in every direction. She tells Nina, "Impudent girl!--brazen-faced, +impudent, bad girl! Do you not know that you would bring disgrace upon +us all?" To Nina's father she says, "Tell me that at once, Josef, +that I may know. Has she your sanction for--for--for this accursed +abomination?" To her husband she says, "Oh, I hate them! I do hate them! +Anything is fair against a Jew." And during a meeting with Anton she +exclaims, "How dares he come here to talk of his love? It is filthy--it +is worse than filthy--it is profane." + +Anton's family also opposes the marriage, but Anton's father's behavior +toward Nina is in sharp contrast to that of her aunt: + + The old man's heart was softened towards her. He could not bring + himself to say a word to her of direct encouragement, but he + kissed her before she went, telling her that she was a good girl, + and bidding her have no care as to the house in the Kleinseite. As + long as he lived, and her father, her father should not be + disturbed. + +Anton, being more a businessman than a lover, at times behaves +insensitively toward Nina. Otherwise, throughout the novel, the Jewish +characters act with honesty and kindness. Even the Jewish maiden who +wants to marry Anton does not scheme to break up his engagement to Nina +but rather befriends Nina and eventually saves her life. One has to +wonder whether Trollope intended this contrast to induce his readers to +reconsider their prejudices. Consider his perception of his duty as a +writer: + + . . . And the criticism [of my work offered by Hawthorne], + whether just or unjust, describes with wonderful accuracy the + purport that I have ever had in view in my writing. I have always + desired to 'hew out some lump of the earth', and to make men and + women walk upon it just as they do walk here among us,--with not + more of excellence, nor with exaggerated baseness,--so that my + readers might recognise human beings like to themselves, and not + feel themselves to be carried away among gods or demons. If I + could do this, then I thought I might succeed in impregnating the + mind of the novel-reader with a feeling that honesty is the best + policy; that truth prevails while falsehood fails; that a girl + will be loved as she is pure, and sweet, and unselfish; that a man + will be honoured as he is true, and honest, and brave of heart; + that things meanly done are ugly and odious, and things nobly done + beautiful and gracious. . . There are many who would laugh at the + idea of a novelist teaching either virtue or nobility,--those, for + instance, who regard the reading of novels as a sin, and those + also who think it to be simply an idle pastime. They look upon the + tellers of stories as among the tribe of those who pander to the + wicked pleasures of a wicked world. I have regarded my art from so + different a point of view that I have ever thought of myself as a + preacher of sermons, and my pulpit as one which I could make both + salutary and agreeable to my audience. I do believe that no girl + has risen from the reading of my pages less modest than she was + before, and that some may have learned from them that modesty is + a charm well worth preserving. I think that no youth has been + taught that in falseness and flashness is to be found the road to + manliness; but some may perhaps have learned from me that it is + to be found in truth and a high but gentle spirit. Such are the + lessons I have striven to teach; and I have thought that it might + best be done by representing to my readers characters like + themselves,--or to which they might liken themselves. [1] + +Given Trollope's philosophy, it is reasonable to believe that the +actions of his characters should speak louder than their words. If +so, Trollope might well have been holding up a mirror to his audience +that they might examine their own prejudices. Unfortunately, we shall +never know. + + + [1] Anthony Trollope. _An Autobiography_. Oxford University Press, + Oxford, 1950. + + + Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D. + Midland, 2003 + + Copyright (C) 2003 Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D. + This Introduction to _Nina Balatka_ is protected by + copyright and/or other applicable law. Any use of the + work other than as authorized in "The Legal Small Print" + section (found at the end of the book) is prohibited. + + + + + + + +NINA BALATKA + + + + +VOLUME I + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Nina Balatka was a maiden of Prague, born of Christian parents, and +herself a Christian--but she loved a Jew; and this is her story. + +Nina Balatka was the daughter of one Josef Balatka, an old merchant +of Prague, who was living at the time of this story; but Nina's mother +was dead. Josef, in the course of his business, had become closely +connected with a certain Jew named Trendellsohn, who lived in a mean +house in the Jews' quarter in Prague--habitation in that one allotted +portion of the town having been the enforced custom with the Jews then, +as it still is now. In business with Trendellsohn, the father, there +was Anton, his son; and Anton Trendellsohn was the Jew whom Nina +Balatka loved. Now it had so happened that Josef Balatka, Nina's +father, had drifted out of a partnership with Karil Zamenoy, a wealthy +Christian merchant of Prague, and had drifted into a partnership with +Trendellsohn. How this had come to pass needs not to be told here, as +it had all occurred in years when Nina was an infant. But in these +shiftings Balatka became a ruined man, and at the time of which I write +he and his daughter were almost penniless. The reader must know that +Karil Zamenoy and Josef Balatka had married sisters. Josef's wife, +Nina's mother, had long been dead, having died--so said Sophie Zamenoy, +her sister--of a broken heart; of a heart that had broken itself in +grief, because her husband had joined his fortunes with those of a Jew. +Whether the disgrace of the alliance or its disastrous result may have +broken the lady's heart, or whether she may have died of a pleurisy, as +the doctors said, we need not inquire here. Her soul had been long at +rest, and her spirit, we may hope, had ceased to fret itself in horror +at contact with a Jew. But Sophie Zamenoy was alive and strong, and +could still hate a Jew as intensely as Jews ever were hated in those +earlier days in which hatred could satisfy itself with persecution. In +her time but little power was left to Madame Zamenoy to persecute the +Trendellsohns other than that which nature had given to her in the +bitterness of her tongue. She could revile them behind their back, or, +if opportunity offered, to their faces; and both she had done often, +telling the world of Prague that the Trendellsohns had killed her +sister, and robbed her foolish brother-in-law. But hitherto the full +vial of her wrath had not been emptied, as it came to be emptied +afterwards; for she had not yet learned the mad iniquity of her niece. +But at the moment of which I now speak, Nina herself knew her own +iniquity, hardly knowing, however, whether her love did or did not +disgrace her. But she did know that any thought as to that was too +late. She loved the man, and had told him so; and were he gipsy as well +as Jew, it would be required of her that she should go out with him +into the wilderness. And Nina Balatka was prepared to go out into the +wilderness. Karil Zamenoy and his wife were prosperous people, and +lived in a comfortable modern house in the New Town. It stood in +a straight street, and at the back of the house there ran another +straight street. This part of the city is very little like that old +Prague, which may not be so comfortable, but which, of all cities on +the earth, is surely the most picturesque. Here lived Sophie Zamenoy; +and so far up in the world had she mounted, that she had a coach of +her own in which to be drawn about the thoroughfares of Prague and its +suburbs, and a stout little pair of Bohemian horses--ponies they were +called by those who wished to detract somewhat from Madame Zamenoy's +position. Madame Zamenoy had been at Paris, and took much delight +in telling her friends that the carriage also was Parisian; but, in +truth, it had come no further than from Dresden. Josef Balatka and +his daughter were very, very poor; but, poor as they were, they lived +in a large house, which, at least nominally, belonged to old Balatka +himself, and which had been his residence in the days of his better +fortunes. It was in the Kleinseite, that narrow portion of the town, +which lies on the other side of the river Moldau--the further side, +that is, from the so-called Old and New Town, on the western side of +the river, immediately under the great hill of the Hradschin. The +Old Town and the New Town are thus on one side of the river, and the +Kleinseite and the Hradschin on the other. To those who know Prague, +it need not here be explained that the streets of the Kleinseite are +wonderful in their picturesque architecture, wonderful in their lights +and shades, wonderful in their strange mixture of shops and palaces-- +and now, alas! also of Austrian barracks--and wonderful in their +intricacy and great steepness of ascent. Balatka's house stood in a +small courtyard near to the river, but altogether hidden from it, +somewhat to the right of the main street of the Kleinseite as you pass +over the bridge. A lane, for it is little more, turning from the main +street between the side walls of what were once two palaces, comes +suddenly into a small square, and from a corner of this square there is +an open stone archway leading into a court. In this court is the door, +or doors, as I may say, of the house in which Balatka lived with his +daughter Nina. Opposite to these two doors was the blind wall of +another residence. Balatka's house occupied two sides of the court, +and no other window, therefore, besides his own looked either upon it +or upon him. The aspect of the place is such as to strike with wonder a +stranger to Prague--that in the heart of so large a city there should +be an abode so sequestered, so isolated, so desolate, and yet so close +to the thickest throng of life. But there are others such, perhaps many +others such, in Prague; and Nina Balatka, who had been born there, +thought nothing of the quaintness of her abode. Immediately over the +little square stood the palace of the Hradschin, the wide-spreading +residence of the old kings of Bohemia, now the habitation of an ex- +emperor of the House of Hapsburg, who must surely find the thousand +chambers of the royal mansion all too wide a retreat for the use of his +old age. So immediately did the imperial hill tower over the spot on +which Balatka lived, that it would seem at night, when the moon was +shining as it shines only at Prague, that the colonnades of the palace +were the upper storeys of some enormous edifice, of which the broken +merchant's small courtyard formed a lower portion. The long rows of +windows would glimmer in the sheen of the night, and Nina would stand +in the gloom of the archway counting them till they would seem to be +uncountable, and wondering what might be the thoughts of those who +abode there. But those who abode there were few in number, and their +thoughts were hardly worthy of Nina's speculation. The windows of +kings' palaces look out from many chambers. The windows of the +Hradschin look out, as we are told, from a thousand. But the rooms +within have seldom many tenants, nor the tenants, perhaps, many +thoughts. Chamber after chamber, you shall pass through them by the +score, and know by signs unconsciously recognised that there is not, +and never has been, true habitation within them. Windows almost +innumerable are there, that they may be seen from the outside--and such +is the use of palaces. But Nina, as she would look, would people the +rooms with throngs of bright inhabitants, and would think of the joys +of happy girls who were loved by Christian youths, and who could dare +to tell their friends of their love. But Nina Balatka was no coward, +and she had already determined that she would at once tell her love to +those who had a right to know in what way she intended to dispose of +herself. As to her father, if only he could have been alone in the +matter, she would have had some hope of a compromise which would have +made it not absolutely necessary that she should separate herself from +him for ever in giving herself to Anton Trendellsohn. Josef Balatka +would doubtless express horror, and would feel shame that his daughter +should love a Jew--though he had not scrupled to allow Nina to go +frequently among these people, and to use her services with them for +staving off the ill consequences of his own idleness and ill-fortune; +but he was a meek, broken man, and was so accustomed to yield to Nina +that at last he might have yielded to her even in this. There was, +however, that Madame Zamenoy, her aunt--her aunt with the bitter tongue; +and there was Ziska Zamenoy, her cousin--her rich and handsome cousin, +who would so soon declare himself willing to become more than cousin, +if Nina would but give him one nod of encouragement, or half a smile of +welcome. But Nina hated her Christian lover, cousin though he was, as +warmly as she loved the Jew. Nina, indeed, loved none of the Zamenoys-- +neither her cousin Ziska, nor her very Christian aunt Sophie with the +bitter tongue, nor her prosperous, money-loving, acutely mercantile +uncle Karil; but, nevertheless, she was in some degree so subject to +them, that she knew that she was bound to tell them what path in life +she meant to tread. Madame Zamenoy had offered to take her niece to +the prosperous house in the Windberg-gasse when the old house in the +Kleinseite had become poor and desolate; and though this generous offer +had been most fatuously declined--most wickedly declined, as aunt +Sophie used to declare--nevertheless other favours had been vouchsafed; +and other favours had been accepted, with sore injury to Nina's pride. +As she thought of this, standing in the gloom of the evening under the +archway, she remembered that the very frock she wore had been sent to +her by her aunt. But I in spite of the bitter tongue, and in spite of +Ziska's derision, she would tell her tale, and would tell it soon. She +knew her own courage, and trusted it; and, dreadful as the hour would +be, she would not put it off by one moment. As soon as Anton should +desire her to declare her purpose, she would declare it; and as he who +stands on a precipice, contemplating the expediency of throwing himself +from the rock, will feel himself gradually seized by a mad desire to do +the deed out of hand at once, so did Nina feel anxious to walk off to +the Windberg-gasse, and dare and endure all that the Zamenoys could say +or do. She knew, or thought she knew, that persecution could not go now +beyond the work of the tongue. No priest could immure her. No law could +touch her because she was minded to marry a Jew. Even the people in +these days were mild and forbearing in their usages with the Jews, and +she thought that the girls of the Kleinseite would not tear her clothes +from her back even when they knew of her love. One thing, however, was +certain. Though every rag should be torn from her--though some priest +might have special power given him to persecute her--though the +Zamenoys in their wrath should be able to crush her--even though her +own father should refuse to see her, she would be true to the Jew. Love +to her should be so sacred that no other sacredness should be able to +touch its sanctity. She had thought much of love, but had never loved +before. Now she loved, and, heart and soul, she belonged to him to whom +she had devoted herself. Whatever suffering might be before her, though +it were suffering unto death, she would endure it if her lover demanded +such endurance. Hitherto, there was but one person who suspected her. +In her father's house there still remained an old dependant, who, +though he was a man, was cook and housemaid, and washer-woman and +servant-of-all-work; or perhaps it would be more true to say that +he and Nina between them did all that the requirements of the house +demanded. Souchey--for that was his name--was very faithful, but with +his fidelity had come a want of reverence towards his master and +mistress, and an absence of all respectful demeanour. The enjoyment of +this apparent independence by Souchey himself went far, perhaps, in +lieu of wages. + +"Nina," he said to her one morning, "you are seeing too much of Anton +Trendellsohn." + +"What do you mean by that, Souchey?" said the girl, sharply. + +"You are seeing too much of Anton Trendellsohn," repeated the old man. + +"I have to see him on father's account. You know that. You know that, +Souchey, and you shouldn't say such things." + +"You are seeing too much of Anton Trendellsohn," said Souchey for the +third time. "Anton Trendellsohn is a Jew." + +Then Nina knew that Souchey had read her secret, and was sure that it +would spread from him through Lotta Luxa, her aunt's confidential maid, +up to her aunt's ears. Not that Souchey would be untrue to her on +behalf of Madame Zamenoy, whom he hated; but that he would think +himself bound by his religious duty--he who never went near priest or +mass himself--to save his mistress from the perils of the Jew. The +story of her love must be told, and Nina preferred to tell it herself +to having it told for her by her servant Souchey. She must see Anton. +When the evening therefore had come, and there was sufficient dusk upon +the bridge to allow of her passing over without observation, she put +her old cloak upon her shoulders, with the hood drawn over her head, +and, crossing the river, turned to the left and made her way through +the narrow crooked streets which led to the Jews' quarter. She knew the +path well, and could have found it with blindfolded eyes. In the middle +of that close and densely populated region of Prague stands the old +Jewish synagogue--the oldest place of worship belonging to the Jews in +Europe, as they delight to tell you; and in a pinched-up, high-gabled +house immediately behind the synagogue, at the corner of two streets, +each so narrow as hardly to admit a vehicle, dwelt the Trendellsohns. +On the basement floor there had once been a shop. There was no shop +now, for the Trendellsohns were rich, and no longer dealt in retail +matters; but there had been no care, or perhaps no ambition, at work, +to alter the appearance of their residence, and the old shutters were +upon the window, making the house look as though it were deserted. +There was a high-pitched sharp roof over the gable, which, as +the building stood alone fronting upon the synagogue, made it so +remarkable, that all who knew Prague well, knew the house in which the +Trendellsohns lived. Nina had often wished, as in latter days she had +entered it, that it was less remarkable, so that she might have gone in +and out with smaller risk of observation. It was now the beginning of +September, and the clocks of the town had just struck eight as Nina put +her hand on the lock of the Jew's door. As usual it was not bolted, +and she was able to enter without waiting in the street for a servant +to come to her. She went at once along the narrow passage and up the +gloomy wooden stairs, at the foot of which there hung a small lamp, +giving just light enough to expel the actual blackness of night. On the +first landing Nina knocked at a door, and was desired to enter by a +soft female voice. The only occupant of the room when she entered was a +dark-haired child, some twelve years old perhaps, but small in stature +and delicate, and, as appeared to the eye, almost wan. "Well, Ruth +dear," said Nina, "is Anton at home this evening?" + +"He is up-stairs with grandfather, Nina. Shall I tell him?" + +"If you will, dear," said Nina, stooping down and kissing her. + +"Nice Nina, dear Nina, good Nina," said the girl, rubbing her glossy +curls against her friend's cheeks. "Ah, dear, how I wish you lived +here!" + +"But I have a father, as you have a grandfather, Ruth." + +"And he is a Christian." + +"And so am I, Ruth." + +"But you like us, and are good, and nice, and dear--and oh, Nina, you +are so beautiful! I wish you were one of us, and lived here. There is +Miriam Harter--her hair is as light as yours, and her eyes are as +grey." + +"What has that to do with it?" + +"Only I am so dark, and most of us are dark here in Prague. Anton says +that away in Palestine our girls are as fair as the girls in Saxony." + +"And does not Anton like girls to be dark?" + +"Anton likes fair hair--such as yours--and bright grey eyes such as +you have got. I said they were green, and he pulled my ears. But now +I look, Nina, I think they are green. And so bright! I can see my own +in them, though it is so dark. That is what they call looking babies." + +"Go to your uncle, Ruth, and tell him that I want him--on business." + +"I will, and he'll come to you. He won't let me come down again, so +kiss me, Nina; good-bye." + +Nina kissed the child again, and then was left alone in the room. It +was a comfortable chamber, having in it sofas and arm-chairs--much more +comfortable, Nina used to think, than her aunt's grand drawing-room in +the Windberg-gasse, which was covered all over with a carpet, after the +fashion of drawing-rooms in Paris; but the Jew's sitting-room was dark, +with walls painted a gloomy green colour, and there was but one small +lamp of oil upon the table. But yet Nina loved the room, and as she sat +there waiting for her lover, she wished that it had been her lot to +have been born a Jewess. Only, had that been so, her hair might perhaps +have been black, and her eyes dark, and Anton would not have liked her. +She put her hand up for a moment to her rich brown tresses, and felt +them as she took joy in thinking that Anton Trendellsohn loved to look +upon fair beauty. + +After a short while Anton Trendellsohn came down. To those who know +the outward types of his race there could be no doubt that Anton +Trendellsohn was a very Jew among Jews. He was certainly a handsome +man, not now very young, having reached some year certainly in advance +of thirty, and his face was full of intellect. He was slightly made, +below the middle height, but was well made in every limb, with small +feet and hands, and small ears, and a well-turned neck. He was very +dark--dark as a man can be, and yet show no sign of colour in his +blood. No white man could be more dark and swarthy than Anton +Trendellsohn. His eyes, however, which were quite black, were very +bright. His jet-black hair, as it clustered round his ears, had in it +something of a curl. Had it been allowed to grow, it would almost have +hung in ringlets; but it was worn very short, as though its owner were +jealous even of the curl. Anton Trendellsohn was decidedly a handsome +man; but his eyes were somewhat too close together in his face, and the +bridge of his aquiline nose was not sharply cut, as is mostly the case +with such a nose on a Christian face. The olive oval face was without +doubt the face of a Jew, and the mouth was greedy, and the teeth were +perfect and bright, and the movement of the man's body was the movement +of a Jew. But not the less on that account had he behaved with +Christian forbearance to his Christian debtor, Josef Balatka, and with +Christian chivalry to Balatka's daughter, till that chivalry had turned +itself into love. + +"Nina," he said, putting out his hand, and holding hers as he spoke, "I +hardly expected you this evening; but I am glad to see you--very glad." + +"I hope I am not troubling you, Anton?" + +"How can you trouble me? The sun does not trouble us when we want light +and heat." + +"Can I give you light and heat?" + +"The light and heat I love best, Nina." + +"If I thought that--if I could really think that--I would be happy +still, and would mind nothing." + +"And what is it you do mind?" + +"There are things to trouble us, of course. When aunt Sophie says that +all of us have our troubles--even she--I suppose that even she speaks +the truth." + +"Your aunt Sophie is a fool." + +"I should not mind if she were only a fool. But a fool can sometimes be +right." + +"And she has been scolding you because--you--prefer a Jew to a +Christian." + +"No--not yet, Anton. She does not know it yet; but she must know it." + +"Sit down, Nina." He was still holding her by the hand; and now, as he +spoke, he led her to a sofa which stood between the two windows. There +he seated her, and sat by her side, still holding her hand in his. +"Yes," he said, "she must know it of course--when the time comes; and +if she guesses it before, you must put up with her guesses. A few sharp +words from a foolish woman will not frighten you, I hope." + +"No words will frighten me out of my love, if you mean that--neither +words nor anything else." + +"I believe you. You are brave, Nina. I know that. Though you will cry +if one but frowns at you, yet you are brave." + +"Do not you frown at me, Anton." + +"I am one of those that do frown at times, I suppose; but I will be +true to you, Nina, if you will be true to me." + +"I will be true to you--true as the sun." + +As she made her promise she turned her sweet face up to his, and he +leaned over her, and kissed her. + +"And what is it that has disturbed you now, Nina? What has Madame +Zamenoy said to you?" + +"She has said nothing--as yet. She suspects nothing--as yet." + +"Then let her remain as she is." + +"But, Anton, Souchey knows, and he will talk." + +"Souchey! And do you care for that?" + +"I care for nothing--for nothing; for nothing, that is, in the way of +preventing me. Do what they will, they cannot tear my love from my +heart." + +"Nor can they take you away, or lock you up." + +"I fear nothing of that sort, Anton. All that I really fear is secrecy. +Would it not be best that I should tell father?" + +"What!--now, at once?" + +"If you will let me. I suppose he must know it soon." + +"You can if you please." + +"Souchey will tell him." + +"Will Souchey dare to speak of you like that?" asked the Jew. + +"Oh, yes; Souchey dares to say anything to father now. Besides, it is +true. Why should not Souchey say it?" + +"But you have not spoken to Souchey; you have not told him?" + +"I! No indeed. I have spoken never a word to anyone about that--only to +you. How should I speak to another without your bidding? But when they +speak to me I must answer them. If father asks me whether there be +aught between you and me, shall I not tell him then?" + +"It would be better to be silent for a while." + +"But shall I lie to him? I should not mind Souchey nor aunt Sophie +much; but I never yet told a lie to father." + +"I do not tell you to lie." + +"Let me tell it all. Anton, and then, whatever they may say, whatever +they may do, I shall not mind. I wish that they knew it, and then I +could stand up against them. Then I could tell Ziska that which would +make him hold his tongue for ever." + +"Ziska! Who cares for Ziska?" + +"You need not, at any rate." + +"The truth is, Nina, that I cannot be married till I have settled all +this about the houses in the Kleinseite. The very fact that you would +be your father's heir prevents my doing so." + +"Do you think that I wish to hurry you? I would rather stay as I am, +knowing that you love me." + +"Dear Nina! But when your aunt shall once know your secret, she will +give you no peace till you are out of her power. She will leave no +stone unturned to make you give up your Jew lover." + +"She may as well leave the turning of such stones alone." + +"But if she heard nothing of it till she heard that we were married--" + +"Ah! but that is impossible. I could not do that without telling +father, and father would surely tell my aunt." + +"You may do as you will, Nina; but it may be, when they shall know it, +that therefore there may be new difficulty made about the houses. Karil +Zamenoy has the papers, which are in truth mine--or my father's--which +should be here in my iron box." And Trendellsohn, as he spoke, put his +hand forcibly on the seat beside him, as though the iron box to which +he alluded were within his reach. + +"I know they are yours," said Nina. + +"Yes; and without them, should your father die, I could not claim my +property. The Zamenoys might say they held it on your behalf--and you +my wife at the time! Do you see, Nina? I could not stand that--I would +not stand that." + +"I understand it well, Anton." + +"The houses are mine--or ours, rather. Your father has long since had +the money, and more than the money. He knew that the houses were to be +ours." + +"He knows it well. You do not think that he is holding back the +papers?" + +"He should get them for me. He should not drive me to press him for +them. I know they are at Karil Zamenoy's counting-house; but your uncle +told me, when I spoke to him, that he had no business with me; if I had +a claim on him, there was the law. I have no claim on him. But I let +your father have the money when he wanted it, on his promise that the +deeds should be forthcoming. A Christian would not have been such a +fool." + +"Oh, Anton, do not speak to me like that." + +"But was I not a fool? See how it is now. Were you and I to become man +and wife, they would never give them up, though they are my own--my +own. No; we must wait; and you--you must demand them from your uncle." + +"I will demand them. And as for waiting, I care nothing for that if you +love me." + +"I do love you." + +"Then all shall be well with me; and I will ask for the papers. Father, +I know, wishes that you should have all that is your own. He would +leave the house to-morrow if you desired it." + +"He is welcome to remain there." + +"And now, Anton, good-night." + +"Good-night, Nina." + +"When shall I see you again?" + +"When you please, and as often. Have I not said that you are light +and heat to me? Can the sun rise too often for those who love it?" +Then she held her hand up to be kissed, and kissed his in return, and +went silently down the stairs into the street. He had said once in +the course of the conversation--nay, twice, as she came to remember +in thinking over it--that she might do as she would about telling +her friends; and she had been almost craftily careful to say nothing +herself, and to draw nothing from him, which could be held as +militating against this authority, or as subsequently negativing the +permission so given. She would undoubtedly tell her father--and her +aunt; and would as certainly demand from her uncle those documents of +which Anton Trendellsohn had spoken to her. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Nina, as she returned home from the Jews' quarter to her father's +house in the Kleinseite, paused for a while on the bridge to make some +resolution--some resolution that should be fixed--as to her immediate +conduct. Should she first tell her story to her father, or first to her +aunt Sophie? There were reasons for and against either plan. And if to +her father first, then should she tell it to-night? She was nervously +anxious to rush at once at her difficulties, and to be known to all +who belonged to her as the girl who had given herself to the Jew. It +was now late in the evening, and the moon was shining brightly on the +palace over against her. The colonnades seemed to be so close to her +that there could hardly be room for any portion of the city to cluster +itself between them and the river. She stood looking up at the great +building, and fell again into her trick of counting the windows, +thereby saving herself a while from the difficult task of following out +the train of her thoughts. But what were the windows of the palace to +her? So she walked on again till she reached a spot on the bridge at +which she almost always paused a moment to perform a little act of +devotion. There, having a place in the long row of huge statues which +adorn the bridge, is the figure of the martyr St John Nepomucene, who +at this spot was thrown into the river because he would not betray the +secrets of a queen's confession, and was drowned, and who has ever +been, from that period downwards, the favourite saint of Prague--and +of bridges. On the balustrade, near the figure, there is a small plate +inserted in the stone-work and good Catholics, as they pass over the +river, put their hands upon the plate, and then kiss their fingers. So +shall they be saved from drowning and from all perils of the water--as +far, at least, as that special transit of the river may be perilous. +Nina, as a child, had always touched the stone, and then touched her +lips, and did the act without much thought as to the saving power of St +John Nepomucene. But now, as she carried her hand up to her face, she +did think of the deed. Had she, who was about to marry a Jew, any right +to ask for the assistance of a Christian saint? And would such a deed +that she now proposed to herself put her beyond the pale of Christian +aid? Would the Madonna herself desert her should she marry a Jew? If +she were to become truer than ever to her faith--more diligent, more +thoughtful, more constant in all acts of devotion--would the blessed +Mary help to save her, even though she should commit this great sin? +Would the mild-eyed, sweet Saviour, who had forgiven so many women, who +had saved from a cruel death the woman taken in adultery, who had been +so gracious to the Samaritan woman at the well--would He turn from her +the graciousness of His dear eyes, and bid her go out for ever from +among the faithful? Madame Zamenoy would tell her so, and so would +Sister Teresa, an old nun, who was on most friendly terms with Madame +Zamenoy, and whom Nina altogether hated; and so would the priest, to +whom, alas! she would be bound to give faith. And if this were so, +whither should she turn for comfort? She could not become a Jewess! She +might call herself one; but how could she be a Jewess with her strong +faith in St Nicholas, who was the saint of her own Church, and in St +John of the River, and in the Madonna? No; she must be an outcast from +all religions, a Pariah, one devoted absolutely to the everlasting +torments which lie beyond Purgatory--unless, indeed, unless that mild- +eyed Saviour would be content to take her faith and her acts of hidden +worship, despite her aunt, despite that odious nun, and despite the +very priest himself! She did not know how this might be with her, but +she did know that all the teaching of her life was against any such +hope. + +But what was--what could be the good of such thoughts to her? Had not +things gone too far with her for such thoughts to be useful? She loved +the Jew, and had told him so; and not all the penalties with which the +priests might threaten her could lessen her love, or make her think of +her safety here or hereafter, as a thing to be compared with her love. +Religion was much to her; the fear of the everlasting wrath of Heaven +was much to her; but love was paramount! What if it were her soul? +Would she not give even her soul for her love, if, for her love's sake, +her soul should be required from her? When she reached the archway, she +had made up her mind that she would tell her aunt first, and that she +would do so early on the following day. Were she to tell her father +first, her father might probably forbid her to speak on the subject to +Madame Zamenoy, thinking that his own eloquence and that of the priest +might prevail to put an end to so terrible an iniquity, and that so +Madame Zamenoy might never learn the tidings. Nina, thinking of all +this, and being quite determined that the Zamenoys should know what +she intended to tell them, resolved that she would say nothing on that +night at home. + +"You are very late, Nina," said her father to her, crossly, as soon +as she entered the room in which they lived. It was a wide apartment, +having in it now but little furniture--two rickety tables, a few +chairs, an old bureau in which Balatka kept, under lock and key, all +that still belonged to him personally, and a little desk, which was +Nina's own repository. + +"Yes, father, I am late; but not very late. I have been with Anton +Trendellsohn." + +"And what have you been there for now?" + +"Anton Trendellsohn has been talking to me about the papers which uncle +Karil has. He wants to have them himself. He says they are his." + +"I suppose he means that we are to be turned out of the old house." + +"No, father; he does not mean that. He is not a cruel man. But he says +that--that he cannot settle anything about the property without having +the papers. I suppose that is true." + +"He has the rent of the other houses," said Balatka. + +"Yes; but if the papers are his, he ought to have them." + +"Did he send for them?" + +"No, father; he did not send." + +"And what made you go?" + +"I am so of often going there. He had spoken to me before about this. +He thinks you do not like him to come here, and you never go there +yourself." + +After this there was a pause for a few minutes, and Nina was settling +herself to her work. Then the old man spoke again. + +"Nina, I fear you see too much of Anton Trendellsohn." The words were +the very words of Souchey; and Nina was sure that her father and the +servant had been discussing her conduct. It was no more than she had +expected, but her father's words had come very quickly upon Souchey's +speech to herself. What did it signify? Everybody would know it all +before twenty-four hours had passed by. Nina, however, was determined +to defend herself at the present moment, thinking that there was +something of injustice in her father's remarks. "As for seeing him +often, father, I have done it because your business has required it. +When you were ill in April I had to be there almost daily." + +"But you need not have gone to-night. He did not send for you." + +"But it is needful that something should be done to get for him that +which is his own." As she said this there came to her a sting of +conscience, a thought that reminded her that, though she was not lying +to her father in words, she was in fact deceiving him; and remembering +her assertion to her lover that she had never spoken falsely to her +father, she blushed with shame as she sat in the darkness of her seat. + +"To-morrow father," she said, "I will talk to you more about this, and +you shall not at any rate say that I keep anything from you." + +"I have never said so, Nina." + +"It is late now, father. Will you not go to bed?" + +Old Balatka yielded to this suggestion, and went to his bed; and Nina, +after some hour or two, went to hers. But before doing so she opened +the little desk that stood in the corner of their sitting-room, of +which the key was always in her pocket, and took out everything that it +contained. There were many letters there, of which most were on matters +of business--letters which in few houses would come into the hands of +such a one as Nina Balatka, but which, through the weakness of her +father's health, had come into hers. Many of these she now read; some +few she tore and burned in the stove, and others she tied in bundles +and put back carefully into their place. There was not a paper in the +desk which did not pass under her eye, and as to which she did not come +to some conclusion, either to keep it or to burn it. There were no +love-letters there. Nina Balatka had never yet received such a letter +as that. She saw her lover too frequently to feel much the need of +written expressions of love; and such scraps of his writing as there +were in the bundles, referred altogether to small matters of business. +When she had thus arranged her papers, she too went to bed. On the next +morning, when she gave her father his breakfast, she was very silent. +She made for him a little chocolate, and cut for him a few slips of +white bread to dip into it. For herself, she cut a slice from a black +loaf made of rye flour, and mixed with water a small quantity of the +thin sour wine of the country. Her meal may have been worth perhaps a +couple of kreutzers, or something less than a penny, whereas that of +her father may have cost twice as much. Nina was a close and sparing +housekeeper, but with all her economy she could not feed three people +upon nothing. Latterly, from month to month, she had sold one thing out +of the house after another, knowing as each article went that provision +from such store as that must soon fail her. But anything was better +than taking money from her aunt whom she hated--except taking money +from the Jew whom she loved. From him she had taken none, though it had +been often offered. "You have lost more than enough by father," she had +said to him when the offer had been made. "What I give to the wife of +my bosom shall never be reckoned as lost," he had answered. She had +loved him for the words, and had pressed his hand in hers--but she had +not taken his money. From her aunt some small meagre supply had been +accepted from time to time--a florin or two now, and a florin or two +again--given with repeated intimations on aunt Sophie's part, that +her husband Karil could not be expected to maintain the house in the +Kleinseite. Nina had not felt herself justified in refusing such gifts +from her aunt to her father, but as each occasion came she told herself +that some speedy end must be put to this state of things. Her aunt's +generosity would not sustain her father, and her aunt's generosity +nearly killed herself. On this very morning she would do that which +should certainly put an end to a state of things so disagreeable. +After breakfast, therefore, she started at once for the house in the +Windberg-gasse, leaving her father still in his bed. She walked very +quick, looking neither to the right nor the left, across the bridge, +along the river-side, and then up into the straight ugly streets of the +New Town. The distance from her father's house was nearly two miles, +and yet the journey was made in half an hour. She had never walked so +quickly through the streets of Prague before; and when she reached the +end of the Windberg-gasse, she had to pause a moment to collect her +thoughts and her breath. But it was only for a moment, and then the +bell was rung. + +Yes; her aunt was at home. At ten in the morning that was a matter of +course. She was shown, not into the grand drawing-room, which was only +used on grand occasions, but into a little back parlour which, in spite +of the wealth and magnificence of the Zamenoys, was not so clean as the +room in the Kleinseite, and certainly not so comfortable as the Jew's +apartment. There was no carpet; but that was not much, as carpets in +Prague were not in common use. There were two tables crowded with +things needed for household purposes, half-a-dozen chairs of different +patterns, a box of sawdust close under the wall, placed there that +papa Zamenoy might spit into it when it pleased him. There was a crowd +of clothes and linen hanging round the stove, which projected far into +the room; and spread upon the table, close to which was placed mamma +Zamenoy's chair, was an article of papa Zamenoy's dress, on which mamma +Zamenoy was about to employ her talents in the art of tailoring. All +this, however, was nothing to Nina, nor was the dirt on the floor much +to her, though she had often thought that if she were to go and live +with aunt Sophie, she would contrive to make some improvement as to the +cleanliness of the house. + +"Your aunt will be down soon," said Lotta Luxa as they passed through +the passage. "She is very angry, Nina, at not seeing you all the last +week." + +"I don't know why she should be angry, Lotta. I did not say I would +come." + +Lotta Luxa was a sharp little woman, over forty years of age, with +quick green eyes and thin red-tipped nose, looking as though Paris +might have been the town of her birth rather than Prague. She wore +short petticoats, clean stockings, an old pair of slippers; and in the +back of her hair she still carried that Diana's dart which maidens wear +in those parts when they are not only maidens unmarried, but maidens +also disengaged. No one had yet succeeded in drawing Lotta Luxa's arrow +from her head, though Souchey, from the other side of the river, had +made repeated attempts to do so. For Lotta Luxa had a little money of +her own, and poor Souchey had none. Lotta muttered something about the +thoughtless thanklessness of young people, and then took herself down- +stairs. Nina opened the door of the back parlour, and found her cousin +Ziska sitting alone with his feet propped upon the stove. + +"What, Ziska," she said, "you not at work by ten o'clock!" + +"I was not well last night, and took physic this morning," said Ziska. +"Something had disagreed with me." + +"I'm sorry for that, Ziska. You eat too much fruit, I suppose." + +"Lotta says it was the sausage, but I don't think it was. I'm very fond +of sausage, and everybody must be ill sometimes. She'll be down here +again directly;" and Ziska with his head nodded at the chair in which +his mother was wont to sit. + +Nina, whose mind was quite full of her business, was determined to go +to work at once. "I'm glad to have you alone for a moment, Ziska," she +said. + +"And so am I very glad; only I wish I had not taken physic, it makes +one so uncomfortable." + +At this moment Nina had in her heart no charity towards her cousin, and +did not care for his discomfort. "Ziska," she said, "Anton Trendellsohn +wants to have the papers about the houses in the Kleinseite. He says +that they are his, and you have them." + +Ziska hated Anton Trendellsohn, hardly knowing why he hated him. "If +Trendellsohn wants anything of us," said he, "why does he not come to +the office? He knows where to find us." + +"Yes, Ziska, he knows where to find you; but, as he says, he has no +business with you--no business as to which he can make a demand. He +thinks, therefore, you would merely bid him begone." + +"Very likely. One doesn't want to see more of a Jew than one can help." + +"That Jew, Ziska, owns the house in which father lives. That Jew, +Ziska, is the best friend that--that--that father has." + +"I'm sorry you think so, Nina." + +"How can I help thinking it? You can't deny, nor can uncle, that the +houses belong to him. The papers got into uncle's hands when he and +father were together, and I think they ought to be given up now. Father +thinks that the Trendellsohns should have them. Even though they are +Jews, they have a right to their own." + +"You know nothing about it, Nina. How should you know about such things +as that?" + +"I am driven to know. Father is ill, and cannot come himself." + +"Oh, laws! I am so uncomfortable. I never will take stuff from Lotta +Luxa again. She thinks a man is the same as a horse." + +This little episode put a stop to the conversation about the title- +deeds, and then Madame Zamenoy entered the room. Madame Zamenoy was a +woman of a portly demeanour, well fitted to do honour by her personal +presence to that carriage and horses with which Providence and an +indulgent husband had blessed her. And when she was dressed in her +full panoply of French millinery--the materials of which had come from +England, and the manufacture of which had taken place in Prague--she +looked the carriage and horses well enough. But of a morning she was +accustomed to go about the house in a pale-tinted wrapper, which, pale- +tinted as it was, should have been in the washing-tub much oftener than +was the case with it--if not for cleanliness, then for mere decency of +appearance. + +And the mode in which she carried her matutinal curls, done up with +black pins, very visible to the eye, was not in itself becoming. The +handkerchief which she wore in lieu of cap, might have been excused on +the score of its ugliness, as Madame Zamenoy was no longer young, had +it not been open to such manifest condemnation for other sins. And in +this guise she would go about the house from morning to night on days +not made sacred by the use of the carriage. Now Lotta Luxa was clean in +the midst of her work; and one would have thought that the cleanliness +of the maid would have shamed the slatternly ways of the mistress. But +Madame Zamenoy and Lotta Luxa had lived together long, and probably +knew each other well. + +"Well, Nina," she said, "so you've come at last?" + +"Yes; I've come, aunt. And as I want to say something very particular +to you yourself, perhaps Ziska won't mind going out of the room for a +minute." Nina had not sat down since she had been in the room, and was +now standing before her aunt with almost militant firmness. She was +resolved to rush at once at the terrible subject which she had in hand, +but she could not do so in the presence of her cousin Ziska. + +Ziska groaned audibly. "Ziska isn't well this morning," said Madame +Zamenoy, "and I do not wish to have him disturbed." + +"Then perhaps you'll come into the front parlour, aunt." + +"What can there be that you cannot say before Ziska?" + +"There is something, aunt," said Nina. + +If there were a secret, Madame Zamenoy decidedly wished to hear it, and +therefore, after pausing to consider the matter for a moment or two, +she led the way into the front parlour. + +"And now, Nina, what is it? I hope you have not disturbed me in this +way for anything that is a trifle." + +"It is no trifle to me, aunt. I am going to be married to--Anton +Trendellsohn." She said the words slowly, standing bolt-upright, at her +greatest height, as she spoke them, and looking her aunt full in the +face with something of defiance both in her eyes and in the tone of +her voice. She had almost said, "Anton Trendellsohn, the Jew;" and when +her speech was finished, and admitted of no addition, she reproached +herself with pusillanimity in that she had omitted the word which had +always been so odious, and would now be doubly odious--odious to her +aunt in a tenfold degree. + +Madame Zamenoy stood for a while speechless--struck with horror. +The tidings which she heard were so unexpected, so strange, and so +abominable, that they seemed at first to crush her. Nina was her +niece--her sister's child; and though she might be repudiated, +reviled, persecuted, and perhaps punished, still she must retain her +relationship to her injured relatives. And it seemed to Madame Zamenoy +as though the marriage of which Nina spoke was a thing to be done at +once, out of hand--as though the disgusting nuptials were to take place +on that day or on the next, and could not now be avoided. It occurred +to her that old Balatka himself was a consenting party, and that utter +degradation was to fall upon the family instantly. There was that in +Nina's air and manner, as she spoke of her own iniquity, which made the +elder woman feel for the moment that she was helpless to prevent the +evil with which she was threatened. + +"Anton Trendellsohn--a Jew," she said, at last. + +"Yes, aunt; Anton Trendellsohn, the Jew. I am engaged to him as his +wife." + +There was a something of doubtful futurity in the word engaged, which +gave a slight feeling of relief to Madame Zamenoy, and taught her to +entertain a hope that there might be yet room for escape. "Marry a Jew, +Nina," she said; "it cannot be possible!" + +"It is possible, aunt. Other Jews in Prague have married Christians." + +"Yes, I know it. There have been outcasts among us low enough so to +degrade themselves--low women who were called Christians. There has +been no girl connected with decent people who has ever so degraded +herself. Does your father know of this?" + +"Not yet." + +"Your father knows nothing of it, and you come and tell me that you are +engaged--to a Jew!" Madame Zamenoy had so far recovered herself that +she was now able to let her anger mount above her misery. "You wicked +girl! Why have you come to me with such a story as this?" + +"Because it is well that you should know it. I did not like to deceive +you, even by secrecy. You will not be hurt. You need not notice me any +longer. I shall be lost to you, and that will be all." + +"If you were to do such a thing you would disgrace us. But you will not +be allowed to do it." + +"But I shall do it." + +"Nina!" + +"Yes, aunt. I shall do it. Do you think I will be false to my troth?" + +"Your troth to a Jew is nothing. Father Jerome will tell you so." + +"I shall not ask Father Jerome. Father Jerome, of course, will condemn +me; but I shall not ask him whether or not I am to keep my promise--my +solemn promise." + +"And why not?" + +Then Nina paused a moment before she answered. But she did answer, and +answered with that bold defiant air which at first had disconcerted her +aunt. + +"I will ask no one, aunt Sophie, because I love Anton Trendellsohn, and +have told him that I love him." + +"Pshaw!" + +"I have nothing more to say, aunt. I thought it right to tell you, and +now I will go." + +She had turned to the door, and had her hand upon the lock when her +aunt stopped her. "Wait a moment, Nina. You have had your say; now you +must hear me." + +"I will hear you if you say nothing against him." + +"I shall say what I please." + +"Then I will not hear you." Nina again made for the door, but her aunt +intercepted her retreat. "Of course you can stop me, aunt, in that way +if you choose." + +"You bold, bad girl!" + +"You may say what you please about myself." + +"You are a bold, bad girl!" + +"Perhaps I am. Father Jerome says we are all bad. And as for boldness, +I have to be bold." + +"You are bold and brazen. Marry a Jew! It is the worst thing a +Christian girl could do." + +"No, it is not. There are things ten times worse than that." + +"How you could dare to come and tell me!" + +"I did dare, you see. If I had not told you, you would have called me +sly." + +"You are sly." + +"I am not sly. You tell me I am bad and bold and brazen." + +"So you are." + +"Very likely. I do not say I am not. But I am not sly. Now, will you +let me go, aunt Sophie?" + +"Yes, you may go--you may go; but you may not come here again till this +thing has been put an end to. Of course I shall see your father and +Father Jerome, and your uncle will see the police. You will be locked +up, and Anton Trendellsohn will be sent out of Bohemia. That is how it +will end. Now you may go." And Nina went her way. + +Her aunt's threat of seeing her father and the priest was nothing to +Nina. It was the natural course for her aunt to take, and a course in +opposition to which Nina was prepared to stand her ground firmly. But +the allusion to the police did frighten her. She had thought of the +power which the law might have over her very often, and had spoken of +it in awe to her lover. He had reassured her, explaining to her that, +as the law now stood in Austria, no one but her father could prevent +her marriage with a Jew, and that he could only do so till she was of +age. Now Nina would be twenty-one on the first of the coming month, and +therefore would be free, as Anton told her, to do with herself as she +pleased. But still there came over her a cold feeling of fear when her +aunt spoke to her of the police. The law might give the police no power +over her; but was there not a power in the hands of those armed men +whom she saw around her on every side, and who were seldom countrymen +of her own, over and above the law? Were there not still dark dungeons +and steel locks and hard hearts? Though the law might justify her, how +would that serve her, if men--if men and women, were determined to +persecute her? As she walked home, however, she resolved that dark +dungeons and steel locks and hard hearts might do their worst against +her. She had set her will upon one thing in this world, and from +that one thing no persecution should drive her. They might kill her, +perhaps. Yes, they might kill her; and then there would be an end of +it. But to that end she would force them to come before she would +yield. So much she swore to herself as she walked home on that morning +to the Kleinseite. + +Madame Zamenoy, when Nina left her, sat in solitary consideration for +some twenty minutes, and then called for her chief confidant, Lotta +Luxa. With many expressions of awe, and with much denunciation of her +niece's iniquity, she told to Lotta what she had heard, speaking of +Nina as one who was utterly lost and abandoned. Lotta, however, did not +express so much indignant surprise as her mistress expected, though she +was willing enough to join in abuse against Nina Balatka. + +"That comes of letting girls go about just as they please among the +men," said Lotta. + +"But a Jew!" said Madame Zamenoy. "If it had been any kind of a +Christian, I could understand it." + +"Trendellsohn has such a hold upon her, and upon her father," said +Lotta. + +"But a Jew! She has been to confession, has she not?" + +"Regularly," said Lotta Luxa. + +"Dear, dear! what a false hypocrite! And at mass?" + +"Four mornings a-week always." + +"And to tell me, after it all, that she means to marry a Jew. Of +course, Lotta, we must prevent it." + +"But how? Her father will do whatever she bids him." + +"Father Jerome would do anything for me." + +"Father Jerome can do little or nothing if she has the bit between her +teeth," said Lotta. "She is as obstinate as a mule when she pleases. She +is not like other girls. You cannot frighten her out of anything." + +"I'll try, at least," said Madame Zamenoy. + +"Yes, we can try," said Lotta. + +"Would not the mayor help us--that is, if we were driven to go to +that?" + +"I doubt if he could do anything. He would be afraid to use a high +hand. He is Bohemian. The head of the police might do something, if +we could get at him." + +"She might be taken away." + +"Where could they take her?" asked Lotta. "No; they could not take her +anywhere." + +"Not into a convent--out of the way somewhere in Italy?" + +"Oh, heaven, no! They are afraid of that sort of thing now. All Prague +would know of it, and would talk; and the Jews would be stronger than +the priests; and the English people would hear of it, and there would +be the very mischief." + +"The times have come to be very bad, Lotta." + +"That's as may be," said Lotta as though she had her doubts upon the +subject. "That's as may be. But it isn't easy to put a young woman +away now without her will. Things have changed--partly for the worse, +perhaps, and partly for the better. Things are changing every day. My +wonder is that he should wish to many her." + +"The men think her very pretty. Ziska is mad about her," said Madame +Zamenoy. + +"But Ziska is a calf to Anton Trendellsohn. Anton Trendellsohn has cut +his wise teeth. Like them all, he loves his money; and she has not got +a kreutzer." + +"But he has promised to marry her. You may be sure of that." + +"Very likely. A man always promises that when he wants a girl to be +kind to him. But why should he stick to it? What can he get by marrying +Nina--a penniless girl, with a pauper for a father? The Trendellsohns +have squeezed that sponge dry already." + +This was a new light to Madame Zamenoy, and one that was not altogether +unpleasant to her eyes. That her niece should have promised herself to +a Jew was dreadful, and that her niece should be afterwards jilted by +the Jew was a poor remedy. But still it was a remedy, and therefore she +listened. + +"If nothing else can be done, we could perhaps put him against it," +said Lotta Luxa. + +Madame Zamenoy on that occasion said but little more, but she agreed +with her servant that it would be better to resort to any means than +to submit to the degradation of an alliance with the Jew. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +On the third day after Nina's visit to her aunt, Ziska Zamenoy came +across to the Kleinseite on a visit to old Balatka. In the mean time +Nina had told the story of her love to her father, and the effect on +Balatka had simply been that he had not got out of his bed since. For +himself he would have cared, perhaps, but little as to the Jewish +marriage, had he not known that those belonging to him would have cared +so much. He had no strong religious prejudice of his own, nor indeed +had he strong feeling of any kind. He loved his daughter, and wished +her well; but even for her he had been unable to exert himself in his +younger days, and now simply expected from her hands all the comfort +which remained to him in this world. The priest he knew would attack +him, and to the priest he would be able to make no answer. But to +Trendellsohn, Jew as he was, he would trust in worldly matters, rather +than to the Zamenoys; and were it not that he feared the Zamenoys, and +could not escape from his close connection with them, he would have +been half inclined to let the girl marry the Jew. Souchey, indeed, had +frightened him on the subject when it had first been mentioned to him; +and Nina, coming with her own assurance so quickly after Souchey's +suspicion, had upset him; but his feeling in regard to Nina had none +of that bitter anger, no touch of that abhorrence which animated the +breast of his sister-in-law. When Ziska came to him he was alone in +his bedroom. Ziska had heard the news, as had all the household in the +Windberg-gasse, and had come over to his uncle's house to see what he +could do, by his own diplomacy, to put an end to an engagement which +was to him doubly calamitous. "Uncle Josef," he said, sitting by the +old man's bed, have you heard what Nina is doing?" + +"What she is doing!" said the uncle. "What is she doing?" Balatka +feared all the Zamenoys, down to Lotta Luxa; but he feared Ziska less +than he feared any other of the household. + +"Have you heard of Anton Trendellsohn?" + +"What of Anton Trendellsohn? I have been hearing of Anton Trendellsohn +for the last thirty years. I have known him since he was born." + +"Do you wish to have him for a son-in-law?" + +"For a son-in-law?" + +"Yes, for a son-in-law--Anton Trendellsohn, the Jew. Would he be a good +husband for our Nina? You say nothing, uncle Josef." + +"What am I to say?" + +"You have heard of it, then? Why can you not answer me, uncle Josef? +Have you heard that Trendellsohn has dared to ask Nina to be his wife?" + +"There is not so much of daring in it, Ziska. Among you all the poor +girl is a beggar. If some one does not take pity on her, she will +starve soon." + +"Take pity on her! Do not we all take pity on her?" + +"No," said Josef Balatka, turning angrily against his nephew; "not a +scrap of pity--not a morsel of love. You cannot rid yourself of her +quite--of her or me--and that is your pity." + +"You are wrong there." + +"Very well; then let me be wrong. I can understand what is before my +eyes. Look round the house and see what we are coming to. Nina at the +present moment has not got a florin in her purse. We are starving, or +next to it, and yet you wonder that she should be willing to marry an +honest man who has plenty of money." + +"But he is a Jew!" + +"Yes; he is a Jew. I know that." + +"And Nina knows it." + +"Of course she does. Do you go home and eat nothing for a week, and +then see whether a Jew's bread will poison you." + +"But to marry him, uncle Josef!" + +"It is very bad. I know it is bad, but what can I do? If she says she +will do it, how can I help it? She has been a good child to me--a very +good child; and am I to lie here and see her starve? You would not give +to your dog the morsel of bread which she ate this morning before she +went out." + +All this was a new light to Ziska. He knew that his uncle and cousin +were very poor, and had halted in his love because he was ashamed +of their poverty; but he had never thought of them as people hungry +from want of food, or cold from want of clothes. It may be said of +him, to his credit, that his love had been too strong for his shame, +and that he had made up his mind to marry his cousin Nina in spite +of her poverty. When Lotta Luxa had called him a calf she had not +inappropriately defined one side of his character. He was a good- +looking well-grown young man, not very wise, quickly susceptible to +female influences, and gifted with eyes capable of convincing him +that Nina Balatka was by far the prettiest woman whom he ever saw. But, +in connection with such calf-like propensities, Ziska was endowed with +something of his mother's bitterness and of his father's persistency; +and the old Zamenoys did not fear but that the fortunes of the family +would prosper in the hands of their son. And when it was known to +Madame Zamenoy and to her husband Karil that Ziska had set his heart +upon having his cousin, they had expressed no displeasure at the +prospect, poor as the Balatkas were. "There is no knowing how it may +go about the houses in the Kleinseite," Karil Zamenoy had said. "Old +Trendellsohn gets the rent and the interest, but he has little or +nothing to show for them--merely a written surrender from Josef, +which is worth nothing." No hindrance, therefore was placed in the +way of Ziska's suit, and Nina might have been already accepted in the +Windberg-gasse had Nina chosen to smile upon Ziska. Now Ziska was told +that the girl he loved was to marry a Jew because she was starving, +and the tidings threw a new light upon him. Why had he not offered +assistance to Nina? It was not surprising that Nina should be so hard +to him--to him who had as yet offered her nothing in her poverty but +a few cold compliments. + +"She shall have bread enough, if that is what she wants," said Ziska. + +"Bread and kindness," said the old man. + +"She shall have kindness too, uncle Josef. I love Nina better than any +Jew in Prague can love her." + +"Why should not a Jew love? I believe the man loves her well. Why else +should he wish to make her his wife?" + +"And I love her well--and I would make her my wife." + +"You want to marry Nina!" + +"Yes, uncle Josef. I wish to marry Nina. I will marry her to-morrow-- +or, for that matter, to-day--if she will have me." + +"You! Ziska Zamenoy!" + +"I, Ziska Zamenoy." + +"And what would your mother say?" + +"Both father and mother will consent. There need be no hindrance if +Nina will agree. I did not know that you were so badly off. I did not +indeed, or I would have come to you myself and seen to it." + +Old Balatka did not answer for a while, having turned himself in his +bed to think of the proposition which had been made to him. "Would you +not like to have me for a son-in-law better than a Jew, uncle Josef?" +said Ziska, pleading for himself as best he knew how to plead. + +"Have you ever spoken to Nina?" said the old man. + +"Well, no; not exactly to say what I have said to you. When one loves a +girl as I love her, somehow--I don't know how--But I am ready to do so +at once. + +"Ah, Ziska, if you had done it sooner!" + +"But is it too late? You say she has taken up with this man because you +are both so poor. She cannot like a Jew best." + +"But she is true--so true!" + +"If you mean about her promise to Trendellsohn, Father Jerome would +tell her in a minute that she should not keep such a promise to a Jew." + +"She would not mind Father Jerome." + +"And what does she mind? Will she not mind you?" + +"Me; yes--she will mind me, to give me my food." + +"Will she not obey you?" + +"How am I to bid her obey me? But I will try, Ziska." + +"You would not wish her to marry a Jew?" + +"No, Ziska; certainly I should not wish it." + +"And you will give me your consent?" + +"Yes, if it be any good to you." + +"It will be good if you will be round with her, telling her that she +must not do such a thing as this. Love a Jew! It is impossible. As +you have been so very poor, she may be forgiven for having thought of +it. Tell her that, uncle Josef; and whatever you do, be firm with her." + +"There she is in the next room," said the father, who had heard his +daughter's entrance. Ziska's face had assumed something of a defiant +look while he was recommending firmness to the old man; but now that +the girl of whom he had spoken was so near at hand, there returned to +his brow the young calf-like expression with which Lotta Luxa was so +well acquainted. "There she is, and you will speak to her yourself +now," said Balatka. + +Ziska got up to go, but as he did so he fumbled in his pocket and +brought forth a little bundle of bank-notes. A bundle of bank-notes in +Prague may be not little, and yet represent very little money. When +bank-notes are passed for two-pence and become thick with use, a man +may have a great mass of paper currency in his pocket without being +rich. On this occasion, however, Ziska tendered to his uncle no two- +penny notes. There was a note for five florins, and two or three for +two florins, and perhaps half-a-dozen for a florin each, so that the +total amount offered was sufficient to be of real importance to one +so poor as Josef Balatka. + +"This will help you awhile," said Ziska, "and if Nina will come round +and be a good girl, neither you nor she shall want anything; and she +need not be afraid of mother, if she will only do as I say." Balatka +had put out his hand and had taken the money, when the bedroom door was +opened, and Nina came in. + +"What, Ziska," said she, "are you here?" + +"Why not? why should I not see my uncle?" + +"It is very good of you, certainly; only, as you never came before--" + +"I mean it for kindness, now I have come, at any rate," said Ziska. + +"Then I will take it for kindness," said Nina. + +"Why should there be quarrelling among relatives?" said the old man +from among the bed-clothes. + +"Why, indeed?" said Ziska. + +"Why, indeed," said Nina, "--if it could be helped?" + +She knew that the outward serenity of the words spoken was too good to +be a fair representation of thoughts below in the mind of any of them. +It could not be that Ziska had come there to express even his own +consent to her marriage with Anton Trendellsohn; and without such +consent there must of necessity be a continuation of quarrelling. "Have +you been speaking to father, Ziska, about those papers?" Nina was +determined that there should be no glozing of matters, no soft words +used effectually to stop her in her projected course. So she rushed at +once at the subject which she thought most important in Ziska's +presence. + +"What papers?" said Ziska. + +"The papers which belong to Anton Trendellsohn about this house and the +others. They are his, and you would not wish to keep things which +belong to another, even though he should be a--Jew." + +Then it occurred to Ziska that Trendellsohn might be willing to give +up Nina if he got the papers, and that Nina might be willing to be +free from the Jew by the same arrangement. It could not be that such a +girl as Nina Balatka should prefer the love of a Jew to the love of a +Christian. So at least Ziska argued in his own mind. "I do not want to +keep anything that belongs to anybody," said Ziska. "If the papers are +with us, I am willing that they should be given up--that is, if it be +right that they should be given up." + +"It is right," said Nina. + +"I believe the Trendellsohns should have them--either father or son," +said old Balatka. + +"Of course they should have them," said Nina; "either father or son--it +makes no matter which." + +"I will try and see to it," said Ziska. + +"Pray do," said Nina; "it will be only just; and one would not wish +to rob even a Jew, I suppose." Ziska understood nothing of what was +intended by the tone of her voice, and began to think that there might +really be ground for hope. + +"Nina," he said, "your father is not quite well. I want you to speak to +me in the next room." + +"Certainly, Ziska, if you wish it. Father, I will come again to you +soon. Souchey is making your soup, and I will bring it to you when it +is ready." Then she led the way into the sitting-room, and as Ziska +came through, she carefully shut the door. The walls dividing the rooms +were very thick, and the door stood in a deep recess, so that no sound +could be heard from one room to another. Nina did not wish that her +father should hear what might now pass between herself and her cousin, +and therefore she was careful to shut the door close. + +"Ziska," said she, as soon as they were together, "I am very glad that +you have come here. My aunt is so angry with me that I cannot speak +with her, and uncle Karil only snubs me if I say a word to him about +business. He would snub me, no doubt, worse than ever now; and yet who +is there here to speak of such matters if I may not do so? You see how +it is with father." + +"He is not able to do much, I suppose." + +"He is able to do nothing, and there is nothing for him to do--nothing +that can be of any use. But of course he should see that those who have +been good to him are not--are not injured because of their kindness." + +"You mean those Jews--the Trendellsohns." + +"Yes, those Jews the Trendellsohns! You would not rob a man because he +is a Jew," said she, repeating the old words. + +"They know how to take care of themselves, Nina." + +"Very likely." + +"They have managed to get all your father's property between them." + +"I don't know how that is. Father says that the business which uncle +and you have was once his, and that he made it. In these matters the +weakest always goes to the wall. Father has no son to help him, as +uncle Karil has--and old Trendellsohn." + +"You may help him better than any son." + +"I will help him if I can. Will you and uncle give up those papers +which you have kept since father left them with uncle Karil, just that +they might be safe?" + +This question Ziska would not answer at once. The matter was one on +which he wished to negotiate, and he was driven to the necessity of +considering what might be the best line for his diplomacy. "I am sure, +Ziska," continued Nina, "you will understand why I ask this. Father is +too weak to make the demand, and uncle would listen to nothing that +Anton Trendellsohn would say to him." + +"They say that you have betrothed yourself to this Jew, Nina." + +"It is true. But that has nothing to do with it." + +"He is very anxious to have the deeds?" + +"Of course he is anxious. Father is old and poorly; and what would he +do if father were to die?" + +"Nina, he shall have them--if he will give you up." + +Nina turned away from her cousin and looked out from the window into +the little court. Ziska could not see her face; but had he done so he +would not have been able to read the smile of triumph with which for a +moment or two it became brilliant. No; Anton would make no such bargain +as that! Anton loved her better than any title-deeds. Had he not told +her that she was his sun--the sun that gave to him light and heat? "If +they are his own, why should he be asked to make any such bargain?" +said Nina. + +"Nina," said Ziska, throwing all his passion into his voice, as he best +knew how, "it cannot be that you should love this man." + +"Why not love him?" + +"A Jew!" + +"Yes--a Jew! I do love him." + +"Nina!" + +"What have you to say, Ziska? Whatever you say, do not abuse him. It is +my affair, not yours. You may think what you like of me for taking such +a husband, but remember that he is to be my husband." + +"Nina, let me be your husband." + +"No, Ziska; that cannot be." + +"I love you. I love you fifty times better than he can do. Is not a +Christian's love better than a Jew's?" + +"Because I do not love you. Can there be any other reason in such a +matter? I do not love you. I do not care if I never see you. But him I +love with all my heart. To see him is the only delight of my life. To +sit beside him, with his hand in mine, and my head on his shoulder, is +heaven to me. To obey him is my duty; to serve him is my pleasure. To +be loved by him is the only good thing which God has given me on earth. +Now, Ziska, you will know why I cannot be your wife." Still she stood +before him, and still she looked up into his face, keeping her gaze +upon him even after her words were finished. + +"Accursed Jew!" said Ziska. + +"That is right, Ziska; curse him; it is so easy." + +"And you too will be cursed--here and hereafter. If you marry a Jew you +will be accursed to all eternity." + +"That, too, is very easy to say." + +"It is not I who say it. The priest will tell you the same." + +"Let him tell me so; it is his business, but it is not yours. You say +it because you cannot have what you want yourself; that is all. When +shall I call in the Ross Markt for the papers?" In the Ross Markt was +the house of business of Karil Zamenoy, and there, as Nina well knew, +were kept the documents which she was so anxious to obtain. But the +demand at this moment was made simply with the object of vexing Ziska, +and urging him on to further anger. + +"Unless you will give up Anton Trendellsohn, you had better not come to +the Ross Markt." + +"I will never give him up." + +"We will see. Perhaps he will give you up after a while. It will be a +fine thing to be jilted by a Jew." + +"The Jew, at any rate, shall not be jilted by the Christian. And now, +if you please, I will ask you to go. I do not choose to be insulted in +father's house. It is his house still." + +"Nina, I will give you one more chance." + +"You can give me no chance that will do you or me any good. If you will +go, that is all I want of you now." + +For a moment or two Ziska stood in doubt as to what he would next do +or say. Then he took up his hat and went away without another word. On +that same evening some one rang the bell at the door of the house in +the Windberg-gasse in a most humble manner--with that weak, hesitating +hand which, by the tone which it produces, seems to insinuate that no +one need hurry to answer such an appeal, and that the answer, when +made, may be made by the lowest personage in the house. In this +instance, however, Lotta Luxa did answer the bell, and not the stout +Bohemian girl who acted in the household of Madame Zamenoy as assistant +and fag to Lotta. And Lotta found Nina at the door, enveloped in her +cloak. "Lotta," she said, "will you kindly give this to my cousin +Ziska?" Then, not waiting for a word, she started away so quickly that +Lotta had not a chance of speaking to her, no power of uttering an +audible word of abuse. When Ziska opened the parcel thus brought to +him, he found it to contain all the notes which he had given to Josef +Balatka. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +When Nina returned to her father after Ziska's departure, a very few +words made everything clear between them. "I would not have him if +there was not another man in the world," Nina had said. "He thinks that +it is only Anton Trendellsohn that prevents it, but he knows nothing +about what a girl feels. He thinks that because we are poor I am to be +bought, this way or that way, by a little money. Is that a man, father, +that any girl can love?" Then the father had confessed his receipt of +the bank-notes from Ziska, and we already know to what result that +confession had led. + +Till she had delivered her packet into the hands of Lotta Luxa, she +maintained her spirits by the excitement of the thing she was doing. +Though she should die in the streets of hunger, she would take no money +from Ziska Zamenoy. But the question now was not only of her wants, but +of her father's. That she, for herself, would be justified in returning +Ziska's money there could be no doubt; but was she equally justified in +giving back money that had been given to her father? As she walked to +the Windberg-gasse, still holding the parcel of notes in her hand, she +had no such qualms of conscience; but as she returned, when it was +altogether too late for repentance, she made pictures to herself of +terrible scenes in which her father suffered all the pangs of want, +because she had compelled him to part with this money. If she were to +say one word to Anton Trendellsohn, all her trouble on that head would +be over. Anton Trendellsohn would at once give her enough to satisfy +their immediate wants. In a month or two, when she would be Anton's +wife, she would not be ashamed to take everything from his hand; and +why should she be ashamed now to take something from him to whom she +was prepared to give everything? But she was ashamed to do so. She felt +that she could not go to him and ask him for bread. One other resource +she had. There remained to her of her mother's property a necklace, +which was all that was left to her from her mother. And when this +had been given to her at her mother's death, she had been specially +enjoined not to part with it. Her father then had been too deeply +plunged in grief to say any words on such a subject, and the gift had +been put into her hands by her aunt Sophie. Even aunt Sophie had been +softened at that moment, and had shown some tenderness to the orphan +child. "You are to keep it always for her sake," aunt Sophie had said; +and Nina had hitherto kept the trinket, when all other things were +gone, in remembrance of her mother. She had hitherto reconciled herself +to keeping her little treasure, when all other things were going, by +the sacredness of the deposit; and had told herself that even for her +father's sake she must not part with the gift which had come to her +from her mother. But now she comforted herself by the reflection that +the necklace would produce for her enough to repay her father that +present from Ziska which she had taken from him. Her father had pleaded +sorely to be allowed to keep the notes. In her emotion at the moment +she had been imperative with him, and her resolution had prevailed. But +she thought of his entreaties as she returned home, and of his poverty +and wants, and she determined that the necklace should go. It would +produce for her at any rate as much as Ziska had given. She wished that +she had brought it with her, as she passed the open door of a certain +pawnbroker, which she had entered often during the last six months, and +whither she intended to take her treasure, so that she might comfort +her father on her return with the sight of the money. But she had it +not, and she went home empty-handed. "And now, Nina, I suppose we may +starve," said her father, whom she found sitting close to the stove in +the kitchen, while Souchey was kneeling before it, putting in at the +little open door morsels of fuel which were lamentably insufficient for +the poor man's purpose of raising a fire. The weather, indeed, was as +yet warm--so warm that in the middle of the day the heat was matter of +complaint to Josef Balatka; but in the evening he would become chill; +and as there existed some small necessity for cooking, he would beg +that he might thus enjoy the warmth of the kitchen. + +"Yes, we shall starve now," said Souchey, complacently. "There is not +much doubt about our starving." + +"Souchey, I wonder you should speak like that before father," said +Nina. + +"And why shouldn't he speak?" said Balatka. "I think he has as much +right as any one." + +"He has no right to make things worse than they are." + +"I don't know how I could do that, Nina," said the servant. "What made +you take that money back to your aunt?" + +"I didn't take it back to my aunt." + +"Well, to any of the family then? I suppose it came from your aunt?" + +"It came from my cousin Ziska, and I thought it better to give it back. +Souchey, do not you come in between father and me. There are troubles +enough; do not you make them worse." + +"If I had been here you should never have taken it back again," said +Souchey, obstinately. + +"Father," said Nina, appealing to the old man, "how could I have kept +it? You knew why it was given." + +"Who is to help us if we may not take it from them?" + +"To-morrow," said Nina, "I can get as much as he brought. And I will, +and you shall see it." + +"Who will give it you, Nina?" + +"Never mind, father, I will have it." + +"She will beg it from her Jew lover," said Souchey. + +"Souchey," said she, with her eyes flashing fire at him, "if you cannot +treat your master's daughter better than that, you may as well go." + +"Is it not true?" demanded Souchey. + +"No, it is not true; it is false. I have never taken money from Anton; +nor shall I do so till we are married." + +"And that will be never," said Souchey. "It is as well to speak out at +once. The priest will not let it be done." + +"All the priests in Prague cannot hinder it," said Nina. + +"That is true," said Balatka. + +"We shall see," said Souchey. "And in the mean time what is the good +of fighting with the Zamenoys? They are your only friends, Nina, and +therefore you take delight in quarrelling with them. When people have +money, they should be allowed to have a little pride." Nina said +nothing further on the occasion, though Souchey and her father went +on grumbling for an hour. She discovered, however, from various words +that her father allowed to fall from him, that his opposition to her +marriage had nearly faded away. It seemed to be his opinion that if she +were to marry the Jew, the sooner she did it the better. Now, Nina was +determined that she would marry the Jew, though heaven and earth should +meet in consequence. She would marry him if he would marry her. They +had told her that the Jew would jilt her. She did not put much faith in +the threat; but even that was more probable than that she should jilt +him. + +On the following morning Souchey, in return, as it were, for his +cruelty to his young mistress on the preceding day, produced some small +store of coin which he declared to be the result of a further sale of +the last relics of his master's property; and Nina's journey with the +necklace to the pawnbroker was again postponed. That day and the next +were passed in the old house without anything to make them memorable +except their wearisome misery, and then Nina again went out to visit +the Jews' quarter. She told herself that she was taken there by the +duties of her position; but in truth she could hardly bear her life +without the comfort of seeing the only person who would speak kindly +to her. She was engaged to marry this man, but she did not know when +she was to be married. She would ask no question of her lover on that +matter; but she could tell him--and she felt herself bound to tell him +--what was really her own position, and also all that she knew of his +affairs. He had given her to understand that he could not marry her +till he had obtained possession of certain documents which he believed +to be in the possession of her uncle. And for these documents she, with +his permission, had made application. She had at any rate discovered +that they certainly were at the office in the Ross Markt. So much she +had learned from Ziska; and so much, at any rate, she was bound to make +known to her lover. And, moreover, since she had seen him she had told +all her relatives of her engagement. They all knew now that she loved +the Jew, and that she had resolved to marry him; and of this also it +was her duty to give him tidings. The result of her communication to +her father and her relatives in the Windberg-gasse had been by no means +so terrible as she had anticipated. The heavens and the earth had not +as yet shown any symptoms of coming together. Her aunt, indeed, had +been very angry; and Lotta Luxa and Souchey had told her that such a +marriage would not be allowed. Ziska, too, had said some sharp words; +and her father, for the first day or two, had expostulated. But the +threats had been weak threats, and she did not find herself to be +annihilated--indeed, hardly to be oppressed--by the scolding of any +of them. What the priest might say she had not yet experienced; but +opposition from other quarters had not as yet come upon her in any +form that was not endurable. Her aunt had intended to consume her with +wrath, but Nina had not found herself to be consumed. All this it was +necessary that she should tell to Anton Trendellsohn. It was grievous +to her that it should be always her lot to go to her lover, and that he +should never--almost never--be able to seek her. It would in truth be +never now, unless she could induce her father to receive Anton openly +as his acknowledged future son-in-law; and she could hardly hope that +her father would yield so far as that. Other girls, she knew, stayed +till their lovers came to them, or met them abroad in public places--at +the gardens and music-halls, or perhaps at church; but no such joys as +these were within reach of Nina. The public gardens, indeed, were open +to her and to Anton Trendellsohn as they were to others; but she knew +that she would not dare to be seen in public with her Jew lover till +the thing was done and she and the Jew had become man and wife. On this +occasion, before she left her home, she was careful to tell her father +where she was going. "Have you any message to the Trendellsohns?" she +asked. + +"So you are going there again?" her father said. + +"Yes, I must see them. I told you that I had a commission from them to +the Zamenoys, which I have performed, and I must let them know what I +did. Besides, father, if this man is to be my husband, is it not well +that I should see him?" Old Balatka groaned, but said nothing further, +and Nina went forth to the Jews' quarter. + +On this occasion she found Trendellsohn the elder standing at the door +of his own house. + +"You want to see Anton," said the Jew. Anton is out. He is away +somewhere in the city--on business." + +"I shall be glad to see you, father, if you can spare me a minute." + +"Certainly, my child--an hour if it will serve you. Hours are not +scarce with me now, as they used to be when I was Anton's age, and as +they are with him now. Hours, and minutes too, are very scarce with +Anton in these days. Then he led the way up the dark stairs to the +sitting-room, and Nina followed him. Nina and the elder Trendellsohn +had always hitherto been friends. Before her engagement with his son +they had been affectionate friends, and since that had been made known +to him there had been no quarrel between them. But the old man had +hardly approved of his son's purpose, thinking that a Jew should look +for the wife of his bosom among his own people, and thinking also, +perhaps, that one who had so much of worldly wealth to offer as his +son should receive something also of the same in his marriage. Old +Trendellsohn had never uttered a word of complaint to Nina--had said +nothing to make her suppose that she was not welcome to the house; but +he had never spoken to her with happy, joy-giving words, as the future +bride of his son. He still called her his daughter, as he had done +before; but he did it only in his old fashion, using the affectionate +familiarity of an old friend to a young maiden. He was a small, aged +man, very thin and meagre in aspect--so meagre as to conceal in part, +by the general tenuity of his aspect, the shortness of his stature. +He was not even so tall as Nina, as Nina had discovered, much to her +surprise. His hair was grizzled, rather than grey, and the beard on his +thin, wiry, wizened face was always close shorn. He was scrupulously +clean in his person, and seemed, even at his age, to take a pride in +the purity and fineness of his linen. He was much older than Nina's +father--more than ten years older, as he would sometimes boast; but he +was still strong and active, while Nina's father was worn out with age. +Old Trendellsohn was eighty, and yet he would be seen trudging about +through the streets of Prague, intent upon his business of money-making; +and it was said that his son Anton was not even as yet actually in +partnership with him, or fully trusted by him in all his plans. + +"Father," Nina said, "I am glad that Anton is out, as now I can speak a +word to you." + +"My dear, you shall speak fifty words." + +"That is very good of you. Of course I know that the house we live in +does in truth belong to you and Anton." + +"Yes, it belongs to me," said the Jew. + +"And we can pay no rent for it." + +"Is it of that you have come to speak, Nina? If so, do not trouble +yourself. For certain reasons, which Anton can explain, I am willing +that your father should live there without rent." + +Nina blushed as she found herself compelled to thank the Jew for his +charity. "I know how kind you have been to father," she said. + +"Nay, my daughter, there has been no great kindness in it. Your father +has been unfortunate, and, Jew as I am, I would not turn him into the +street. Do not trouble yourself to think of it." + +"But it was not altogether about that, father. Anton spoke to me the +other day about some deeds which should belong to you." + +"They do belong to me," said Trendellsohn. + +"But you have them not in your own keeping." + +"No, we have not. It is, I believe, the creed of a Christian that +he may deal dishonestly with a Jew, though the Jew who shall deal +dishonestly with a Christian is to be hanged. It is strange what +latitude men will give themselves under the cloak of their religion! +But why has Anton spoken to you of this? I did not bid him." + +"He sent me with a message to my aunt Sophie." + +"He was wrong; he was very foolish; he should have gone himself." + +"But, father, I have found out that the papers you want are certainly +in my uncle's keeping in the Ross Markt." + +"Of course they are, my dear. Anton might have known that without +employing you." + +So far Nina had performed but a small part of the task which she had +before her. She found it easier to talk to the old man about the title- +deeds of the house in the Kleinseite than she did to tell him of her +own affairs. But the thing was to be done, though the doing of it +was difficult; and, after a pause, she persevered. "And I told aunt +Sophie," she said, with her eyes turned upon the ground, "of my +engagement with Anton." + +"You did?" + +"Yes; and I told father." + +"And what did your father say?" + +"Father did not say much. He is poorly and weak." + +"Yes, yes; not strong enough to fight against the abomination of a Jew +son-in-law. And what did your aunt say? She is strong enough to fight +anybody." + +"She was very angry." + +"I suppose so, I suppose so. Well, she is right. As the world goes in +Prague, my child, you will degrade yourself by marrying a Jew." + +"I want nothing prouder than to be Anton's wife," said Nina. + +"And to speak sooth," said the old man, "the Jew will degrade himself +fully as much by marrying you." + +"Father, I would not have that. If I thought that my love would injure +him, I would leave him." + +"He must judge for himself," said Trendellsohn, relenting somewhat. + +"He must judge for himself and for me too," said Nina. + +"He will be able, at any rate, to keep a house over your head." + +"It is not for that," said Nina, thinking of her cousin Ziska's offer. +She need not want for a house and money if she were willing to sell +herself for such things as them. + +"Anton will be rich, Nina, and you are very poor." + +"Can I help that, father? Such as I am, I am his. If all Prague were +mine I would give it to him." + +The old man shook his head. "A Christian thinks that it is too much +honour for a Jew to marry a Christian, though he be rich, and she have +not a ducat for her dower." + +"Father, your words are cruel. Do you believe I would give Anton my +hand if I did not love him? I do not know much of his wealth; but, +father, I might be the promised wife of a Christian to-morrow, who is, +perhaps, as rich as he--if that were anything." + +"And who is that other lover, Nina?" + +"It matters not. He can be nothing to me--nothing in that way. I love +Anton Trendellsohn, and I could not be the wife of any other but him." + +"I wish it were otherwise. I tell you so plainly to your face. I wish +it were otherwise. Jews and Christians have married in Prague, I know, +but good has never come of it. Anton should find a wife among his own +people; and you--it would be better for you to take that other offer of +which you spoke." + +"It is too late, father." + +"No, Nina, it is not too late. If Anton would be wise, it is not too +late." + +"Anton can do as he pleases. It is too late for me. If Anton thinks it +well to change his mind, I shall not reproach him. You can tell him so, +father--from me." + +"He knows my mind already, Nina. I will tell him, however, what you say +of your own friends. They have heard of your engagement, and are angry +with you, of course." + +"Aunt Sophie and her people are angry." + +"Of course they will oppose it. They will set their priests at you, and +frighten you almost to death. They will drive the life out of your +young heart with their curses. You do not know what sorrows are before +you." + +"I can bear all that. There is only one sorrow that I fear. If Anton is +true to me, I will not mind all the rest." + +The old man's heart was softened towards her. He could not bring +himself to say a word to her of direct encouragement, but he kissed her +before she went, telling her that she was a good girl, and bidding her +have no care as to the house in the Kleinseite. As long as he lived, +and her father, her father should not be disturbed. And as for deeds, +he declared, with something of a grim smile on his old visage, that +though a Jew had always a hard fight to get his own from a Christian, +the hard fighting did generally prevail at last. "We shall get them, +Nina, when they have put us to such trouble and expense as their +laws may be able to devise. Anton knows that as well as I do." + +At the door of the house Nina found the old man's grand-daughter +waiting for her. Ruth Jacobi was the girl's name, and she was the +orphaned child of a daughter of old Trendellsohn. Father and mother +were both dead; and of her father, who had been dead long, Ruth had +no memory. But she still wore some remains of the black garments which +had been given to her at her mother's funeral; and she still grieved +bitterly for her mother, having no woman with her in that gloomy house, +and no other child to comfort her. Her grandfather and her uncle were +kind to her--kind after their own gloomy fashion; but it was a sad +house for a young girl, and Ruth, though she knew nothing of any better +abode, found the days to be very long, and the months to be very +wearisome. + +"What has he been saying to you, Nina?" the girl asked, taking hold of +her friend's dress, to prevent her escape into the street. "You need +not be in a hurry for a minute. He will not come down." + +"I am not afraid of him. Ruth." + +"I am, then. But perhaps he is not cross to you." + +"Why should he be cross to me?" + +"I know why, Nina, but I will not say. Uncle Anton has been out all the +day, and was not home to dinner. It is much worse when he is away." + +"Is Anton ever cross to you, Ruth?" + +"Indeed he is--sometimes. He scolds much more than grandfather. But he +is younger, you know." + +"Yes; he is younger, certainly." + +"Not but what he is very old, too; much too old for you, Nina. When I +have a lover I will never have an old man." + +"But Anton is not old." + +"Not like grandfather, of course. But I should like a lover who would +laugh and be gay. Uncle Anton is never gay. My lover shall be only two +years older than myself. Uncle Anton must be twenty years older than +you, Nina." + +"Not more than ten--or twelve at the most." + +"He is too old to laugh and dance." + +"Not at all, dear; but he thinks of other things." + +"I should like a lover to think of the things that I think about. It is +all very well being steady when you have got babies of your own; but +that should be after ever so long. I should like to keep my lover as a +lover for two years. And all that time he should like to dance with me, +and to hear music, and to go about just where I would like to go." + +"And what then, Ruth?" + +"Then? Why, then I suppose I should marry him, and become stupid like +the rest. But I should have the two years to look back at and to +remember. Do you think, Nina, that you will ever come and live here +when you are married?" + +"I do not know that I shall ever be married, Ruth." + +"But you mean to marry uncle Anton?" + +"I cannot say. It may be so." + +"But you love him, Nina?" + +"Yes, I love him. I love him with all my heart. I love him better than +all the world besides. Ruth, you cannot tell how I love him. I would +lie down and die if he were to bid me." + +"He will never bid you do that." + +"You think that he is old, and dull, and silent, and cross. But when he +will sit still and not say a word to me for an hour together, I think +that I almost love him the best. I only want to be near him, Ruth." + +"But you do not like him to be cross." + +"Yes, I do. That is, I like him to scold me if he is angry. If he were +angry, and did not scold a little, I should think that he was really +vexed with me." + +Then you must be very much in love, Nina?" + +"I am in love--very much." + +"And does it make you happy?" + +"Happy! Happiness depends on so many things. But it makes me feel that +there can only be one real unhappiness; and unless that should come to +me, I shall care for nothing. Good-bye, love. Tell your uncle that I +was here, and say--say to him when no one else can hear, that I went +away with a sad heart because I had not seen him." + +It was late in the evening when Anton Trendellsohn came home, but Ruth +remembered the message that had been intrusted to her, and managed to +find a moment in which to deliver it. But her uncle took it amiss, and +scolded her. "You two have been talking nonsense together here half the +day, I suppose." + +"I spoke to her for five minutes, uncle; that was all." + +"Did you do your lessons with Madame Pulsky?" + +"Yes, I did, uncle--of course. You know that." + +"I know that it is a pity you should not be better looked after." + +"Bring Nina home here and she will look after me." + +"Go to bed, miss--at once, do you hear?" + +Then Ruth went off to her bed, wondering at Nina's choice, and +declaring to herself, that if ever she took in hand a lover at all, he +should be a lover very different from her uncle, Anton Trendellsohn. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The more Madame Zamenoy thought of the terrible tidings which had +reached her, the more determined did she become to prevent the +degradation of the connection with which she was threatened. She +declared to her husband and son that all Prague were already talking +of the horror, forgetting, perhaps, that any knowledge which Prague had +on the subject must have come from herself. She had, indeed, consulted +various persons on the subject in the strictest confidence. We have +already seen that she had told Lotta Luxa and her son, and she had, of +course, complained frequently on the matter to her husband. She had +unbosomed herself to one or two trusty female friends who lived near +her, and she had applied for advice and assistance to two priests. +To Father Jerome she had gone as Nina's confessor, and she had also +applied to the reverend pastor who had the charge of her own little +peccadilloes. The small amount of assistance which her clerical allies +offered to her had surprised her very much. She had, indeed, gone so +far as to declare to Lotta that she was shocked by their indifference. +Her own confessor had simply told her that the matter was in the hands +of Father Jerome, as far as it could be said to belong to the Church at +all; and had satisfied his conscience by advising his dear friend to +use all the resources which female persecution put at her command. "You +will frighten her out of it, Madame Zamenoy, if you go the right way +about it," said the priest. Madame Zamenoy was well inclined to go the +right way about it, if she only knew how. She would make Nina's life a +burden to her if she could only get hold of the girl, and would scruple +at no threats as to this world or the next. But she thought that her +priest ought to have done more for her in such a crisis than simply +giving her such ordinary counsel. Things were not as they used to be, +she knew; but there was even yet something of the prestige of power +left to the Church, and there were convents with locks and bars, and +excommunication might still be made terrible, and public opinion, in +the shape of outside persecution, might, as Madame Zamenoy thought, +have been brought to bear. Nor did she get much more comfort from +Father Jerome. His reliance was placed chiefly on operations to be +carried on with the Jew; and, failing them, on the opposition which +the Jew would experience among his own people. "They think more of it +than we do," said Father Jerome. + +"How can that be, Father Jerome?" + +"Well, they do. He would lose caste among all his friends by such a +marriage, and would, I think, destroy all his influence among them. +When he perceives this more fully he will be shy enough about it +himself. Besides, what is he to get?" + +"He will get nothing." + +"He will think better of it. And you might manage something with those +deeds. Of course he should have them sooner or later, but they might be +surrendered as the price of his giving her up. I should say it might be +managed." + +All this was not comfortable for Madame Zamenoy; and she fretted and +fumed till her husband had no peace in his house, and Ziska almost +wished that he might hear no more of the Jew and his betrothal. She +could not even commence her system of persecution, as Nina did not go +near her, and had already told Lotta Luxa that she must decline to +discuss the question of her marriage any further. So, at last, Madame +Zamenoy found herself obliged to go over in person to the house in the +Kleinseite. Such visits had for many years been very rare with her. +Since her sister's death and the days in which the Balatkas had been +prosperous, she had preferred that all intercourse between the two +families should take place at her own house; and thus, as Josef Balatka +himself rarely left his own door, she had not seen him for more than +two years. Frequent intercourse, however, had been maintained, and aunt +Sophie knew very well how things were going on in the Kleinseite. Lotta +had no compunctions as to visiting the house, and Lotta's eyes were +very sharp. And Nina had been frequently in the Windberg-gasse, having +hitherto believed it to be her duty to attend to her aunt's behests. +But Nina was no longer obedient, and Madame Zamenoy was compelled to +go herself to her brother-in-law, unless she was disposed to leave the +Balatkas absolutely to their fate. Let her do what she would, Nina must +be her niece, and therefore she would yet make a struggle. + +On this occasion Madame Zamenoy walked on foot, thinking that her +carriage and horses might be too conspicuous at the arched gate in +the little square. The carriage did not often make its way over the +bridge into the Kleinseite, being used chiefly among the suburbs of the +New Town, where it was now well known and quickly recognised; and she +did not think that this was a good opportunity for breaking into new +ground with her equipage. She summoned Lotta to attend her, and after +her one o'clock dinner took her umbrella in her hand and went forth. +She was a stout woman, probably not more than forty-five years of age, +but a little heavy, perhaps from too much indulgence with her carriage. +She walked slowly, therefore; and Lotta, who was nimble of foot and +quick in all her ways, thanked her stars that it did not suit her +mistress to walk often through the city. + +"How very long the bridge is, Lotta!" said Madame Zamenoy. + +"Not longer, ma'am, than it always has been," said Lotta, pertly. + +"Of course it is not longer than it always has been; I know that; but +still I say it is very long. Bridges are not so long in other places." + +"Not where the rivers are narrower," said Lotta. Madame Zamenoy trudged +on, finding that she could get no comfort from her servant, and at last +reached Balatka's door. Lotta, who was familiar with the place, entered +the house first, and her mistress followed her. Hanging about the broad +passage which communicated with all the rooms on the ground-floor, they +found Souchey, who told them that his master was in bed, and that Nina +was at work by his bedside. He was sent in to announce the grand +arrival, and when Madame Zamenoy entered the sitting-room Nina was +there to meet her. + +"Child," she said, "I have come to see your father." + +"Father is in bed, but you can come in," said Nina. + +"Of course I can go in," said Madame Zamenoy, "but before I go in let +me know this. Has he heard of the disgrace which you purpose to bring +upon him?" + +Nina drew herself up and made no answer; whereupon Lotta spoke. "The +old gentleman knows all about it, ma'am, as well as you do." + +"Lotta, let the child speak for herself. Nina, have you had the +audacity to tell your father--that which you told me?" + +"I have told him everything," said Nina; "will you come into his room?" +Then Madame Zamenoy lifted up the hem of her garment and stepped +proudly into the old man's chamber. + +By this time Balatka knew what was about to befall him, and was making +himself ready for the visit. He was well aware that he should be sorely +perplexed as to what he should say in the coming interview. He could +not speak lightly of such an evil as this marriage with a Jew; nor when +his sister-in-law should abuse the Jews could he dare to defend them. +But neither could he bring himself to say evil words of Nina, or to +hear evil words spoken of her without making some attempt to screen +her. It might be best, perhaps, to lie under the bed-clothes and say +nothing, if only his sister-in-law would allow him to lie there. "Am +I to come in with you, aunt Sophie?" said Nina. "Yes child," said the +aunt; "come and hear what I have to say to your father." So Nina +followed her aunt, and Lotta and Souchey were left in the sitting-room. + +"And how are you, Souchey?" said Lotta, with unusual kindness of tone. +"I suppose you are not so busy but you can stay with me a few minutes +while she is in there?" + +"There is not so much to do that I cannot spare the time," said +Souchey. + +"Nothing to do, I suppose, and less to get?" said Lotta. + +"That's about it, Lotta; but you wouldn't have had me leave them?" + +"A man has to look after himself in the world; but you were always +easy-minded, Souchey." + +"I don't know about being so easy-minded. I know what would make me +easy-minded enough." + +"You'll have to be servant to a Jew now." + +"No; I'll never be that." + +"I suppose he gives you something at odd times?" + +"Who? Trendellsohn? I never saw the colour of his money yet, and do not +wish to see it." + +"But he comes here--sometimes?" + +"Never, Lotta. I haven't seen Anton Trendellsohn within the doors these +six months." + +"But she goes to him?" + +"Yes; she goes to him." + +"That's worse--a deal worse." + +"I told her how it was when I saw her trotting off so often to the +Jews' quarter. 'You see too much of Anton Trendellsohn,' I said to her; +but it didn't do any good." + +"You should have come to us, and have told us." + +"What, Madame there? I could never have brought myself to that; she is +so upsetting, Lotta." + +"She is upsetting, no doubt; but she don't upset me. Why didn't you +tell me, Souchey?" + +"Well, I thought that if I said a word to her, perhaps that would be +enough. Who could believe that she would throw herself at once into a +Jew's arms--such a fellow as Anton Trendellsohn, too, old enough to be +her father, and she the bonniest girl in all Prague?" + +"Handsome is that handsome does, Souchey." + +"I say she's the sweetest girl in all Prague; and more's the pity she +should have taken such a fancy as this." + +"She mustn't marry him, of course, Souchey." + +"Not if it can be helped, Lotta." + +"It must be helped. You and I must help it, if no one else can do so." + +"That's easy said, Lotta." + +"We can do it, if we are minded--that is, if you are minded. Only think +what a thing it would be for her to be the wife of a Jew! Think of her +soul, Souchey!" + +Souchey shuddered. He did not like being told of people's souls, +feeling probably that the misfortunes of this world were quite +heavy enough for a poor wight like himself, without any addition in +anticipation of futurity. "Think of her soul, Souchey," repeated Lotta, +who was at all points a good churchwoman. + +"It's bad enough any way," said Souchey. + +"And there's our Ziska would take her to-morrow in spite of the Jew." + +"Would he now?" + +"That he would, without anything but what she stands up in. And he'd +behave very handsome to anyone that would help him." + +"He'd be the first of his name that ever did, then. I have known the +time when old Balatka there, poor as he is now, would give a florin +when Karil Zamenoy begrudged six kreutzers." + +"And what has come of such giving? Josef Balatka is poor, and Karil +Zamenoy bids fair to be as rich as any merchant in Prague. But no +matter about that. Will you give a helping hand? There is nothing I +wouldn't do for you, Souchey, if we could manage this between us." + +"Would you now?" And Souchey drew near, as though some closer bargain +might be practicable between them. + +"I would indeed; but, Souchey, talking won't do it." + +"What will do it?" + +Lotta paused a moment, looking round the room carefully, till suddenly +her eyes fell on a certain article which lay on Nina's work-table. +"What am I to do?" said Souchey, anxious to be at work with the +prospect of so great a reward. + +"Never mind," said Lotta, whose tone of voice was suddenly changed. +"Never mind it now at least. And, Souchey, I think you'd better +go to your work. We've been gossiping here ever so long." + +"Perhaps five minutes; and what does it signify?" + +"She'd think it so odd to find us here together in the parlour." + +"Not odd at all." + +"Just as though we'd been listening to what they'd been saying. Go now, +Souchey--there's a good fellow; and I'll come again the day after to- +morrow and tell you. Go, I say. There are things that I must think of +by myself." And in this way she got Souchey to leave the room. + +"Josef," said Madame Zamenoy, as she took her place standing by +Balatka's bedside--"Josef, this is very terrible." Nina also was +standing close by her father's head, with her hand upon her father's +pillow. Balatka groaned, but made no immediate answer. + +"It is terrible, horrible, abominable, and damnable," said Madame +Zamenoy, bringing out one epithet after the other with renewed energy. +Balatka groaned again. What could he say in reply to such an address? + +"Aunt Sophie," said Nina, "do not speak to father like that. He is +ill." + +"Child," said Madame Zamenoy, "I shall speak as I please. I shall speak +as my duty bids me speak. Josef, this that I hear is very terrible. It +is hardly to be believed that any Christian girl should think of +marrying--a Jew." + +"What can I do?" said the father. "How can I prevent her?" + +"How can you prevent her, Josef? Is she not your daughter? Does she +mean to say, standing there, that she will not obey her father? Tell +me. Nina, will you or will you not obey your father?" + +"That is his affair, aunt Sophie; not yours." + +"His affair! It is his affair, and my affair, and all our affairs. +Impudent girl!--brazen-faced, impudent, bad girl! Do you not know that +you would bring disgrace upon us all?" + +"You are thinking about yourself, aunt Sophie; and I must think for +myself." + +"You do not regard your father, then?" + +"Yes, I do regard my father. He knows that I regard him. Father, is it +true that I do not regard you?" + +"She is a good daughter," said the father. + +"A good daughter, and talk of marrying a Jew!" said Madame Zamenoy. +"Has she your permission for such a marriage? Tell me that at once, +Josef, that I may know. Has she your sanction for--for--for this +accursed abomination?" Then there was silence in the room for a few +moments. "You can at any rate answer a plain question, Josef," +continued Madame Zamenoy. "Has Nina your leave to betroth herself to +the Jew, Trendellsohn?" + +"No, I have not got his leave," said Nina. + +"I am speaking to your father, miss," said the enraged aunt. + +"Yes; you are speaking very roughly to father, and he is ill. Therefore +I answer for him." + +"And has he not forbidden you to think of marrying this Jew?" + +"No, he has not," said Nina. + +"Josef, answer for yourself like a man," said Madame Zamenoy. "Have you +not forbidden this marriage? Do you not forbid it now? Let me at any +rate hear you say that you have forbidden it." But Balatka found +silence to be his easiest course, and answered not at all. "What am I +to think of this?" continued Madame Zamenoy. "It cannot be that you +wish your child to be the wife of a Jew!" + +"You are to think, aunt Sophie, that father is ill, and that he cannot +stand against your violence." + +"Violence, you wicked girl! It is you that are violent." + +"Will you come out into the parlour, aunt?" + +"No, I will not come out into the parlour. I will not stir from +this spot till I have told your father all that I think about it. +Ill, indeed! What matters illness when it is a question of eternal +damnation!" Madame Zamenoy put so much stress upon the latter word +that her brother-in-law almost jumped from under the bed-clothes. Nina +raised herself, as she was standing, to her full height, and a smile of +derision came upon her face. "Oh, yes! I daresay you do not mind it," +said Madame Zamenoy. "I daresay you can laugh now at all the pains of +hell. Castaways such as you are always blind to their own danger; but +your father, I hope, has not fallen so far as to care nothing for his +religion, though he seems to have forgotten what is due to his family." + +"I have forgotten nothing," said old Balatka. + +"Why then do you not forbid her to do this thing?" demanded Madame +Zamenoy. But the old man had recognised too well the comparative +security of silence to be drawn into argument, and therefore merely hid +himself more completely among the clothes. "Am I to get no answer from +you, Josef?" said Madame Zamenoy. No answer came, and therefore she was +driven to turn again upon Nina. + +"Why are you doing this thing, you poor deluded creature? Is it the +man's money that tempts you?" + +"It is not the man's money. If money could tempt me, I could have it +elsewhere, as you know." + +"It cannot be love for such a man as that. Do you not know that he and +his father between them have robbed your father of everything?" + +"I know nothing of the kind." + +"They have; and he is now making a fool of you in order that he may get +whatever remains." + +"Nothing remains. He will get nothing." + +"Nor will you. I do not believe that after all he will ever marry you. +He will not be such a fool." + +"Perhaps not, aunt; and in that case you will have your wish." + +"But no one can ever speak to you again after such a condition. Do you +think that I or your uncle could have you at our house when all the +world shall know that you have been jilted by a Jew?" + +"I will not trouble you by going to your house." + +"And is that all the satisfaction I am to have?" + +"What do you want me to say?" + +I want you to say that you will give this man up, and return to your +duty as a Christian." + +"I will never give him up--never. I would sooner die." + +"Very well. Then I shall know how to act. You will not be a bit nearer +marrying him; I can promise you that. You are mistaken if you think +that in such a matter as this a girl like you can do just as she +pleases." Then she turned again upon the poor man in bed. "Josef +Balatka, I am ashamed of you. I am indeed--I am ashamed of you." + +"Aunt Sophie," said Nina, "now that you are here, you can say what you +please to me; but you might as well spare father." + +"I will not spare him. I am ashamed of him--thoroughly ashamed of him. +What can I think of him when he will lie there and not say a word to +save his daughter from the machinations of a filthy Jew?" + +"Anton Trendellsohn is not a filthy Jew." + +"He is a robber. He has cheated your father out of everything." + +"He is no robber. He has cheated no one. I know who has cheated father, +if you come to that." + +"Whom do you mean, hussey?" + +"I shall not answer you; but you need not tell me any more about the +Jews cheating us. Christians can cheat as well as Jews, and can rob +from their own flesh and blood too. I do not care for your threats, +aunt Sophie, nor for your frowns. I did care for them, but you have +said that which makes it impossible that I should regard them any +further." + +"And this is what I get for all my trouble--for all your uncle's +generosity!" Again Nina smiled. "But I suppose the Jew gives more than +we have given, and therefore is preferred. You poor creature--poor +wretched creature!" + +During all this time Balatka remained silent; and at last, after very +much more scolding, in which Madame Zamenoy urged again and again the +terrible threat of eternal punishment, she prepared herself for going. +"Lotta Luxa," she said, "--where is Lotta Luxa?" She opened the door, +and found Lotta Luxa seated demurely by the window. "Lotta," she said, +"I shall go now, and shall never come back to this unfortunate house. +You hear what I say; I shall never return here. As she makes her bed, +so must she lie on it. It is her own doing, and no one can save her. +For my part, I think that the Jew has bewitched her." + +"Like enough," said Lotta. + +"When once we stray from the Holy Church, there is no knowing what +terrible evils may come upon us," said Madame Zamenoy. + +"No indeed, ma'am," said Lotta Luxa. + +"But I have done all in my power." + +"That you have, ma'am." + +"I feel quite sure, Lotta, that the Jew will never marry her. Why +should a man like that, who loves money better than his soul, marry a +girl who has not a kreutzer to bless herself?" + +"Why indeed, ma'am! It's my mind that he don't think of marrying her." + +"And, Jew as he is, he cares for his religion. He will not bring +trouble upon everybody belonging to him by taking a Christian for his +wife." + +"That he will not, ma'am, you may be sure," said Lotta. + +"And where will she be then? Only fancy, Lotta--to have been jilted by +a Jew!" Then Madame Zamenoy, without addressing herself directly to +Nina, walked out of the room; but as she did so she paused in the +doorway, and again spoke to Lotta. "To be jilted by a Jew, Lotta! Think +of that." + +"I should drown myself," said Lotta Luxa. And then they both were gone. + +The idea that the Jew might jilt her disturbed Nina more than all her +aunt's anger, or than any threats as to the penalties she might have +to encounter in the next world. She felt a certain delight, an inward +satisfaction, in giving up everything for her Jew lover--a satisfaction +which was the more intense, the more absolute was the rejection and the +more crushing the scorn which she encountered on his behalf from her +own people. But to encounter this rejection and scorn, and then to be +thrown over by the Jew, was more than she could endure. And would it, +could it, be so? She sat down to think of it; and as she thought of it +terrible fears came upon her. Old Trendellsohn had told her that such a +marriage on his son's part would bring him into great trouble; and old +Trendellsohn was not harsh with her as her aunt was harsh. The old +man, in his own communications with her, had always been kind and +forbearing. And then Anton himself was severe to her. Though he would +now and again say some dear, well-to-be-remembered happy word, as when +he told her that she was his sun, and that he looked to her for warmth +and light, such soft speakings were few with him and far between. +And then he never mentioned any time as the probable date of their +marriage. If only a time could be fixed, let it be ever so distant, +Nina thought that she could still endure all the cutting taunts of her +enemies. But what would she do if Anton were to announce to her some +day that he found himself, as a Jew, unable to marry with her as a +Christian? In such a case she thought that she must drown herself, as +Lotta had suggested to her. + +As she sat thinking of this, her eyes suddenly fell upon the one key +which she herself possessed, and which, with a woman's acuteness of +memory, she perceived to have been moved from the spot on which she had +left it. It was the key of the little desk which stood in the corner of +the parlour, and in which, on the top of all the papers, was deposited +the necklace with which she intended to relieve the immediate +necessities of their household. She at once remembered that Lotta +had been left for a long time in the room, and with anxious, quick +suspicion she went to the desk. But her suspicions had wronged Lotta. +There, lying on a bundle of letters, was the necklace, in the exact +position in which she had left it. She kissed the trinket, which had +come to her from her mother, replaced it carefully, and put the key +into her pocket. + +What should she do next? How should she conduct herself in her present +circumstances? Her heart prompted her to go off at once to Anton +Trendellsohn and tell him everything; but she greatly feared that Anton +would not be glad to see her. She knew that it was not well that a girl +should run after her lover; but yet how was she to live without seeing +him? What other comfort had she? and from whom else could she look for +guidance? She declared to herself at last that she, in her position, +would not be stayed by ordinary feelings of maiden reserve. She would +tell him everything, even to the threat on which her aunt had so much +depended, and would then ask him for his counsel. She would describe +to him, if words from her could describe them, all her difficulties, +and would promise to be guided by him absolutely in everything. +"Everything," she would say to him, "I have given up for you. I am +yours entirely, body and soul. Do with me as you will." If he should +then tell her that he would not have her, that he did not want the +sacrifice, she would go away from him--and drown herself. But she would +not go to him to-day--no, not to-day; not perhaps to-morrow. It was +but a day or two as yet since she had been over at the Trendellsohns' +house, and though on that occasion she had not seen Anton, Anton of +course would know that she had been there. She did not wish him to +think that she was hunting him. She would wait yet two or three days-- +till the next Sunday morning perhaps--and then she would go again to +the Jews' quarter. On the Christian Sabbath Anton was always at home, +as on that day business is suspended in Prague both for Christian and +Jew. + +Then she went back to her father. He was still lying with his face +turned to the wall, and Nina, thinking that he slept, took up her work +and sat by his side. But he was awake, and watching. "Is she gone?" he +said, before her needle had been plied a dozen times. + +"Aunt Sophie? Yes, father, she has gone." + +"I hope she will not come again." + +"She says that she will never come again." + +"What is the use of her coming here? We are lost and are perishing. We +are utterly gone. She will not help us, and why should she disturb us +with her curses?" + +"Father, there may be better days for us yet." + +"How can there be better days when you are bringing down the Jew upon +us? Better days for yourself, perhaps, if mere eating and drinking will +serve you." + +"Oh, father!" + +"Have you not ruined everything with your Jew lover? Did you not hear +how I was treated? What could I say to your aunt when she stood there +and reviled us?" + +"Father, I was so grateful to you for saying nothing!" + +"But I knew that she was right. A Christian should not marry a Jew. She +said it was abominable; and so it is." + +"Father, father, do not speak like that! I thought that you had +forgiven me. You said to aunt Sophie that I was a good daughter. Will +you not say the same to me--to me myself?" + +"It is not good to love a Jew." + +"I do love him, father. How can I help it now? I cannot change my +heart." + +"I suppose I shall be dead soon," said old Balatka, "and then it will +not matter. You will become one of them, and I shall be forgotten." + +"Father, have I ever forgotten you?" said Nina, throwing herself upon +him on his bed. "Have I not always loved you? Have I not been good to +you? Oh, father, we have been true to each other through it all. Do not +speak to me like that at last." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Anton Trendellsohn had learned from his father that Nina had spoken to +her aunt about the title-deeds of the houses in the Kleinseite, and +that thus, in a roundabout way, a demand had been made for them. "Of +course, they will not give them up," he had said to his father. "Why +should they, unless the law makes them? They have no idea of honour or +honesty to one of us." The elder Jew had then expressed his opinion +that Josef Balatka should be required to make the demand as a matter of +business, to enforce a legal right; but to this Anton had replied that +the old man in the Kleinseite was not in a condition to act efficiently +in the matter himself. It was to him that the money had been advanced, +but to the Zamenoys that it had in truth been paid; and Anton declared +his purpose of going to Karil Zamenoy and himself making his demand. +And then there had been a discussion, almost amounting to a quarrel, +between the two Trendellsohns as to Nina Balatka. Poor Nina need not +have added another to her many causes of suffering by doubting her +lover's truth. Anton Trendellsohn, though not given to speak of his +love with that demonstrative vehemence to which Nina had trusted in her +attempts to make her friends understand that she could not be talked +out of her engagement, was nevertheless sufficiently firm in his +purpose. He was a man very constant in all his purposes, whom none +who knew him would have supposed likely to jeopardise his worldly +interests for the love of a Christian girl, but who was very little +apt to abandon aught to which he had set his hand because the voices +of those around him might be against him. He had thought much of his +position as a Jew before he had spoken of love to the penniless +Christian maiden who frequented his father's house, pleading for her +father in his poverty; but the words when spoken meant much, and Nina +need not have feared that he would forget them. He was a man not much +given to dalliance, not requiring from day to day the soft sweetness of +a woman's presence to keep his love warm; but his love could maintain +its own heat, without any softness or dalliance. Had it not been so, +such a girl as Nina would hardly have surrendered to him her whole +heart as she had done. + +"You will fall into trouble about the maiden," the elder Trendellsohn +had said. + +"True, father; there will be trouble enough. In what that we do is +there not trouble?" + +"A man in the business of his life must encounter labour and grief and +disappointment. He should take to him a wife to give him ease in these +things, not one who will be an increase to his sorrows." + +"That which is done is done." + +"My son, this thing is not done." + +"She has my plighted word, father. Is not that enough?" + +"Nina is a good girl. I will say for her that she is very good. I have +wished that you might have brought to my house as your wife the child +of my old friend Baltazar Loth; but if that may not be, I would have +taken Nina willingly by the hand--had she been one of us." + +"It may be that God will open her eyes." + +"Anton, I would not have her eyes opened by anything so weak as her +love for a man. But I have said that she was good. She will hear +reason; and when she shall know that her marriage among us would bring +trouble on us, she will restrain her wishes. Speak to her, Anton, and +see if it be not so." + +"Not for all the wealth which all our people own in Bohemia! Father, to +do so would be to demand, not to ask. If she love me, could she refuse +such a request were I to ask it?" + +"I will speak a word to Nina, my son, and the request shall come from +her." + +"And if it does, I will never yield to it. For her sake I would not +yield, for I know she loves me. Neither for my own would I yield; for +as truly as I worship God, I love her better than all the world beside. +She is to me my cup of water when I am hot and athirst, my morsel of +bread when I am faint with hunger. Her voice is the only music which I +love. The touch of her hand is so fresh that it cools me when I am in +fever. The kiss of her lips is so sweet and balmy that it cures when +I shake with an ague fit. To think of her when I am out among men +fighting for my own, is such a joy, that now, methinks now, that I have +had it belonging to me, I could no longer fight were I to lose it. No. +father; she shall not be taken from me. I love her, and I will keep +her." + +Oh that Nina could have heard him! How would all her sorrows have fled +from her, and left her happy in her poverty! But Anton Trendellsohn, +though he could speak after this manner to his father, could hardly +bring himself to talk of his feelings to the woman who would have given +her eyes, could she for his sake have spared them, to hear him. Now and +again, indeed, he would say a word, and then would frown and become +gloomy, as though angry with himself for such outward womanly +expression of what he felt. As it was, the words fell upon ears which +they delighted not. "Then, my son, you will live to rue the day in +which you first saw her," said the elder Jew. "She will be a bone of +contention in your way that will separate you from all your friends. +You will become neither Jew nor Christian, and will be odious alike to +both. And she will be the same." + +"Then, father, we will bear our sorrows together." + +"Yes; and what happens when sorrows come from such causes? The man +learns to hate the woman who has caused them, and ill-uses her, and +feels himself to be a Cain upon the earth, condemned by all, but by +none so much as by himself. Do you think that you have strength to bear +the contempt of all those around you?" + +Anton waited a moment or two before he answered, and then spoke very +slowly. "If it be necessary to bear so much, I will at least make the +effort. It may be that I shall find the strength." + +"Nothing then that your father says to you avails aught?" + +"Nothing, father, on that matter. You should have spoken sooner." + +"Then you must go your own way. As for me, I must look for another son +to bear the burden of my years." And so they parted. + +Anton Trendellsohn understood well the meaning of the old man's threat. +He was quite alive to the fact that his father had expressed his +intention to give his wealth and his standing in trade and the business +of his house to some younger Jew, who would be more true than his own +son to the traditional customs of their tribes. There was Ruth Jacobi, +his granddaughter--the only child of the house--who had already reached +an age at which she might be betrothed; and there was Samuel Loth, +the son of Baltazar Loth, old Trendellsohn's oldest friend. Anton +Trendellsohn did not doubt who might be the adopted child to be taken +to fill his place. It has been already explained that there was no +partnership actually existing between the two Trendellsohns. By degrees +the son had slipt into the father's place, and the business by which +the house had grown rich had for the last five or six years been +managed chiefly by him. But the actual results of the son's industry +and the son's thrift were still in the possession of the father. The +old man might no doubt go far towards ruining his son if he were so +minded. + +Dreams of a high ambition had, from very early years, flitted across +the mind of the younger Trendellsohn till they had nearly formed +themselves into a settled purpose. He had heard of Jews in Vienna, in +Paris, and in London, who were as true to their religion as any Jew of +Prague, but who did not live immured in a Jews' quarter, like lepers +separate and alone in some loathed corner of a city otherwise clean. +These men went abroad into the world as men, using the wealth with +which their industry had been blessed, openly as the Christians used +it. And they lived among Christians as one man should live with his +fellow-men--on equal terms, giving and taking, honouring and honoured. +As yet it was not so with the Jews of Prague, who were still bound to +their old narrow streets, to their dark houses, to their mean modes +of living, and who, worst of all, were still subject to the isolated +ignominy of Judaism. In Prague a Jew was still a Pariah. Anton's father +was rich--very rich. Anton hardly knew what was the extent of his +father's wealth, but he did know that it was great. In his father's +time, however, no change could be made. He did not scruple to speak to +the old man of these things; but he spoke of them rather as dreams, or +as distant hopes, than as being the basis of any purpose of his own. +His father would merely say that the old house, looking out upon the +ancient synagogue, must last him his time, and that the changes of +which Anton spoke must be postponed--not till he died--but till such +time as he should feel it right to give up the things of this world. +Anton Trendellsohn, who knew his father well, had resolved that he +would wait patiently for everything till his father should have gone to +his last home, knowing that nothing but death would close the old man's +interest in the work of his life. But he had been content to wait--to +wait, to think, to dream, and only in part to hope. He still communed +with himself daily as to that House of Trendellsohn which might, +perhaps, be heard of in cities greater than Prague, and which might +rival in the grandeur of its wealth those mighty commercial names which +had drowned the old shame of the Jew in the new glory of their great +doings. To be a Jew in London, they had told him, was almost better +than to be a Christian, provided that he was rich, and knew the ways +of trade--was better for such purposes as were his purposes. Anton +Trendellsohn believed that he would be rich, and was sure that he knew +the ways of trade; and therefore he nursed his ambition, and meditated +what his action should be when the days of his freedom should come to +him. + +Then Nina Balatka had come across his path. To be a Jew, always a Jew, +in all things a Jew, had been ever a part of his great dream. It was as +impossible to him as it would be to his father to forswear the religion +of his people. To go forth and be great in commerce by deserting his +creed would have been nothing to him. His ambition did not desire +wealth so much as the possession of wealth in Jewish hands, without +those restrictions upon its enjoyment to which Jews under his own eye +had ever been subjected. It would have delighted him to think that, by +means of his work, there should no longer be a Jews' quarter in Prague, +but that all Prague should be ennobled and civilised and made beautiful +by the wealth of Jews. Wealth must be his means, and therefore he was +greedy; but wealth was not his last or only aim, and therefore his +greed did not utterly destroy his heart. Then Nina Balatka had come +across his path, and he was compelled to shape his dreams anew. How +could a Jew among Jews hold up his head as such who had taken to his +bosom a Christian wife? + +But again he shaped his dreams aright--so far aright that he could +still build the castles of his imagination to his own liking. Nina +should be his wife. It might be that she would follow the creed of her +husband, and then all would be well. In those far cities to which he +would go, it would hardly in such case be known that she had been born +a Christian; or else he would show the world around him, both Jews and +Christians, how well a Christian and a Jew might live together. To +crush the prejudice which had dealt so hardly with his people--to make +a Jew equal in all things to a Christian--this was his desire; and how +could this better be fulfilled than by his union with a Christian? One +thing at least was fixed with him--one thing was fixed, even though it +should mar his dreams. He had taken the Christian girl to be part of +himself, and nothing should separate them. His father had spoken often +to him of the danger which he would incur by marrying a Christian, but +had never before uttered any word approaching to a personal threat. +Anton had felt himself to be so completely the mainspring of the +business in which they were both engaged--was so perfectly aware that +he was so regarded by all the commercial men of Prague--that he had +hardly regarded the absence of any positive possession in his father's +wealth as detrimental to him. He had been willing that it should be his +father's while his father lived, knowing that any division would be +detrimental to them both. He had never even asked his father for a +partnership, taking everything for granted. Even now he could not quite +believe that his father was in earnest. It could hardly be possible +that the work of his own hands should be taken from him because he had +chosen a bride for himself! But this he felt, that should his father +persevere in the intention which he had expressed, he would be upheld +in it by every Jew of Prague. "Dark, ignorant, and foolish," Anton said +to himself, speaking of those among whom he lived; "it is their pride +to live in disgrace, while all the honours of the world are open to +them if they chose to take them!" + +He did not for a moment think of altering his course of action in +consequence of what his father had said to him. Indeed, as regarded the +business of the house, it would stand still altogether were he to alter +it. No successor could take up the work when he should leave it. No +other hand could continue the webs which were of his weaving. So he +went forth, as the errands of the day called him, soon after his +father's last words were spoken, and went through his work as though +his own interest in it were in no danger. + +On that evening nothing was said on the subject between him and his +father, and on the next morning he started immediately after breakfast +for the Ross Markt, in order that he might see Karil Zamenoy, as he had +said that he would do. The papers, should he get them, would belong to +his father, and would at once be put into his father's hands. But the +feeling that it might not be for his own personal advantage to place +them there did not deter him. His father was an old man, and old men +were given to threaten. He at least would go on with his duty. + +It was about eleven o'clock in the day when he entered the open door of +the office in the Ross Markt, and found Ziska and a young clerk sitting +opposite to each other at their desks. Anton took off his hat and bowed +to Ziska, whom he knew slightly, and asked the young man if his father +were within. + +"My father is here," said Ziska, "but I do not know whether he can see +you." + +"You will ask him, perhaps," said Trendellsohn. + +"Well, he is engaged. There is a lady with him." + +"Perhaps he will make an appointment with me, and I will call again. If +he will name an hour, I will come at his own time." + +"Cannot you say to me, Herr Trendellsohn, that which you wish to say to +him?" + +"Not very well." + +"You know that I am in partnership with my father." + +"He and you are happy to be so placed together. But if your father can +spare me five minutes, I will take it from him as a favour." + +Then, with apparent reluctance, Ziska came down from his seat and went +into the inner room. There he remained some time, while Trendellsohn +was standing, hat in hand, in the outer office. If the changes which +he hoped to effect among his brethren could be made, a Jew in Prague +should, before long, be asked to sit down as readily as a Christian. +But he had not been asked to sit, and he therefore stood holding his +hat in his hand during the ten minutes that Ziska was away. At last +young Zamenoy returned, and, opening the door, signified to the Jew +that his father would see him at once if he would enter. Nothing more +had been said about the lady, and there, when Trendellsohn went into +the room, he found the lady, who was no other than Madame Zamenoy +herself. A little family council had been held, and it had been settled +among them that the Jew should be seen and heard. + +"So, sir, you are Anton Trendellsohn," began Madame Zamenoy, as soon as +Ziska was gone--for Ziska had been told to go--and the door was shut. + +"Yes, madame; I am Anton Trendellsohn. I had not expected the honour of +seeing you, but I wish to say a few words on business to your husband." + +"There he is; you can speak to him." + +"Anything that I can do, I shall be very happy," said Karil Zamenoy, +who had risen from his chair to prevent the necessity of having to ask +the Jew to sit down. + +"Herr Zamenoy," began the Jew, "you are, I think, aware that my father +has purchased from your friend and brother-in-law, Josef Balatka, +certain houses in the Kleinseite, in one of which the old man still +lives." + +"Upon my word, I know nothing about it," said Zamenoy--"nothing, that +is to say, in the way of business;" and the man of business laughed. +"Mind I do not at all deny that you did so--you or your father, or the +two together. Your people are getting into their hands lots of houses +all over the town; but how they do it nobody knows. They are not bought +in fair open market." + +"This purchase was made by contract, and the price was paid in full +before the houses were put into our hands." + +"They are not in your hands now, as far as I know." + +"Not the one, certainly, in which Balatka lives. Motives of +friendship--" + +"Friendship!" said Madame Zamenoy, with a sneer. + +"And now motives of love," continued Anton, "have induced us to leave +the use of that house with Josef Balatka." + +"Love!" said Madame Zamenoy, springing from her chair; love indeed! Do +not talk to me of love for a Jew." + +"My dear, my dear!" said her husband, expostulating. + +"How dares he come here to talk of his love? It is filthy--it is worse +than filthy--it is profane." + +"I came here, madame," continued Anton, "not to talk of my love, but of +certain documents or title-deeds respecting those houses, which should +be at present in my father's custody. I am told that your husband has +them in his safe custody." + +"My husband has them not," said Madame Zamenoy. + +"Stop, my dear--stop," said the husband. + +"Not that he would be bound to give them up to you if he had got them, +or that he would do so; but he has them not." + +"In whose hands are they then?" + +"That is for you to find out, not for us to tell you." + +"Why should not all the world be told, so that the proper owner may +have his own?" + +"It is not always so easy to find out who is the proper owner," said +Zamenoy the elder. + +"You have seen this contract before, I think, said Trendellsohn, +bringing forth a written paper. + +"I will not look at it now at any rate. I have nothing to do with it, +and I will have nothing to do with it. You have heard Madame Zamenoy +declare that the deed which you seek is not here. I cannot say whether +it is here or no. I do not say--as you will be pleased to remember. If +it were here it would be in safe keeping for my brother-in-law, and +only to him could it be given." + +"But will you not say whether it is in your hands? You know well that +Josef Balatka is ill, and cannot attend to such matters." + +"And who has made him ill, and what has made him ill?" said Madame +Zamenoy. "Ill! of course he is ill. Is it not enough to make any man +ill to be told that his daughter is to marry a Jew?" + +"I have not come hither to speak of that," said Trendellsohn. + +"But I speak of it; and I tell you this, Anton Trendellsohn--you shall +never marry that girl." + +"Be it so; but let me at any rate have that which is my own." + +"Will you give her up if it is given to you?" + +"It is here then?" + +"No; it is not here. But will you abandon this mad thought if I tell +you where it is?" + +"No; certainly not." + +"What a fool the man is!" said Madame Zamenoy. "He comes to us for what +he calls his property because he wants to marry the girl, and she is +deceiving him all the while. Go to Nina Balatka, Trendellsohn, and she +will tell you who has the document. She will tell you where it is, if +it suits her to do so." + +"She has told me, and she knows that it is here." + +"She knows nothing of the kind, and she has lied. She has lied in order +that she may rob you. Jew as you are, she will be too many for you. She +will rob you, with all her seeming simplicity." + +"I trust her as I do my own soul," said Trendellsohn. + +"Very well; I tell you that she, and she only, knows where these +papers are. For aught I know, she has them herself. I believe that she +has them. Ziska," said Madame Zamenoy, calling aloud--"Ziska, come +hither;" and Ziska entered the room. "Ziska, who has the title-deeds +of your uncle's houses in the Kleinseite?" Ziska hesitated a moment +without answering. "You know, if anybody does," said his mother; "tell +this man, since he is so anxious, who has got them." + +"I do not know why I should tell him my cousin's secrets." + +"Tell him, I say. It is well that he should know." + +"Nina has them, as I believe," said Ziska, still hesitating. + +"Nina has them!" said Trendellsohn. + +"Yes; Nina Balatka," said Madame Zamenoy. "We tell you, to the best of +our knowledge at least. At any rate, they are not here." + +"It is impossible that Nina should have them," said Trendellsohn. "How +should she have got them?" + +"That is nothing to us," said Madame Zamenoy. "The whole thing is +nothing to us. You have heard all that we can tell you, and you had +better go." + +"You have heard more than I would have told you myself," said Ziska, +"had I been left to my opinion." + +Trendellsohn stood pausing for a moment, and then he turned to the +elder Zamenoy. "What do you say, sir? Is it true that these papers are +at the house in the Kleinseite?" + +"I say nothing," said Karil Zamenoy. "It seems to me that too much has +been said already." + +"A great deal too much," said the lady. "I do not know why I should +have allowed myself to be surprised into giving you any information at +all. You wish to do us the heaviest injury that one man can do another, +and I do not know why we should speak to you at all. Now you had better +go." + +"Yes; you had better go," said Ziska, holding the door open, and +looking as though he were inclined to threaten. Trendellsohn paused +for a moment on the threshold, fixing his eyes full upon those of his +rival; but Ziska neither spoke nor made any further gesture, and then +the Jew left the house. + +"I would have told him nothing," said the elder Zamenoy when they were +left alone. + +"My dear, you don't understand; indeed you do not," said his wife. "No +stone should be left unturned to prevent such a horrid marriage as +this. There is nothing I would not say--nothing I would not do." + +"But I do not see that you are doing anything." + +"Leave this little thing to me, my dear--to me and Ziska. It is +impossible that you should do everything yourself. In such a matter as +this, believe me that a woman is best." + +"But I hate anything that is really dishonest." + +"There shall be no dishonesty--none in the world. You don't suppose +that I want to get the dirty old tumble-down houses. God forbid! But +you would not give up everything to a Jew! Oh, I hate them! I do hate +them! Anything is fair against a Jew." If such was Madame Zamenoy's +ordinary doctrine, it may well be understood that she would scruple at +using no weapon against a Jew who was meditating so great an injury +against her as this marriage with her niece. After this little +discussion old Zamenoy said no more, and Madame Zamenoy went home to +the Windberg-gasse. + +Trendellsohn, as he walked homewards, was lost in amazement. He wholly +disbelieved the statement that the document he desired was in Nina's +hands, but he thought it possible that it might be in the house in +the Kleinseite. It was, after all, on the cards that old Balatka was +deceiving him. The Jew was by nature suspicious, though he was also +generous. He could be noble in his confidence, and at the same time +could become at a moment distrustful. He could give without grudging, +and yet grudge the benefits which came of his giving. Neither he nor +his father had ever positively known in whose custody were the title- +deeds which he was so anxious to get into his own hands. Balatka had +said that they must be with the Zamenoys, but even Balatka had never +spoken as of absolute knowledge. Nina, indeed, had declared positively +that they were in the Ross Markt, saying that Ziska had so stated in +direct terms; but there might be a mistake in this. At any rate he +would interrogate Nina, and if there were need, would not spare the old +man any questions that could lead to the truth. Trendellsohn, as he +thought of the possibility of such treachery on Balatka's part, felt +that, without compunction, he could be very cruel, even to an old man, +under such circumstances as those. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Madame Zamenoy and her son no doubt understood each other's purposes, +and there was another person in the house who understood them--Lotta +Luxa, namely; but Karil Zamenoy had been kept somewhat in the dark. +Touching that piece of parchment as to which so much anxiety had been +expressed, he only knew that he had, at his wife's instigation, given +it into her hand in order that she might use it in some way for putting +an end to the foul betrothal between Nina and the Jew. The elder +Zamenoy no doubt understood that Anton Trendellsohn was to be bought +off by the document; and he was not unwilling to buy him off so +cheaply, knowing as he did that the houses were in truth the Jew's +property; but Madame Zamenoy's scheme was deeper than this. She did +not believe that the Jew was to be bought off at so cheap a price; but +she did believe that it might be possible to create such a feeling in +his mind as would make him abandon Nina out of the workings of his own +heart. Ziska and his mother were equally anxious to save Nina from the +Jew, but not exactly with the same motives. He had received a promise, +both from his father and mother, before anything was known of the Jew's +love, that Nina should be received as a daughter-in-law, if she would +accept his suit; and this promise was still in force. That the girl +whom he loved should love a Jew distressed and disgusted Ziska; but it +did not deter him from his old purpose. It was shocking, very shocking, +that Nina should so disgrace herself; but she was not on that account +less pretty or less charming in her cousin's eyes. Madame Zamenoy, +could she have had her own will, would have rescued Nina from the Jew-- +firstly, because Nina was known all over Prague to be her niece--and, +secondly, for the good of Christianity generally; but the girl herself, +when rescued, she would willingly have left to starve in the poverty of +the old house in the Kleinseite, as a punishment for her sin in having +listened to a Jew. + +"I would have nothing more to say to her," said the mother to her son. + +"Nor I either," said Lotta, who was present. "She has demeaned herself +far too much to be a fit wife for Ziska." + +"Hold your tongue, Lotta; what business have you to speak about such a +matter?" said the young man. + +"All the same, Ziska, if I were you, I would give her up," said the +mother. + +"If you were me, mother, you would not give her up. If every man is to +give up the girl he likes because somebody else interferes with him, +how is anybody to get married at all? It's the way with them all." + +"But a Jew, Ziska!" + +"So much the more reason for taking her away from him." Then Ziska went +forth on a certain errand, the expediency of which he had discussed +with his mother. + +"I never thought he'd be so firm about it, ma'am," said Lotta to her +mistress. + +"If we could get Trendellsohn to turn her off, he would not think much +of her afterwards," said the mother. "He wouldn't care to take the +Jew's leavings." + +"But he seems to be so obstinate," said Lotta. "Indeed I did not think +there was so much obstinacy in him." + +"Of course he is obstinate while he thinks the other man is to have +her," said the mistress; "but all that will be changed when the girl is +alone in the world." + +It was a Saturday morning, and Ziska had gone out with a certain fixed +object. Much had been said between him and his mother since Anton +Trendellsohn's visit to the office, and it had been decided that he +should now go and see the Jew in his own home. He should see him and +speak him fair, and make him understand if possible that the whole +question of the property should be settled as he wished it--if he would +only give up his insane purpose of marrying a Christian girl. Ziska +would endeavour also to fill the Jew's mind with suspicion against +Nina. The former scheme was Ziska's own; the second was that in which +Ziska's mother put her chief trust. "If once he can be made to think +that the girl is deceiving him, he will quarrel with her utterly," +Madame Zamenoy had said. + +On Saturday there is but little business done in Prague, because +Saturday is the Sabbath of the Jews. The shops are of course open in +the main streets of the town, but banks and counting-houses are closed, +because the Jews will not do business on that day--so great is the +preponderance of the wealth of Prague in the hands of that people! It +suited Ziska, therefore, to make his visit on a Saturday, both because +he had but little himself to do on that day, and because he would be +almost sure to find Trendellsohn at home. As he made his way across the +bottom of the Kalowrat-strasse and through the centre of the city to +the narrow ways of the Jews' quarter, his heart somewhat misgave him as +to the result of his visit. He knew very well that a Christian was safe +among the Jews from any personal ill-usage; but he knew also that such +a one as he would be known personally to many of them as a Christian +rival, and probably as a Christian enemy in the same city, and he +thought that they would look at him askance. Living in Prague all his +life, he had hardly been above once or twice in the narrow streets +which he was now threading. Strangers who come to Prague visit the +Jews' quarter as a matter of course, and to such strangers the Jews of +Prague are invariably courteous. But the Christians of the city seldom +walk through the heart of the Jews' locality, or hang about the Jews' +synagogue, or are seen among their houses unless they have special +business. The Jews' quarter, though it is a banishment to the Jews from +the fairer portions of the city, is also a separate and somewhat sacred +castle in which they may live after their old fashion undisturbed. As +Ziska went on, he became aware that the throng of people was unusually +great, and that the day was in some sort more peculiar than the +ordinary Jewish Sabbath. That the young men and girls should be dressed +in their best clothes was, as a matter of course, incidental to the +day; but he could perceive that there was an outward appearance of gala +festivity about them which could not take place every week. The tall +bright-eyed black-haired girls stood talking in the streets, with +something of boldness in their gait and bearing, dressed many of them +in white muslin, with bright ribbons and full petticoats, and that +small bewitching Hungarian hat which they delight to wear. They stood +talking somewhat loudly to each other, or sat at the open windows; +while the young men in black frock-coats and black hats, with crimson +cravats, clustered by themselves, wishing, but not daring so early in +the day, to devote themselves to the girls, who appeared, or attempted +to appear, unaware of their presence. Who can say why it is that those +encounters, which are so ardently desired by both sides, are so rarely +able to get themselves commenced till the enemies have been long in +sight of each other? But so it is among Jews and Christians, among rich +and poor, out under the open sky, and even in the atmosphere of the +ball-room, consecrated though it be to such purposes. Go into any +public dancing-room of Vienna, where the girls from the shops and the +young men from their desks congregate to waltz and make love, and you +shall observe that from ten to twelve they will dance as vigorously as +at a later hour, but that they will hardly talk to each other till the +mellowness of the small morning hours has come upon them. + +Among these groups in the Jewish quarter Ziska made his way, conscious +that the girls eyed him and whispered to each other something as to +his presence, and conscious also that the young men eyed him also, +though they did so without speaking of him as he passed. He knew that +Trendellsohn lived close to the synagogue, and to the synagogue he made +his way. And as he approached the narrow door of the Jews' church, he +saw that a crowd of men stood round it, some in high caps and some in +black hats, but all habited in short muslin shirts, which they wore +over their coats. Such dresses he had seen before, and he knew that +these men were taking part from time to time in some service within +the synagogue. He did not dare to ask of one of them which was +Trendellsohn's house, but went on till he met an old man alone just at +the back of the building, dressed also in a high cap and shirt, which +shirt, however, was longer than those he had seen before. Plucking up +his courage, he asked of the old man which was the house of Anton +Trendellsohn. + +"Anton Trendellsohn has no house," said the old man; "but that is his +father's house, and there Anton Trendellsohn lives. I am Stephen +Trendellsohn, and Anton is my son." + +Ziska thanked him, and, crossing the street to the house, found that +the door was open, and that two girls were standing just within the +passage. The old man had gone, and Ziska, turning, had perceived that +he was out of sight before he reached the house. + +"I cannot come till my uncle returns," said the younger girl. + +"But, Ruth, he will be in the synagogue all day," said the elder, who +was that Rebecca Loth of whom the old Jew had spoken to his son. + +"Then all day I must remain," said Ruth; "but it may be he will be in +by one." Then Ziska addressed them, and asked if Anton Trendellsohn did +not live there. + +"Yes; he lives there," said Ruth, almost trembling, as she answered the +handsome stranger. + +"And is he at home?" + +"He is in the synagogue," said Ruth. "You will find him there if you +will go in." + +"But they are at worship there," said Ziska, doubtingly. + +"They will be at worship all day, because it is our festival," said +Rebecca, with her eyes fixed upon the ground; "but if you are a +Christian they will not object to your going in. They like that +Christians should see them. They are not ashamed." + +Ziska, looking into the girl's face, saw that she was very beautiful; +and he saw also at once that she was exactly the opposite of Nina, +though they were both of a height. Nina was fair, with grey eyes, and +smooth brown hair which seemed to demand no special admiration, though +it did in truth add greatly to the sweet delicacy of her face; and she +was soft in her gait, and appeared to be yielding and flexible in all +the motions of her body. You would think that if you were permitted to +embrace her, the outlines of her body would form themselves to yours, +as though she would in all things fit herself to him who might be +blessed by her love. But Rebecca Loth was dark, with large dark-blue +eyes and jet black tresses, which spoke out loud to the beholder of +their own loveliness. You could not fail to think of her hair and of +her eyes, as though they were things almost separate from herself. And +she stood like a queen, who knew herself to be all a queen, strong on +her limbs, wanting no support, somewhat hard withal, with a repellant +beauty that seemed to disdain while it courted admiration, and utterly +rejected the idea of that caressing assistance which men always love +to give, and which women often love to receive. At the present moment +she was dressed in a frock of white muslin, looped round the skirt, +and bright with ruby ribbons. She had on her feet coloured boots, +which fitted them to a marvel, and on her glossy hair a small new hat, +ornamented with the plumage of some strange bird. On her shoulders she +wore a coloured jacket, open down the front, sparkling with jewelled +buttons, over which there hung a chain with a locket. In her ears she +carried long heavy earrings of gold. Were it not that Ziska had seen +others as gay in their apparel on his way, he would have fancied that +she was tricked out for the playing of some special part, and that she +should hardly have shown herself in the streets with her gala finery. +Such was Rebecca Loth the Jewess, and Ziska almost admitted to himself +that she was more beautiful than Nina Balatka. + +"And are you also of the family?" Ziska asked. + +"No; she is not of the family," said Ruth. "She is my particular +friend, Rebecca Loth. She does not live here. She lives with her +brother and her mother." + +"Ruth, how foolish you are! What does it signify to the gentleman?" + +"But he asked, and so I supposed he wanted to know." + +"I have to apologise for intruding on you with any questions young +ladies," said Ziska; "especially on a day which seems to be solemn." + +"That does not matter at all," said Rebecca. "Here is my brother, +and he will take you into the synagogue if you wish to see Anton +Trendellsohn." Samuel Loth, her brother, then came up and readily +offered to take Ziska into the midst of the worshippers. Ziska would +have escaped now from the project could he have done so without remark; +but he was ashamed to seem afraid to enter the building, as the +girls seemed to make so light of his doing so. He therefore followed +Rebecca's brother, and in a minute or two was inside the narrow door. + +The door was very low and narrow, and seemed to be choked up by men +with short white surplices, but nevertheless he found himself inside, +jammed among a crowd of Jews; and a sound of many voices, going +together in a sing-song wail or dirge, met his ears. His first impulse +was to take off his hat, but that was immediately replaced upon his +head, he knew not by whom; and then he observed that all within the +building were covered. His guide did not follow him, but whispered to +some one what it was that the stranger required. He could see that +those inside the building were all clothed in muslin shirts of +different lengths, and that it was filled with men, all of whom had +before them some sort of desk, from which they were reading, or rather +wailing out their litany. Though this was the chief synagogue in +Prague, and, as being the so-called oldest in Europe, is a building +of some consequence in the Jewish world, it was very small. There was +no ceiling, and the high-pitched roof, which had once probably been +coloured, and the walls, which had once certainly been white, were +black with the dirt of ages. In the centre there was a cage, as it +were, or iron grille, within which five or six old Jews were placed, +who seemed to wail louder than the others. Round the walls there was +a row of men inside stationary desks, and outside them another row, +before each of whom there was a small movable standing desk, on which +there was a portion of the law of Moses. There seemed to be no possible +way by which Ziska could advance, and he would have been glad to +retreat had retreat been possible. But first one Jew and then another +moved their desks for him, so that he was forced to advance, and some +among them pointed to the spot where Anton Trendellsohn was standing. +But as they pointed, and as they moved their desks to make a pathway, +they still sang and wailed continuously, never ceasing for an instant +in their long, loud, melancholy song of prayer. At the further end +there seemed to be some altar, in front of which the High Priest wailed +louder than all, louder even than the old men within the cage; and even +he, the High Priest, was forced to move his desk to make way for Ziska. +But, apparently without displeasure, he moved it with his left hand, +while he swayed his right hand backwards and forwards as though +regulating the melody of the wail. Beyond the High Priest Ziska saw +Anton Trendellsohn, and close to the son he saw the old man whom he +had met in the street, and whom he recognised as Anton's father. Old +Trendellsohn seemed to take no notice of him, but Anton had watched him +from his entrance, and was prepared to speak to him, though he did not +discontinue his part in the dirge till the last moment. + +"I had a few words to say to you, if it would suit you," said Ziska, in +a low voice. + +"Are they of import?" Trendellsohn asked. "If so, I will come to you." + +Ziska then turned to make his way back, but he saw that this was not +to be his road for retreat. Behind him the movable phalanx had again +formed itself into close rank, but before him the wailing wearers of +the white shirts were preparing for the commotion of his passage by +grasping the upright stick of their movable desks in their hands. So he +passed on, making the entire round of the synagogue; and when he got +outside the crowded door, he found that the younger Trendellsohn had +followed him. "We had better go into the house," said Anton; "it will +not be well for us to talk here on any matter of business. Will you +follow me?" + +Then he led the way into the old house, and there at the front door +still stood the two girls talking to each other. + +"You have come back, uncle," said Ruth. + +"Yes; for a few moments, to speak to this gentleman." + +"And will you return to the synagogue?" + +"Of course I shall return to the synagogue." + +"Because Rebecca wishes me to go out with her," said the younger girl, +in a plaintive voice. + +"You cannot go out now. Your grandfather will want you when he +returns." + +"But, uncle Anton, he will not come till sunset." + +"My mother wished to have Ruth with her this afternoon if it were +possible," said Rebecca, hardly looking at Anton as she spoke to him; +"but of course if you will not give her leave I must return without +her." + +"Do you not know, Rebecca," said Anton, "that she is needful to her +grandfather?" + +"She could be back before sunset." + +"I will trust to you, then, that she is brought back." Ruth, as soon +as she heard the words, scampered up-stairs to array herself in such +finery as she possessed, while Rebecca still stood at the door. + +"Will you not come in, Rebecca, while you wait for her?" said Anton. + +"Thank you, I will stand here. I am very well here." + +"But the child will be ever so long making herself ready. Surely you +will come in." + +But Rebecca was obstinate, and kept her place at the door. "He has that +Christian girl there with him day after day," she said to Ruth as they +went away together. "I will never enter the house while she is allowed +to come there." + +"But Nina is very good," said Ruth. + +"I do not care for her goodness." + +"Do you not know that she is to be uncle Anton's wife?" + +"They have told me so, but she shall be no friend of mine, Ruth. Is it +not shameful that he should wish to marry a Christian?" + +When the two men had reached the sitting-room in the Jew's house, and +Ziska had seated himself, Anton Trendellsohn closed the door, and +asked, not quite in anger, but with something of sternness in his +voice, why he had been disturbed while engaged in an act of worship. + +"They told me that you would not mind my going in to you," said Ziska, +deprecating his wrath. + +"That depends on your business. What is it that you have to say to me?" + +"It is this. When you came to us the other day in the Ross Markt, we +were hardly prepared for you. We did not expect you." + +"Your mother could hardly have received me better had she expected me +for a twelvemonth." + +"You cannot be surprised that my mother should be vexed. Besides, you +would not be angry with a lady for what she might say." + +"I care but little what she says. But words, my friend, are things, +and are often things of great moment. All that, however, matters very +little. Why have you done us the honour of coming to our house?" + +Even Ziska could perceive, though his powers of perception in such +matters were perhaps not very great, that the Jew in the Jews' quarter, +and the Jew in the Ross Markt, were very different persons. Ziska was +now sitting while Anton Trendellsohn was standing over him. Ziska, when +he remembered that Anton had not been seated in his father's office-- +had not been asked to sit down--would have risen himself, and have +stood during the interview, but he did not know how to leave his seat. +And when the Jew called him his friend, he felt that the Jew was +getting the better of him--was already obtaining the ascendant. "Of +course we wish to prevent this marriage," said Ziska, dashing at once +at his subject. + +"You cannot prevent it. The law allows it. If that is what you have to +come to do, you may as well return." + +"But listen to me, my friend," said Ziska, taking a leaf out of the +Jew's book. "Only listen to me, and then I shall go." + +"Speak, then, and I will listen; but be quick." + +"You want, of course, to be made right about those houses?" + +"My father, to whom they belong, wishes to be made right, as you call +it." + +"It is all the same thing. Now, look here. The truth is this. +Everything shall be settled for you, and the whole thing given up +regularly into your hands, if you will only give over about Nina +Balatka." + +"But I will not give over about Nina Balatka. Am I to be bribed out of +my love by an offer of that which is already mine own? But that you are +in my father's house, I would be wrathful with you for making me such +an offer." + +"Why should you seek a Christian wife, with such maidens among you as +her whom I saw at the door?" + +"Do not mind the maiden whom you saw at the door. She is nothing to +you." + +"No; she is nothing to me. Of course, the lady is nothing to me. If I +were to come here looking for her, you would be angry, and would bid me +seek for beauty among my own people. Would you not do so? Answer me +now." + +"Like enough. Rebecca Loth has many friends who would take her part." + +"And why should we not take Nina's part--we who are her friends?" + +"Have you taken her part? Have you comforted her when she was in +sorrow? Have you wiped her tears when she wept? Have you taken from her +the stings of poverty, and striven to make the world to her a pleasant +garden? She has no mother of her own. Has yours been a mother to her? +Why is it that Nina Balatka has cared to receive the sympathy and the +love of a Jew? Ask that girl whom you saw at the door for some corner +in her heart, and she will scorn you. She, a Jewess, will scorn you, a +Christian. She would so look at you that you would not dare to repeat +your prayer. Why is it that Nina has not so scorned me? We are lodged +poorly here, while Nina's aunt has a fine house in the New Town. She +has a carriage and horses, and the world around her is gay and bright. +Why did Nina come to the Jews' quarter for sympathy, seeing that she, +too, has friends of her own persuasion? Take Nina's part, indeed! It is +too late now for you to take her part. She has chosen for herself, and +her resting-place is to be here." Trendellsohn, as he spoke, put his +hand upon his breast, within the fold of his waistcoat; but Ziska +hardly understood that his doing so had any special meaning. Ziska +supposed that the "here" of which the Jew spoke was the old house in +which they were at that moment talking to each other. + +"I am sure we have meant to be kind to her," said Ziska. + +"You see the effect of your kindness. I tell you this only in answer to +what you said as to the young woman whom you saw at the door. Have you +aught else to say to me? I utterly decline that small matter of traffic +which you have proposed to me." + +"It was not traffic exactly." + +"Very well. What else is there that I can do for you?" + +"I hardly know how to go on, as you are so--so hard in all that you +say." + +"You will not be able to soften me, I fear." + +"About the houses--though you say that I am trafficking, I really wish +to be honest with you." + +"Say what you have to say, then, and be honest." + +"I have never seen but one document which conveys the ownership of +those houses." + +"Let my father, then, have that one document." + +"It is in Balatka's house." + +"That can hardly be possible," said Trendellsohn. + +"As I am a Christian gentleman," said Ziska, "I believe it to be in +that house." + +"As I am a Jew, sir, fearing God," said the other, "I do not believe +it. Who in that house has the charge of it?" + +Ziska hesitated before he replied. "Nina, as I think," he said at last. +"I suppose Nina has it herself." + +"Then she would be a traitor to me." + +"What am I to say as to that?" said Ziska, smiling. Trendellsohn came +to him and sat down close at his side, looking closely into his face. +Ziska would have moved away from the Jew, but the elbow of the sofa +did not admit of his receding; and then, while he was thinking that he +would escape by rising from his seat, Anton spoke again in a low voice +--so low that it was almost a whisper, but the words seemed to fall +direct into Ziska's ears, and to hurt him. "What are you to say? You +called yourself just now a Christian gentleman. Neither the one name +nor the other goes for aught with me. I am neither the one nor the +other. But I am a man; and I ask you, as another man, whether it be +true that Nina Balatka has that paper in her possession--in her own +possession, mind you, I say." Ziska had hesitated before, but his +hesitation now was much more palpable. "Why do you not answer me?" +continued the Jew. "You have made this accusation against her. Is +the accusation true?" + +"I think she has it," said Ziska. "Indeed I feel sure of it." + +"In her own hands?" + +"Oh yes; in her own hands. Of course it must be in her own hands." + +"Christian gentleman," said Anton, rising again from his seat, and now +standing opposite to Ziska, "I disbelieve you. I think that you are +lying to me. Despite your Christianity, and despite your gentility--you +are a liar. Now, sir, unless you have anything further to say to me, +you may go." + +Ziska, when thus addressed, rose of course from his seat. By nature he +was not a coward, but he was unready, and knew not what to do or to say +on the spur of the moment. "I did not come here to be insulted," he +said. + +"No; you came to insult me, with two falsehoods in your mouth, either +of which proves the other to be a lie. You offer to give me up the +deeds on certain conditions, and then tell me that they are with the +girl! If she has them, how can you surrender them? I do not know +whether so silly a story might prevail between two Christians, but we +Jews have been taught among you to be somewhat observant. Sir, it is +my belief that the document belonging to my father is in your father's +desk in the Ross Markt." + +"By heaven, it is in the house in the Kleinseite." + +"How could you then have surrendered it?" + +"It could have been managed." + +It was now the Jew's turn to pause and hesitate. In the general +conclusion to which his mind had come, he was not far wrong. He +thought that Ziska was endeavouring to deceive him in the spirit of +what he said, but that as regarded the letter, the young man was +endeavouring to adhere to some fact for the salvation of his conscience +as a Christian. If Anton Trendellsohn could but find out in what lay +the quibble, the discovery might be very serviceable to him. "It could +have been managed--could it?" he said, speaking very slowly. "Between +you and her, perhaps." + +"Well, yes; between me and Nina--or between some of us," said Ziska. + +"And cannot it be managed now?" + +"Nina is not one of us now. How can we deal with her?" + +"Then I will deal with her myself. I will manage it if it is to be +managed. And, sir, if I find that in this matter you have told me the +simple truth--not the truth, mind you, as from a gentleman, or the +truth as from a Christian, for I suspect both--but the simple truth as +from man to man, then I will express my sorrow for the harsh words I +have used to you." As he finished speaking, Trendellsohn held the door +of the room open in his hand, and Ziska, not being ready with any +answer, passed through it and descended the stairs. The Jew followed +him and also held open the house door, but did not speak again as Ziska +went out. Nor did Ziska say a word, the proper words not being ready to +his tongue. The Jew returned at once into the synagogue, having during +the interview with Ziska worn the short white surplice in which he had +been found; and Ziska returned at once to his own house in the +Windberg-gasse. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Early on the following morning--the morning of the Christian Sunday-- +Nina Balatka received a note, a very short note, from her lover the +Jew. "Dearest, meet me on the bridge this evening at eight. I will be +at your end on the right-hand pathway exactly at eight. Thine, ever and +always, A. T." Nina, directly she had read the words, rushed out to the +door in order that she might give assurance to the messenger that she +would do as she was bidden; but the messenger was gone, and Nina was +obliged to reconcile herself to the prospect of silent obedience. The +note, however, had made her very happy, and the prospect pleased her +well. It was on this very day that she had intended to go to her lover; +but it was in all respects much pleasanter to her that her lover should +come to her. And then, to walk with him was of all things the most +delightful, especially in the gloom of the evening, when no eyes could +see her--no eyes but his own. She could hang upon his arm, and in this +way she could talk more freely with him than in any other. And then the +note had in it more of the sweetness of a love-letter than any written +words which she had hitherto received from him. It was very short, no +doubt, but he had called her "Dearest," instead of "Dear Nina," as had +been his custom, and then he had declared that he was hers ever and +always. No words could have been sweeter. She was glad that the note +was so short, because there was nothing in it to mar her pleasure. Yes, +she would be there at eight. She was quite determined that she would +not keep him waiting. + +At half-past seven she was on the bridge. There could be no reason, she +thought, why she should not walk across it to the other side and then +retrace her steps, though in doing so she was forced, by the rule of +the road upon the bridge, to pass to the Old Town by the right-hand +pathway in going, while he must come to her by the opposite side. But +she would walk very quickly and watch very closely. If she did not see +him as she crossed and recrossed, she would at any rate be on the spot +indicated at the time named. The autumn evenings had become somewhat +chilly, and she wrapped her thin cloak close round her, as she felt the +night air as she came upon the open bridge. But she was not cold. She +told herself that she could not and would not be cold. How could she be +cold when she was going to meet her lover? The night was dark, for the +moon was now gone and the wind was blowing; but there were a few stars +bright in the heaven, and when she looked down through the parapets of +the bridge, there was just light enough for her to see the black water +flowing fast beneath her. She crossed quickly to the figure of St John, +that she might look closely on those passing on the other side, and +after a few moments recrossed the road. It was the figure of the saint, +St John Nepomucene, who was thrown from this very bridge and drowned, +and who has ever since been the protector of good Christians from the +fate which he himself had suffered. Then Nina bethought herself whether +she was a good Christian, and whether St John of the Bridge would be +justified in interposing on her behalf, should she be in want of him. +She had strong doubts as to the validity of her own Christianity, now +that she loved a Jew; and feared that it was more than probable that St +John would do nothing for her, were she in such a strait as that in +which he was supposed to interfere. But why now should she think of any +such danger? Lotta Luxa had told her to drown herself when she should +find herself to have been jilted by her Jew lover; but her Jew lover +was true to her; she had his dear words at that moment in her bosom, +and in a few moments her hand would be resting on his arm. So she +passed on from the statue of St John, with her mind made up that +she did not want St John's aid. Some other saint she would want, no +doubt, and she prayed a little silent prayer to St Nicholas, that he +would allow her to marry the Jew without taking offence at her. Her +circumstances had been very hard, as the saint must know, and she had +meant to do her best. Might it not be possible, if the saint would help +her, that she might convert her husband? But as she thought of this, +she shook her head. Anton Trendellsohn was not a man to be changed in +his religion by any words which she could use. It would be much more +probable, she knew, that the conversion would be the other way. And she +thought she would not mind that, if only it could be a real conversion. +But if she were induced to say that she was a Jewess, while she still +believed in St Nicholas and St John, and in the beautiful face of the +dear Virgin--if to please her husband she were to call herself a Jewess +while she was at heart a Christian--then her state would be very +wretched. She prayed again to St Nicholas to keep her from that state. +If she were to become a Jewess, she hoped that St Nicholas would let +her go altogether, heart and soul, into Judaism. + +When she reached the end of the long bridge she looked anxiously up the +street by which she knew that he must come, endeavouring to discover +his figure by the glimmering light of an oil-lamp that hung at an angle +in the street, or by the brighter glare which came from the gas in a +shop-window by which he must pass. She stood thus looking and looking +till she thought he would never come. Then she heard the clock in the +old watch-tower of the bridge over her head strike three-quarters, and +she became aware that, instead of her lover being after his time, she +had yet to wait a quarter of an hour for the exact moment which he +had appointed. She did not in the least mind waiting. She had been +a little uneasy when she thought that he had neglected or forgotten +his own appointment. So she turned again and walked back towards the +Kleinseite, fixing her eyes, as she had so often done, on the rows of +windows which glittered along the great dark mass of the Hradschin +Palace. What were they all doing up there, those slow and faded +courtiers to an ex-Emperor, that they should want to burn so many +candles? Thinking of this she passed the tablet on the bridge, and, +according to her custom, put the end of her fingers on it. But as she +was raising her hand to her mouth to kiss it she remembered that the +saint might not like such service from one who was already half a Jew +at heart, and she refrained. She refrained, and then considered whether +the bridge might not topple down with her into the stream because of +her iniquity. But it did not topple down, and now she was standing +beyond any danger from the water at the exact spot which Trendellsohn +had named. She stood still lest she might possibly miss him by moving, +till she was again cold. But she did not regard that, though she +pressed her cloak closely round her limbs. She did not move till she +heard the first sound of the bell as it struck eight, and then she +gave a little jump as she found that her lover was close upon her. + +"So you are here, Nina," he said, putting his hand upon her arm. + +"Of course I am here, Anton. I have been looking, and looking, and +looking, thinking you never would come; and how did you get here?" + +"I am as punctual as the clock, my love." + +"Oh yes, you are punctual, I know; but where did you come from?" + +"I came down the hill from the Hradschin. I have had business there. It +did not occur to your simplicity that I could reach you otherwise than +by the direct road from my own home." + +"I never thought of your coming from the side of the Hradschin," said +Nina, wondering whether any of those lights she had seen could have +been there for the use of Anton Trendellsohn. "I am so glad you have +come to me. It is so good of you." + +"It is good of you to come and meet me, my own one. But you are cold. +Let us walk, and you will be warmer." + +Nina, who had already put her hand upon her lover's arm, thrust it in +a little farther, encouraged by such sweet words; and then he took her +little hand in his, and drew her still nearer to him, till she was +clinging to him very closely. "Nina, my own one," he said again. He had +never before been in so sweet a mood with her. Walk with him? Yes; she +would walk with him all night if he would let her. Instead of turning +again over the bridge as she had expected, he took her back into the +Kleinseite, not bearing round to the right in the direction of her +own house, but going up the hill into a large square, round which +the pathway is covered by the overhanging houses, as is common for +avoidance of heat in Southern cities. Here, under the low colonnade, it +was very dark, and the passengers going to and fro were not many. At +each angle of the square where the neighbouring streets entered it, +in the open space, there hung a dull, dim oil-lamp; but other light +there was none. Nina, however, did not mind the darkness while Anton +Trendellsohn was with her. Even when walking close under the buttresses +of St Nicholas--of St Nicholas, who could not but have been offended-- +close under the very niche in which stood the statue of the saint--she +had no uncomfortable qualms. When Anton was with her she did not much +regard the saints. It was when she was alone that those thoughts on her +religion came to disturb her mind. "I do so like walking with you," she +said. "It is the nicest way of talking in the world." + +"I want to ask you a question, Nina," said Anton; "or perhaps two +questions." The tight grasping clasp made on his arm by the tips of her +fingers relaxed itself a little as she heard his words, and remarked +their altered tone. It was not, then, to be all love; and she could +perceive that he was going to be serious with her, and, as she feared, +perhaps angry. Whenever he spoke to her on any matter of business, his +manner was so very serious as to assume in her eyes, when judged by her +feelings, an appearance of anger. The Jew immediately felt the little +movement of her fingers, and hastened to reassure her. "I am quite sure +that your answers will satisfy me." + +"I hope so," said Nina. But the pressure of her hand upon his arm was +not at once repeated. + +"I have seen your cousin Ziska, Nina; indeed, I have seen him twice +lately; and I have seen your uncle and your aunt." + +"I suppose they did not say anything very pleasant about me." + +"They did not say anything very pleasant about anybody or about +anything. They were not very anxious to be pleasant; but that I did +not mind." + +"I hope they did not insult you, Anton?" + +"We Jews are used as yet to insolence from Christians, and do not mind +it." + +They shall never more be anything to me, if they have insulted you." + +"It is nothing, Nina. We bear those things, and think that such of you +Christians as use that liberty of a vulgar tongue, which is still +possible towards a Jew in Prague, are simply poor in heart and +ignorant." + +"They are poor in heart and ignorant." + +"I first went to your uncle's office in the Ross Markt, where I saw him +and your aunt and Ziska. And afterwards Ziska came to me, at our own +house. He was tame enough then." + +"To your own house?" + +"Yes; to the Jews' quarter. Was it not a condescension? He came into +our synagogue and ferreted me out. You may be sure that he had +something very special to say when he did that. But he looked as though +he thought that his life were in danger among us." + +"But, Anton, what had he to say?" + +"I will tell you. He wanted to buy me off." + +"Buy you off!" + +"Yes; to bribe me to give you up. Aunt Sophie does not relish the idea +of having a Jew for her nephew." + +"Aunt Sophie!--but I will never call her Aunt Sophie again. Do you mean +that they offered you money?" + +"They offered me property, my dear, which is the same. But they did it +economically, for they only offered me my own. They were kind enough to +suggest that if I would merely break my word to you, they would tell me +how I could get the title-deeds of the houses, and thus have the power +of turning your father out into the street." + +"You have the power. He would go at once if you bade him." + +"I do not wish him to go. As I have told you often, he is welcome to +the use of the house. He shall have it for his life, as far as I am +concerned. But I should like to have what is my own." + +"And what did you say?" Nina, as she asked the question, was very +careful not to tighten her hold upon his arm by the weight of a single +ounce. + +"What did I say? I said that I had many things that I valued greatly, +but that I had one thing that I valued more than gold or houses--more +even than my right." + +"And what is that?" said Nina, stopping suddenly, so that she might +hear clearly every syllable of the words which were to come. "What is +that?" She did not even yet add an ounce to the pressure; but her +fingers were ready. + +"A poor thing," said Anton; "just the heart of a Christian girl." + +Then the hand was tightened, or rather the two hands, for they were +closed together upon his arm; and his other arm was wound round her +waist; and then, in the gloom of the dark colonnade, he pressed her +to his bosom, and kissed her lips and her forehead, and then her lips +again. "No," he said, "they have not bribed high enough yet to get from +me my treasure--my treasure." + +"Dearest, am I your treasure?" + +"Are you not? What else have I that I make equal to you?" Nina was +supremely happy--triumphant in her happiness. She cared nothing for her +aunt, nothing for Lotta Luxa and her threats; and very little at the +present moment even for St Nicholas or St John of the Bridge. To be +told by her lover that she was his own treasure, was sufficient to +banish for the time all her miseries and all her fears. + +"You are my treasure. I want you to remember that, and to believe it," +said the Jew. + +"I will believe it," said Nina, trembling with anxious eagerness. Could +it be possible that she would ever forget it? + +"And now I will ask my questions. Where are those title-deeds?" + +"Where are they?" said she, repeating his question. + +"Yes; where are they?" + +"Why do you ask me? And why do you look like that?" + +"I want you to tell me where they are, to the best of your knowledge." + +"Uncle Karil has them--or else Ziska." + +"You are sure of that?" + +"How can I be sure? I am not sure at all. But Ziska said something +which made me feel sure of it, as I told you before. And I have +supposed always that they must be in the Ross Markt. Where else can +they be?" + +"Your aunt says that you have got them." + +"That I have got them?" + +"Yes, you. That is what she intends me to understand." The Jew had +stopped at one of the corners, close under the little lamp, and looked +intently into Nina's face as he spoke to her. + +"And you believe her?" said Nina. + +But he went on without noticing her question. "She intends me +to believe that you have got them, and are keeping them from me +fraudulently! cheating me, in point of fact--that you are cheating me, +so that you may have some hold over the property for your own purposes. +That is what your aunt wishes me to believe. She is a wise woman, is +she not? and very clever. In one breath she tries to bribe me to give +you up, and in the next she wants to convince me that you are not worth +keeping." + +"But, Anton--" + +"Nay, Nina, I will not put you to the trouble of protestation. Look at +that star. I should as soon suspect the light which God has placed in +the heaven of misleading me, as I should suspect you." + +"Oh, Anton, dear Anton, I do so love you for saying that! Would it be +possible that I should keep anything from you?" + +"I think you would keep nothing from me. Were you to do so, you could +not be my own love any longer. A man's wife must be true to him in +everything, or she is not his wife. I could endure not only no fraud +from you, but neither could I endure falsehood." + +"I have never been false to you. With God's help I never will be false +to you." + +"He has given you His help. He has made you true-hearted, and I do not +doubt you. Now answer me another question. Is it possible that your +father should have the paper?" + +Nina paused a moment, and then she replied with eagerness, "Quite +impossible. I am sure that he knows nothing of it more than you know." +When she had so spoken they walked in silence for a few yards, but +Anton did not at once reply to her. "You do not think that father is +keeping anything from you, do you," said Nina. + +"I do not know," said the Jew. "I am not sure." + +"You may be sure. You may be quite sure. Father is at least honest." + +"I have always thought so." + +"And do you not think so still?" + +"Look here, Nina. I do not know that there is a Christian in Prague who +would feel it to be beneath him to rob a Jew, and I do not altogether +blame them. They believe that we would rob them, and many of us do so. +We are very sharp, each on the other, dealing against each other always +in hatred, never in love--never even in friendship." + +"But, for all that, my father has never wronged you." + +"He should not do so, for I am endeavouring to be kind to him. For your +sake, Nina, I would treat him as though he were a Jew himself." + +"He has never wronged you; I am sure that he has never wronged you." + +"Nina, you are more to me than you are to him." + +"Yes. I am--I am your own; but yet I will declare that he has never +wronged you." + +"And I should be more to you than he is." + +"You are more--you are everything to me; but, still, I know that he has +never wronged you." + +Then the Jew paused again, still walking onwards through the dark +colonnade with her hand upon his arm. They walked in silence the whole +side of the large square. Nina waiting patiently to hear what would +come next, and Trendellsohn considering what words he would use. He did +suspect her father, and it was needful to his purpose that he should +tell her so; and it was needful also, as he thought, that she should be +made to understand that in her loyalty and truth to him she must give +up her father, or even suspect her father, if his purpose required that +she should do so. Though she were still a Christian herself, she must +teach herself to look at other Christians, even at those belonging to +herself, with Jewish eyes. Unless she could do so she would not be true +and loyal to him with that troth and loyalty which he required. Poor +Nina! It was the dearest wish of her heart to be true and loyal to him +in all things; but it might be possible to put too hard a strain even +upon such love as hers. "Nina," the Jew said, "I fear your father. I +think that he is deceiving us." + +"No, Anton, no! he is not deceiving you. My aunt and uncle and Ziska +are deceiving you." + +"They are trying to deceive me, no doubt; but as far as I can judge +from their own words and looks, they do believe that at this moment the +document which I want is in your father's house. As far as I can judge +their thoughts from their words, they think that it is there." + +"It is not there," said Nina, positively. + +"That is what we must find out. Your uncle was silent. He said nothing, +or next to nothing." + +"He is the best of the three, by far," said Nina. + +"Your aunt is a clever woman in spite her blunder about you; and had I +dealt with her only I should have thought that she might have expressed +herself as she did, and still have had the paper in her own keeping. I +could not read her mind as I could read his. Women will lie better than +men." + +"But men can lie too," said Nina. + +"Your cousin Ziska is a fool." + +"He is a fox," said Nina. + +"He is a fool in comparison with his mother. And I had him in my own +house, under my thumb, as it were. Of course he lied. Of course he +tried to deceive me. But, Nina, he believes that the document is here-- +in your house. Whether it be there or not, Ziska thinks that it is +there." + +"Ziska is more fox than fool," said Nina. + +"Let that be as it may. I tell you the truth of him. He thinks it is +here. Now, Nina, you must search for it." + +"It is not there, Anton. I tell you of my own knowledge, it is not in +the house. Come and search yourself. Come to-morrow. Come to-night, if +you will." + +"It would be of no use. I could not search as you can do. Tell me, +Nina; has your father no place locked up which is not open to you?" + +"Yes; he has his old desk; you know it, where it stands in the +parlour." + +"You never open that?" + +"No, never; but there is nothing there--nothing of that nature." + +"How can you tell? Or he can keep it about his person?" + +"He keeps it nowhere. He has not got it. Dear Anton, put it out of your +head. You do not know my cousin Ziska. That he has it in his own hands +I am now sure." + +"And I, Nina, am sure that it is here in the Kleinseite--or at least +am sure that he thinks it to be so. The question now is this: Will you +obey me in what directions I may give you concerning it?" Nina could +not bring herself to give an unqualified reply to this demand on the +spur of the moment. Perhaps it occurred to her that the time for such +implicit obedience on her part had hardly yet come--that as yet at +least she must not be less true to her father than to her lover. She +hesitated, therefore, in answering him. "Do you not understand me, +Nina?" he said roughly. "I asked you whether you will do as I would +have you do, and you make no reply. We two, Nina, must be one in all +things, or else we must be apart--in all things." + +"I do not know what it is you wish of me," she said, trembling. + +"I wish you to obey me." + +"But suppose--" + +"I know that you must trust me first before you can obey me." + +"I do trust you. You know that I trust you." + +"Then you should obey me." + +"But not to suspect my own father!" + +"I do not ask you to suspect him." + +"But you suspect him?" + +"Yes; I do. I am older than you, and know more of men and their ways +than you can do. I do suspect him. You must promise me that you will +search for this deed." + +Again she paused, but after a moment or two a thought struck her, and +she replied eagerly, "Anton, I will tell you what I will do. I will ask +him openly. He and I have always been open to each other." + +"If he is concealing it, do you think he will tell you?" + +"Yes, he would tell me. But he is not concealing it." + +"Will you look?" + +"I cannot take his keys from him and open his box." + +"You mean that you will not do as I bid you?" + +"I cannot do it. Consider of it, Anton. Could you treat your own father +in such a way?" + +"I would cling to you sooner than to him. I have told him so, and he +has threatened to turn me penniless from his house. Still I shall cling +to you, because you are my love. I shall do so if you are equally true +to me. That is my idea of love. There can be no divided allegiance." + +And this also was Nina's idea of love--an idea up to which she had +striven to act and live when those around her had threatened her with +all that earth and heaven could do to her if she would not abandon the +Jew. But she had anticipated no such trial as that which had now come +upon her. "Dear Anton," she said, appealing to him weakly in her +weakness, "if you did but know how I love you!" + +"You must prove your love." + +"Am I not ready to prove it? Would I not give up anything, everything, +for you?" + +"Then you must assist me in this thing, as I am desiring you." As he +said this they had reached the corner from whence the street ran in the +direction of the bridge, and into this he turned instead of continuing +their walk round the square. She said nothing as he did so; but +accompanied him, still leaning upon his arm. He walked on quickly and +in silence till they came to the turn which led towards Balatka's +house, and then he stopped. "It is late," said he, "and you had better +go home." + +"May I not cross the bridge with you?" + +"You had better go home." His voice was very stern, and as she dropped +her hand from his arm she felt it to be impossible to leave him in that +way. Were she to do so, she would never be allowed to speak to him or +to see him again. "Good-night," he said, preparing to turn from her. + +"Anton, Anton, do not leave me like that." + +"How then shall I leave you? Shall I say that it does not matter +whether you obey me or not? It does matter. Between you and me such +obedience matters everything. If we are to be together, I must abandon +everything for you, and you must comply in everything with me." Then +Nina, leaning close upon him, whispered into his ear that she would +obey him. + + + + +VOLUME II + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Nina's misery as she went home was almost complete. She had not, +indeed, quarrelled with her lover, who had again caressed her as she +left him, and assured her of his absolute confidence, but she had +undertaken a task against which her very soul revolted. It gave her +no comfort to say to herself that she had undertaken to look for that +which she knew she would not find, and that therefore her search could +do no harm. She had, in truth, consented to become a spy upon her +father, and was so to do in furtherance of the views of one who +suspected her father of fraud, and who had not scrupled to tell her +that her father was dishonest. Now again she thought of St Nicholas, as +she heard the dull chime of the clock from the saint's tower, and found +herself forced to acknowledge that she was doing very wickedly in +loving a Jew. Of course troubles would come upon her. What else could +she expect? Had she not endeavoured to throw behind her and to trample +under foot all that she had learned from her infancy under the guidance +of St Nicholas? Of course the saint would desert her. The very sound +of the chime told her that he was angry with her. How could she hope +again that St John would be good to her? Was it not to be expected +that the black-flowing river over which she understood him to preside +would become her enemy and would swallow her up--as Lotta Luxa had +predicted? Before she returned home, when she was quite sure that Anton +Trendellsohn had already passed over, she went down upon the bridge, +and far enough along the causeway to find herself over the river, and +there, crouching down, she looked at the rapid-running silent black +stream beneath her. The waters were very silent and very black, but +she could still see or feel that they were running rapidly. And they +were cold, too. She herself at the present moment was very cold. She +shuddered as she looked down, pressing her face against the stone-work, +with her two hands resting on two of the pillars of the parapet. It +would be very terrible. She did not think that she much cared for +death. The world had been so hard to her, and was growing so much +harder, that it would be a good thing to get away from it. If she could +become ill and die, with a good kind nun standing by her bedside, and +with the cross pressed to her bosom, and with her eyes fixed on the +sweet face of the Virgin Mother as it was painted in the little picture +in her room--in that way she thought that death might even be grateful. +But to be carried away she knew not whither in the cold, silent, black- +flowing Moldau! And yet she half believed the prophecy of Lotta. Such a +quiet death as that she had pictured to herself could not be given to +her! What nun would come to her bedside--to the bed of a girl who had +declared to all Prague that she intended to marry a Jew? For weeks past +she had feared even to look at the picture of the Virgin. + +"I'm afraid you'll think I am very late, father," she said, as soon as +she reached home. + +Her father muttered something, but not angrily, and she soon busied +herself about him, doing some little thing for his comfort, as was +her wont. But as she did so she could not but remember that she had +undertaken to be a spy upon him, to secrete his key, and to search +surreptitiously for that which he was supposed to be keeping +fraudulently. As she sat by him empty-handed--for it was Sunday night, +and as a Christian she never worked with a needle upon the Sunday--she +told herself that she could not do it. Could there be any harm done +were she to ask him now, openly, what papers he kept in that desk? But +she desired to obey her lover where obedience was possible, and he had +expressly forbidden her to ask any such question. She sat, therefore, +and said no word that could tend to ease her suffering; and then, when +the time came, she went suffering to her bed. + +On the next day there seemed to come to her no opportunity for doing +that which she had to do. Souchey was in and out of the house all the +morning, explaining to her that they had almost come to the end of the +flour and of the potatoes which he had bought, that he himself had +swallowed on the previous evening the last tip of the great sausage-- +for, as he had alleged, it was no use a fellow dying of starvation +outright--and that there was hardly enough of chocolate left to make +three cups. Nina had brought out her necklace and had asked Souchey to +take it to the shop and do the best with it he could; but Souchey had +declined the commission, alleging that he would be accused of having +stolen it; and Nina had then prepared to go herself, but her father had +called her, and he had come out into the sitting-room and had remained +there during the afternoon, so that both the sale of the trinket and +the search in the desk had been postponed. The latter she might have +done at night, but when the night came the deed seemed to be more +horrid than it would be even in the day. + +She observed also, more accurately than she had ever done before, that +he always carried the key of his desk with him. He did not, indeed, put +it under his pillow, or conceal it in bed, but he placed it with an old +spectacle-case which he always carried, and a little worn pocket-book +which Nina knew to be empty, on a low table which stood at his bed- +head; and now during the whole of the afternoon he had the key on the +table beside him. Nina did not doubt but that she could take the key +while he was asleep; for when he was even half asleep--which was +perhaps his most customary state--he would not stir when she entered +the room. But if she took it at all, she would do so in the day. She +could not bring herself to creep into the room in the night, and to +steal the key in the dark. As she lay in bed she still thought of it. +She had promised her lover that she would do this thing. Should she +resolve not to do it, in spite of that promise, she must at any rate +tell Anton of her resolution. She must tell him, and then there would +be an end of everything. Would it be possible for her to live without +her love? + +On the following morning it occurred to her that she might perhaps be +able to induce her father to speak of the houses, and of those horrid +documents of which she had heard so much, without disobeying any of +Trendellsohn's behests. There could, she thought, be no harm in her +asking her father some question as to the ownership of the houses, +and as to the Jew's right to the property. Her father had very often +declared in her presence that old Trendellsohn could turn him into the +street at any moment. There had been no secrets between her and her +father as to their poverty, and there could be no reason why her tongue +should now be silenced, so long as she refrained from any positive +disobedience to her lover's commands. That he must be obeyed she still +recognised as the strongest rule of all--obeyed, that is, till she +should go to him and lay down her love at his feet, and give back to +him the troth which he had given her. + +"Father," she said to the old man about noon that day, "I suppose this +house does belong to the Trendellsohns?" + +"Of course it does," said he, crossly. + +"Belongs to them altogether, I mean?" she said. + +"I don't know what you call altogether. It does belong to them, and +there's an end of it. What's the good of talking about it?" + +"Only if so, they ought to have those deeds they are so anxious about. +Everybody ought to have what is his own. Don't you think so, father?" + +"I am keeping nothing from them," said he; "you don't suppose that I +want to rob them?" + +"Of course you do not." Then Nina paused again. She was drawing +perilously near to forbidden ground, if she were not standing on it +already; and yet she was very anxious that the subject should not be +dropped between her and her father. + +"I'm sure you do not want to rob anyone, father. But--" + +"But what? I suppose young Trendellsohn has been talking to you again +about it. I suppose he suspects me; if so, no doubt, you will suspect +me too." + +"Oh, father! how can you be so cruel?" + +"If he thinks the papers are here, it is his own house; let him come +and search for them." + +"He will not do that, I am sure." + +"What is it he wants, then? I can't go out to your uncle and make him +give them up." + +"They are, then, with uncle?" + +"I suppose so; but how am I to know? You see how they treat me. I +cannot go to them, and they never come to me--except when that woman +comes to scold." + +"But they can't belong to uncle." + +"Of course they don't." + +"Then why should he keep them? What good can they do him? When I spoke +to Ziska, Ziska said they should be kept, because Trendellsohn is a +Jew; but surely a Jew has a right to his own. We at any rate ought to +do what we can for him, Jew as he is, since he lets us live in his +house." + +The slight touch of irony which Nina had thrown into her voice when she +spoke of what was due to her lover even though he was a Jew was not +lost upon her father. "Of course you would take his part against a +Christian," he said. + +"I take no one's part against anyone," said she, "except so far as +right is concerned. If we take a Jew's money, I think we should give +him the thing which he purchases." + +"Who is keeping him from it?" said Balatka, angrily. + +"Well--I suppose it is my uncle," replied Nina. + +"Why cannot you let me be at peace then?" + +Having so said he turned himself round to the wall, and Nina felt +herself to be in a worse position than ever. There was nothing now for +her but to take the key, or else to tell her lover that she would not +obey him. There could be no further hope in diplomacy. She had just +resolved that she could not take the key--that in spite of her promise +she could not bring herself to treat her father after such fashion as +that--when the old man turned suddenly round upon her again, and went +back to the subject. + +"I have got a letter somewhere from Karil Zamenoy," said he, "telling +me that the deed is in his own chest." + +"Have you, father?" said she, anxiously, but struggling to repress her +anxiety. + +"I had it, I know. It was written ever so long ago--before I had +settled with the Trendellsohns; but I have seen it often since. Take +the key and unlock the desk, and bring me the bundle of papers that +are tied with an old tape; or--stop--bring me all the papers." With +trembling hand Nina took the key. She was now desired by her father to +do exactly that which her lover wished her to have done; or, better +still, her father was about to do the thing himself. She would at any +rate have positive proof that the paper was not in her father's desk. +He had desired her to bring all the papers, so that there would be no +doubt left. She took the key very gently, as softly as was possible to +her, and went slowly into the other room. When there she unlocked the +desk and took out the bundle of letters tied with an old tape which lay +at the top ready to her hand. Then she collected together the other +papers, which were not many, and without looking at them carried them +to her father. She studiously avoided any scrutiny of what there might +be, even by so much as a glance of her eye. "This seems to be all there +is, father, except one or two old account-books." + +He took the bundle, and with feeble hands untied the tape and moved +the documents, one by one. Nina felt that she was fully warranted in +looking at them now, as her father was in fact showing them to her. +In this way she would be able to give evidence in his favour without +having had recourse to any ignoble practice. The old man moved every +paper in the bundle, and she could see that they were all letters. She +had understood that the deed for which Trendellsohn had desired her to +search was written on a larger paper than any she now saw, and that she +might thus know it at once. There was, certainly, no such deed among +the papers which her father slowly turned over, and which he slowly +proceeded to tie up again with the old tape. "I am sure I saw it the +other day," he said, fingering among the loose papers while Nina looked +on with anxious eyes. Then at last he found the letter from Karil +Zamenoy, and having read it himself, gave it her to read. It was dated +seven or eight years back, at a time when Balatka was only on his way +to ruin--not absolutely ruined, as was the case with him now--and +contained an offer on Zamenoy's part to give safe custody to certain +documents which were named, and among which the deed now sought for +stood first. + +"And has he got all those other papers?" Nina asked. + +"No! he has none of them, unless he has this. There is nothing left but +this one that the Jew wants." + +"And uncle Karil has never given that back?" + +"Never." + +"And it should belong to Stephen Trendellsohn?" + +"Yes, I suppose it should." + +"Who can wonder, then, that they should be anxious and inquire after +it, and make a noise about it? Will not the law make uncle Karil give +it up?" + +"How can the law prove that he has got it? I know nothing about the +law. Put them all back again." Then Nina replaced the papers and locked +the desk. She had, at any rate, been absolutely and entirely successful +in her diplomacy, and would be able to assure Anton Trendellsohn, of +her knowledge, that that which he sought was not in her father's +keeping. + +On the same day she went out to sell her necklace. She waited till +it was nearly dark--till the first dusk of evening had come upon the +street--and then she crossed the bridge and hurried to a jeweller's +shop in the Grosser Ring which she had observed, and at which she knew +such trinkets as hers were customarily purchased. The Grosser Ring +is an open space--such as we call a square--in the oldest part of the +town, and in it stand the Town Hall and the Theinkirche, which may be +regarded as the most special church in Prague, as there for many years +were taught the doctrines of Huss, the great Reformer of Bohemia. +Here, in the Grosser Ring, there was generally a crowd of an evening, +as Nina knew, and she thought that she could go in and out of the +jeweller's shop without observation. She believed that she might be +able to borrow money on her treasure, leaving it as a deposit; and +this, if possible, she would do. There were regular pawnbrokers in the +town, by whom no questions would be made, who, of course, would lend +her money in the ordinary way of their trade; but she believed that +such people would advance to her but a very small portion of the value +of her necklace; and then, if, as would be too probable, she could not +redeem it, the necklace would be gone, and gone without a price! + +"Yes, it is my own, altogether my own--my very own." She had to explain +all the circumstances to the jeweller, and at last, with a view of +quelling any suspicion, she told the jeweler what was her name, and +explained how poor were the circumstances of her house. "But you must +be the niece of Madame Zamenoy, in the Windberg-gasse," said the +jeweller. And then, when Nina with hesitation acknowledged that such +was the case, the man asked her why she did not go to her rich aunt, +instead of selling a trinket which must be so valuable. + +"No!" said Nina, "I cannot do that. If you will lend me something of +its value, I shall be so much obliged to you." + +"But Madame Zamenoy would surely help you?" + +"We would not take it from her. But we will not speak of that, sir. +Can I have the money?" Then the jeweller gave her a receipt for the +necklace and took her receipt for the sum he lent her. It was more than +Nina had expected, and she rejoiced that she had so well completed her +business. Nevertheless she wished that the jeweller had known nothing +of her aunt. She was hardly out of the shop before she met her cousin +Ziska, and she so met him that she could not escape him. She heard his +voice, indeed, almost as soon as she recognised him, and had stopped at +his summons before she had calculated whether it might not be better to +run away. "What, Nina! is that you?" said Ziska, taking her hand before +she knew how to refuse it to him. + +"Yes; it is I," said Nina. + +"What are you doing here?" + +"Why should I not be in the Grosser Ring as well as another? It is open +to rich and poor." + +"So is Rapinsky's shop; but poor people do not generally have much to +do there." Rapinsky was the name of the jeweller who had advanced the +money to Nina. + +"No, not much," said Nina. "What little they have to sell is soon +sold." + +"And have you been selling anything?" + +"Nothing of yours, Ziska." + +"But have you been selling anything?" + +"Why do you ask me? What business is it of yours?" + +"They say that Anton Trendellsohn, the Jew, gives you all that you +want," said Ziska. + +"Then they say lies," said Nina, her eyes flashing fire upon her +Christian lover through the gloom of the evening. "Who says so? You say +so. No one else would be mean enough to be so false." + +"All Prague says so." + +"All Prague! I know what that means. And did all Prague go to the Jews' +quarter last Saturday, to tell Anton Trendellsohn that the paper which +he wants, and which is his own, was in father's keeping? Was it all +Prague told that falsehood also?" There was a scorn in her face as she +spoke which distressed Ziska greatly, but which he did not know how to +meet or how to answer. He wanted to be brave before her; and he wanted +also to show his affection for her, if only he knew how to do so, +without making himself humble in her presence. + +"Shall I tell you, Nina, why I went to the Jews' quarter on Saturday?" + +"No; tell me nothing. I wish to hear nothing from you. I know enough +without your telling me." + +"I wish to save you if it be possible, because--because I love you." + +"And I--I never wish to see you again, because I hate you. I hate you, +because you have been cruel. But let me tell you this; poor as we are, +I have never taken a farthing of Anton's money. When I am his wife, as +I hope to be--as I hope to be--I will take what he gives me as though +it came from heaven. From you!--I would sooner die in the street +than take a crust of bread from you." Then she darted from him, and +succeeded in escaping without hearing the words with which he replied +to her angry taunts. She was woman enough to understand that her +keenest weapon for wounding him would be an expression of unbounded +love and confidence as to the man who was his rival; and therefore, +though she was compelled to deny that she had lived on the charity of +her lover, she had coupled her denial with an assurance of her faith +and affection, which was, no doubt, bitter enough in Ziska's ears. "I +do believe that she is witched," he said, as he turned away towards his +own house. And then he reflected wisely on the backward tendency of the +world in general, and regretted much that there was no longer given to +priests in Bohemia the power of treating with salutary ecclesiastical +severity patients suffering in the way in which his cousin Nina was +afflicted. + +Nina had hardly got out of the Grosser Ring into the narrow street +which leads from thence towards the bridge, when she encountered her +other lover. He was walking slowly down the centre of the street when +she passed him, or would have passed him, had not she recognized his +figure through the gloom. "Anton," she said, coming up to him and +touching his arm as lightly as was possible. "I am so glad to meet +you here." + +"Nina?" + +"Yes; Nina." + +"And what have you been doing?" + +"I don't know that I want to tell you; only that I like to tell you +everything." + +"If so, you can tell me this." Nina, however, hesitated. "If you have +secrets, I do not want to inquire into them," said the Jew. + +"I would rather have no secrets from you, only--" + +"Only what?" + +"Well; I will tell you. I had a necklace; and we are not very rich, you +know, at home; and I wanted to get something for father, and--" + +"You have sold it?" + +"No; I have not sold it. The man was very civil, indeed quite kind, and +he lent me some money." + +"But the kind man kept the necklace, I suppose." + +"Of course he kept the necklace. You would not have me borrow money +from a stranger, and leave him nothing?" + +"No; I would not have you do that. But why not borrow from one who is +no stranger?" + +"I do not want to borrow at all," said Nina, in her lowest tone. + +"Are you ashamed to come to me in your trouble?" + +"Yes," said Nina. "I should be ashamed to come to you for money. I +would not take it from you." + +He did not answer her at once, but walked on slowly while she kept +close to his side. + +"Give me the jeweller's docket," he said at last. Nina hesitated for a +moment, and then he repeated his demand in a sterner voice. "Nina, give +me the jeweller's docket." Then she put her hand in her pocket and gave +it him. She was very averse to doing so, but she was more averse to +refusing him aught that he asked of her. + +"I have got something to tell you, Anton," she said, as soon as he had +put the jeweller's paper into his purse. + +"Well--what is it?" + +"I have seen every paper and every morsel of everything that is in +father's desk, and there is no sign of the deed you want." + +"And how did you see them?" + +"He showed them to me." + +"You told him, then, what I had said to you?" + +"No; I told him nothing about it. He gave me the key, and desired me to +fetch him all the papers. He wanted to find a letter which uncle Karil +wrote him ever so long ago. In that letter uncle Karil acknowledges +that he has the deed." + +"I do not doubt that in the least." + +"And what is it you do doubt, Anton?" + +"I do not say I doubt anything." + +"Do you doubt me, Anton?" + +There was a little pause before he answered her--the slightest moment +of hesitation. But had it been but half as much, Nina's ear and Nina's +heart would have detected it. "No," said Anton, "I am not saying that I +doubt any one." + +"If you doubt me, you will kill me. I am at any rate true to you. What +is it you want? What is it you think?" + +"They tell me that the document is in the house in the Kleinseite." + +"Who are they? Who is it that tells you?" + +"More than one. Your uncle and aunt said so--and Ziska Zamenoy came to +me on purpose to repeat the same." + +"And would you believe what Ziska says? I have hardly thought it worth +my while to tell you that Ziska--" + +"To tell me what of Ziska?" + +"That Ziska pretends to--to want that I should be his wife. I would not +look at him if there were not another man in Prague. I hate him. He is +a liar. Would you believe Ziska?" + +"And another has told me." + +"Another?" said Nina, considering. + +"Yes, another." + +"Lotta Luxa, I suppose." + +"Never mind. They say indeed that it is you who have the deed." + +"And you believe them?" + +"No, I do not believe them. But why do they say so?" + +"Must I explain that? How can I tell? Anton, do you not believe that +the woman who loves you will be true to you?" + +Then he paused again--"Nina, sometimes I think that I have been mad to +love a Christian." + +"What have I been then? But I do love you, Anton--I love you better +than all the world. I care nothing for Jew or Christian. When I think +of you, I care nothing for heaven or earth. You are everything to me, +because I love you. How could I deceive you?" + +"Nina, Nina, my own one!" he said. + +"And as I love you, so do you love me? Say that you love me also." + +"I do," said he--"I love you as I love my own soul." + +Then they parted; and Nina, as she went home, tried to make herself +happy with the assurance which had been given to her by the last words +her lover had spoken; but still there remained with her that suspicion +of a doubt which, if it really existed, would be so cruel an injury to +her love. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Some days passed on after the visit to the jeweller's shop--perhaps ten +or twelve--before Nina heard from or saw her lover again; and during +that time she had no tidings from her relatives in the Windberg-gasse. +Life went on very quietly in the old house, and not the less quietly +because the proceeds of the necklace saved Nina from any further +immediate necessity of searching for money. The cold weather had come, +or rather weather that was cold in the morning and cold in the evening, +and old Balatka kept his bed altogether. His state was such that no one +could say why he should not get up and dress himself, and he himself +continued to speak of some future time when he would do so; but there +he was, lying in his bed, and Nina told herself that in all probability +she would never see him about the house again. For herself, she was +becoming painfully anxious that some day should be fixed for her +marriage. She knew that she was, herself, ignorant in such matters; +and she knew also that there was no woman near her from whom she could +seek counsel. Were she to go to some matron of the neighbourhood, her +neighbour would only rebuke her, because she loved a Jew. She had +boldly told her relatives of her love, and by doing so had shut herself +out from all assistance from them. From even her father she could get +no sympathy; though with him her engagement had become so far a thing +sanctioned, that he had ceased to speak of it in words of reproach. +But when was it to be? She had more than once made up her mind that +she would ask her lover, but her courage had never as yet mounted high +enough in his presence to allow her to do so. When he was with her, +their conversation always took such a turn that before she left him she +was happy enough if she could only draw from him an assurance that he +was not forgetting to love her. Of any final time for her marriage he +never said a word. In the mean time she and her father might starve! +They could not live on the price of a necklace for ever. She had not +made up her mind--she never could make up her mind--as to what might be +best for her father when she should be married; but she had made up her +mind that when that happy time should come, she would simply obey her +husband. He would tell her what would be best for her father. But in +the mean time there was no word of her marriage; and now she had been +ten days in the Kleinseite without once having had so much as a message +from her lover. How was it possible that she should continue to live in +such a condition as this? + +She was sitting one morning very forlorn in the big parlour, looking +out upon the birds who were pecking among the dust in the courtyard +below, when her eye just caught the drapery of the dress of some woman +who had entered the arched gateway. Nina, from her place by the window, +could see out through the arch, and no one therefore could come through +their gate while she was at her seat without passing under her eye; but +on this occasion the birds had distracted her attention, and she had +not caught a sight of the woman's face or figure. Could it be her aunt +come to torture her again--her and her father? She knew that Souchey +was down-stairs, hanging somewhere in idleness about the door, and +therefore she did not leave her place. If it were indeed her aunt, her +aunt might come up there to seek her. Or it might possibly be Lotta +Luxa, who, next to her aunt, was of all women the most disagreeable to +Nina. Lotta, indeed, was not so hard to bear as aunt Sophie, because +Lotta could be answered sharply, and could be told to go, if matters +proceeded to extremities. In such a case Lotta no doubt would not +go; but still the power of desiring her to do so was much. Then Nina +remembered that Lotta never wore her petticoats so full as was the +morsel of drapery which she had seen. And as she thought of this +there came a low knock at the door. Nina, without rising, desired the +stranger to come in. Then the door was gently opened, and Rebecca Loth +the Jewess stood before her. Nina had seen Rebecca, but had never +spoken to her. Each girl had heard much of the other from their younger +friend Ruth Jacobi. Ruth was very intimate with them both, and Nina had +been willing enough to be told of Rebecca, as had Rebecca also to be +told of Nina. "Grandfather wants Anton to marry Rebecca," Ruth had said +more than once; and thus Nina knew well that Rebecca was her rival. "I +think he loves her better than his own eyes," Ruth had said to Rebecca, +speaking of her uncle and Nina. Rut Rebecca had heard from a thousand +sources of information that he who was to have been her lover had +forgotten his own people and his own religion, and had given himself +to a Christian girl. Each, therefore, now knew that she looked upon an +enemy and a rival; but each was anxious to be very courteous to her +enemy. + +Nina rose from her chair directly she saw her visitor, and came forward +to meet her. "I suppose you hardly know who I am, Fraeulein?" said +Rebecca. + +"Oh, yes," said Nina, with her pleasantest smile; "you are Rebecca +Loth." + +"Yes, I am Rebecca Loth, the Jewess." + +"I like the Jews," said Nina. + +Rebecca was not dressed now as she had been dressed on that gala +occasion when we saw her in the Jews' quarter. Then she had been as +smart as white muslin and bright ribbons and velvet could make her. Now +she was clad almost entirely in black, and over her shoulders she wore +a dark shawl, drawn closely round her neck. But she had on her head, +now as then, that peculiar Hungarian hat which looks almost like a +coronet in front, and gives an aspect to the girl who wears it half +defiant and half attractive; and there were there, of course, the long, +glossy, black curls, and the dark-blue eyes, and the turn of the face, +which was so completely Jewish in its hard, bold, almost repellant +beauty. Nina had said that she liked the Jews, but when the words were +spoken she remembered that they might be open to misconstruction, and +she blushed. The same idea occurred to Rebecca, but she scorned to take +advantage of even a successful rival on such a point as that. She would +not twit Nina by any hint that this assumed liking for the Jews was +simply a special predilection for one Jew in particular. "We are not +ungrateful to you for coming among us and knowing us," said Rebecca. +Then there was a slight pause, for Nina hardly knew what to say to +her visitor. But Rebecca continued to speak. "We hear that in other +countries the prejudice against us is dying away, and that Christians +stay with Jews in their houses, and Jews with Christians, eating with +them, and drinking with them. I fear it will never be so in Prague." + +"And why not in Prague? I hope it may. Why should we not do in Prague +as they do elsewhere?" + +"Ah, the feeling is so firmly settled here. We have our own quarter, +and live altogether apart. A Christian here will hardly walk with a +Jew, unless it be from counter to counter, or from bank to bank. As for +their living together--or even eating in the same room--do you ever see +it?" + +Nina of course understood the meaning of this. That which the girl said +to her was intended to prove to her how impossible it was that she +should marry a Jew, and live in Prague with a Jew as his wife; but she, +who stood her ground before aunt Sophie, who had never flinched for a +moment before all the threats which could be showered upon her from +the Christian side, was not going to quail before the opposition of a +Jewess, and that Jewess a rival! + +"I do not know why we should not live to see it," said Nina. + +"It must take long first--very long," said Rebecca. "Even now, +Fraeulein, I fear you will think that I am very intrusive in coming to +you. I know that a Jewess has no right to push her acquaintance upon a +Christian girl." The Jewess spoke very humbly of herself and of her +people; but in every word she uttered there was a slight touch of irony +which was not lost upon Nina. Nina could not but bethink herself that +she was poor--so poor that everything around her, on her, and about +her, told of poverty; while Rebecca was very rich, and showed her +wealth even in the sombre garments which she had chosen for her morning +visit. No idea of Nina's poverty had crossed Rebecca's mind, but Nina +herself could not but remember it when she felt the sarcasm implied in +her visitor's self-humiliation. + +"I am glad that you have come to me--very glad indeed, if you have come +in friendship." Then she blushed as she continued, "To me, situated as +I am, the friendship of a Jewish maiden would be a treasure indeed." + +"You intend to speak of--" + +"I speak of my engagement with Anton Trendellsohn. I do so with you +because I know that you have heard of it. You tell me that Jews and +Christians cannot come together in Prague, but I mean to marry a Jew. A +Jew is my lover. If you will say that you will be my friend, I will +love you indeed. Ruth Jacobi is my friend; but then Ruth is so young." + +"Yes, Ruth is very young. She is a child. She knows nothing." + +"A child's friendship is better than none." + +"Ruth is very young. She cannot understand. I too love Ruth Jacobi. I +have known her since she was born. I knew and loved her mother. You do +not remember Ruth Trendellsohn. No; your acquaintance with them is only +of the other day." + +"Ruth's mother has been dead seven years," said Nina. + +"And what are seven years? I have known them for four-and-twenty." + +"Nay; that cannot be." + +"But I have. That is my age, and I was born, so to say, in their arms. +Ruth Trendellsohn was ten years older than I--only ten." + +"And Anton?" + +"Anton was a year older than his sister; but you know Anton's age. Has +he never told you his age?" + +"I never asked him; but I know it. There are things one knows as a +matter of course. I remember his birthday always." + +"It has been a short always." + +"No, not so short. Two years is not a short time to know a friend." + +"But he has not been betrothed to you for two years?" + +"No; not betrothed to me." + +"Nor has he loved you so long; nor you him?" + +"For him, I can only speak of the time when he first told me so." + +"And that was but the other day--but the other day, as I count the +time." To this Nina made no answer. She could not claim to have known +her lover from so early a date as Rebecca Loth had done, who had been, +as she said, born in the arms of his family. But what of that? Men +do not always love best those women whom they have known the longest. +Anton Trendellsohn had known her long enough to find that he loved her +best. Why then should this Jewish girl come to her and throw in her +teeth the shortness of her intimacy with the man who was to be her +husband? If she, Nina, had also been a Jewess, Rebecca Loth would not +then have spoken in such a way. As she thought of this she turned her +face away from the stranger, and looked out among the sparrows who were +still pecking among the dust in the court. She had told Rebecca at the +beginning of their interview that she would be delighted to find a +friend in a Jewess, but now she felt sorry that the girl had come to +her. For Anton's sake she would bear with much from one whom he had +known so long. But for that thought she would have answered her visitor +with short courtesy. As it was, she sat silent and looked out upon the +birds. + +"I have come to you now," said Rebecca Loth, "to say a few words to you +about Anton Trendellsohn. I hope you will not refuse to listen." + +"That will depend on what you say." + +"Do you think it will be for his good to marry a Christian?" + +"I shall leave him to judge of that," replied Nina, sharply. + +"It cannot be that you do not think of it. I am sure you would not +willingly do an injury to the man you love." + +"I would die for him, if that would serve him." + +"You can serve him without dying. If he takes you for his wife, all his +people will turn against him. His own father will become his enemy." + +"How can that be? His father knows of it, and yet he is not my enemy." + +"It is as I tell you. His father will disinherit him. Every Jew in +Prague will turn his back upon him. He knows it now. Anton knows it +himself, but he cannot be the first to say the word that shall put an +end to your engagement." + +"Jews have married Christians in Prague before now," said Nina, +pleading her own cause with all the strength she had. + +"But not such a one as Anton Trendellsohn. An unconsidered man may do +that which is not permitted to those who are more in note." + +"There is no law against it now." + +"That is true. There is no law. But there are habits stronger than law. +In your own case, do you not know that all the friends you have in the +world will turn their backs upon you? And so it would be with him. You +two would be alone--neither as Jews nor as Christians--with none to aid +you, with no friend to love you." + +"For myself I care nothing," said Nina. "They may say, if they like, +that I am no Christian." + +"But how will it be with him? Can you ever be happy if you have been +the cause of ruin to your husband?" + +Nina was again silent for a while, sitting with her face turned +altogether away from the Jewess. Then she rose suddenly from her +chair, and, facing round almost fiercely upon the other girl, asked +a question, which came from the fulness of her heart, "And you--you +yourself, what is it that you intend to do? Do you wish to marry him?" + +"I do," said Rebecca, bearing Nina's gaze without dropping her own eyes +for a moment. "I do. I do wish to be the wife of Anton Trendellsohn." + +"Then you shall never have your wish--never. He loves me, and me only. +Ask him, and he will tell you so." + +"I have asked him, and he has told me so." There was something so +serious, so sad, and so determined in the manner of the young Jewess, +that it almost cowed Nina--almost drove her to yield before her +visitor. "If he has told you so," she said--then she stopped, not +wishing to triumph over her rival. + +"He has told me so; but I knew it without his telling. We all know it. +I have not come here to deceive you, or to create false suspicions. He +does love you. He cares nothing for me, and he does love you. But is he +therefore to be ruined? Which had he better lose? All that he has in +the world, or the girl that has taken his fancy?" + +"I would sooner lose the world twice over than lose him." + +"Yes; but you are only a woman. Think of his position. There is not a +Jew in all Prague respected among us as he is respected. He knows more, +can do more, has more of wit and cleverness, than any of us. We look to +him to win for the Jews in Prague something of the freedom which Jews +have elsewhere--in Paris and in London. If he takes a Christian for his +wife, all this will be destroyed." + +"But all will be well if he were to marry you!" + +Now it was Rebecca's turn to pause; but it was not for long. "I love +him dearly," she said; "with a love as warm as yours." + +"And therefore I am to be untrue to him," said Nina, again seating +herself. + +"And were I to become his wife," continued Rebecca, not regarding the +interruption, "it would be well with him in a worldly point of view. +All our people would be glad, because there has been friendship between +the families from of old. His father would be pleased, and he would +become rich; and I also am not without some wealth of my own." + +"While I am poor," said Nina; "so poor that--look here, I can only mend +my rags. There, look at my shoes. I have not another pair to my feet. +But if he likes me, poor and ragged, better than he likes you, rich--" +She got so far, raising her voice as she spoke; but she could get no +farther, for her sobs stopped her voice. + +But while she was struggling to speak, the other girl rose and knelt at +Nina's feet, putting her long tapering fingers upon Nina's thread-bare +arms, so that her forehead was almost close to Nina's lips. "He does," +said Rebecca. "It is true--quite true. He loves you, poor as you are, +ten times--a hundred times--better than he loves me, who am not poor. +You have won it altogether by yourself, with nothing of outside art to +back you. You have your triumph. Will not that be enough for a life's +contentment?" + +"No--no, no," said Nina. "No, it will not be enough." But her voice +now was not altogether sorrowful. There was in it something of a wild +joy which had come to her heart from the generous admission which the +Jewess made. She did triumph as she remembered that she had conquered +with no other weapons than those which nature had given her. + +"It is more of contentment than I shall ever have," said Rebecca. +"Listen to me. If you will say to me that you will release him from +his promise, I will swear to you by the God whom we both worship, that +I will never become his wife--that he shall never touch me or speak to +me in love." She had risen before she made this proposal, and now stood +before Nina with one hand raised, with her blue eyes fixed upon Nina's +face, and a solemnity in her manner which for a while startled Nina +into silence. "You will believe my word, I am sure," said Rebecca. + +"Yes, I would believe you," said Nina. + +"Shall it be a bargain between us? Say so, and whatever is mine shall +be mine and yours too. Though a Jew may not make a Christian his wife, +a Jewish girl may love a Christian maiden; and then, Nina, we shall +both know that we have done our very best for him whom we both love +better than all the world beside." + +Nina was again silent, considering the proposition that had been made +to her. There was one thing that she did not see; one point of view +in which the matter had not been presented to her. The cause for her +sacrifice had been made plain to her, but why was the sacrifice of the +other also to become necessary? By not yielding she might be able to +keep her lover to herself; but if she were to be induced to abandon him +--for his sake, so that he might not be ruined by his love for her-- +why, in that case, should he not take the other girl for his wife? In +such a case Nina told herself that there would be no world left for +her. There would be nothing left for her beyond the accomplishment of +Lotta Luxa's prophecy. But yet, though she thought of this, though in +her misery she half resolved that she would give up Anton, and not +exact from Rebecca the oath which the Jewess had tendered, still, in +spite of that feeling, the dread of a rival's success helped to make +her feel that she could never bring herself to yield. + +"Shall it be as I say?" said Rebecca; "and shall we, dear, be friends +while we live?" + +"No," said Nina, suddenly. + +"You cannot bring yourself to do so much for the man you love?" + +"No, I cannot. Could you throw yourself from the bridge into the +Moldau, and drown yourself?" + +"Yes," said Rebecca, "I could. If it would serve him, I think that I +could do so." + +"What! in the dark, when it is so cold? The people would see you in the +daytime." + +"But I would live, that I might hear of his doings, and see his +success." + +"Ah! I could not live without feeling that he loved me." + +"But what will you think of his love when it has ruined him? Will it be +pleasant then? Were I to do that, then--then I should bethink myself of +the cold river and the dark night, and the eyes of the passers-by whom +I should be afraid to meet in the daytime. I ask you to be as I am. Who +is there that pities me? Think again, Nina. I know you would wish that +he should be prosperous." + +Nina did think again, and thought long. And she wept, and the Jewess +comforted her, and many words were said between them beyond those which +have been here set down; but, in the end, Nina could not bring herself +to say that she would give him up. For his sake had she not given up +her uncle and her aunt, and St John and St Nicholas--and the very +Virgin herself, whose picture she had now removed from the wall +beside her bed to a dark drawer? How could she give up that which was +everything she had in the world--the very life of her bosom? "I will +ask him--him himself," she said at last, hoarsely. "I will ask him, and +do as he bids me. I cannot do anything unless it is as he bids me." + +"In this matter you must act on your own judgment, Nina." + +"No, I will not. I have no judgment. He must judge for me in +everything. If he says it is better that we should part, then--then-- +then I will let him go." + +After this Rebecca left the room and the house. Before she went, she +kissed the Christian girl; but Nina did not remember that she had been +kissed. Her mind was so full, not of thought, but of the suggestion +that had been made to her, that it could now take no impression from +anything else. She had been recommended to do a thing as her duty--as +a paramount duty towards him who was everything to her--the doing of +which it would be impossible that she should survive. So she told +herself when she was once more alone, and had again seated herself in +the chair by the window. She did not for a moment accuse Rebecca of +dealing unfairly with her. It never occurred to her as possible that +the Jewess had come to her with false views of her own fabrication. +Had she so believed, her suspicions would have done great injustice to +her rival; but no such idea presented itself to Nina's mind. All that +Rebecca had said to her had come to her as though it were gospel. She +did believe that Trendellsohn, as a Jew, would injure himself greatly +by marrying a Christian. She did believe that the Jews of Prague would +treat him somewhat as the Christians would treat herself. For herself +such treatment would be nothing, if she were but once married; but she +could understand that to him it would be ruinous. And Nina believed +also that Rebecca had been entirely disinterested in her mission--that +she came thither, not to gain a lover for herself, but to save from +injury the man she loved, without reference to her own passion. Nina +knew that Rebecca was strong and good, and acknowledged also that she +herself was weak and selfish. She thought that she ought to have been +persuaded to make the sacrifice, and once or twice she almost resolved +that she would follow Rebecca to the Jews' quarter and tell her that it +should be made. But she could not do it. Were she to do so, what would +be left to her? With him she could bear anything, everything. To starve +would hardly be bitter to her, so that his arm could be round her +waist, and that her head could be on his shoulder. And, moreover, was +she not his to do with as he pleased? After all her promises to him, +how could she take upon herself to dispose of herself otherwise than as +he might direct? + +But then some thought of the missing document came back upon her, and +she remembered in her grief that he suspected her--that even now he +had some frightful doubt as to her truth to him--her faith, which was, +alas, alas! more firm and bright towards him than towards that heavenly +Friend whose aid would certainly suffice to bring her through all her +troubles, if only she could bring herself to trust as she asked it. But +she could trust only in him, and he doubted her! Would it not be better +to do as Rebecca said, and make the most of such contentment as might +come to her from her triumph over herself? That would be better--ten +times better than to be abandoned by him--to be deserted by her Jew +lover, because the Jew would not trust her, a Christian! On either side +there could be nothing for her but death; but there is a choice even of +deaths. If she did the thing herself, she thought that there might be +something sweet even in the sadness of her last hour--something of the +flavour of sacrifice. But should it be done by him, in that way there +lay nothing but the madness of desolation! It was her last resolve, as +she still sat at the window counting the sparrows in the yard, that she +would tell him everything, and leave it to him to decide. If he would +say that it was better for them to part, then he might go; and Rebecca +Loth might become his wife, if he so wished it. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +On one of these days old Trendellsohn went to the office of Karil +Zamenoy, in the Ross Markt, with the full determination of learning in +truth what there might be to be learned as to that deed which would be +so necessary to him, or to those who would come after him, when Josef +Balatka might die. He accused himself of having been foolishly soft- +hearted in his transactions with this Christian, and reminded himself +from time to time that no Jew in Prague would have been so treated by +any Christian. And what was the return made to him? Among them they had +now secreted that of which he should have enforced the rendering before +he had parted with his own money; and this they did because they knew +that he would be unwilling to take harsh legal proceedings against a +bed-ridden old man! In this frame of mind he went to the Ross Markt, +and there he was assured over and over again by Ziska Zamenoy--for +Karil Zamenoy was not to be seen--that Nina Balatka had the deed in her +own keeping. The name of Nina Balatka was becoming very grievous to the +old man. Even he, when the matter had first been broached to him, had +not recognised all the evils which would come from a marriage between +his son and a Christian maiden; but of late his neighbours had been +around him, and he had looked into the thing, and his eyes had been +opened, and he had declared to himself that he would not take a +Christian girl into his house as his daughter-in-law. He could not +prevent the marriage. The law would be on his son's side. The law of +the Christian kingdom in which he lived allowed such marriages, and +Anton, if he executed the contract which would make the marriage valid, +would in truth be the girl's husband. But--and Trendellsohn, as he +remembered the power which was still in his hands, almost regretted +that he held it--if this thing were done, his son must go out from his +house, and be his son no longer. + +The old man was very proud of his son. Rebecca had said truly that no +Jew in Prague was so respected among Jews as Anton Trendellsohn. She +might have added, also, that none was more highly esteemed among +Christians. To lose such a son would be a loss indeed. "I will share +everything with him, and he shall go away out of Bohemia," Trendellsohn +had said to himself. "He has earned it, and he shall have it. He has +worked for me--for us both--without asking me, his father, to bind +myself with any bond. He shall have the wealth which is his own, but he +shall not have it here. Ah! if he would but take that other one as his +bride, he should have everything, and his father's blessing--and then +he would be the first instead of the last among his people." Such was +the purpose of Stephen Trendellsohn towards his son; but this, his real +purpose, did not hinder him from threatening worse things. To prevent +the marriage was his great object; and if threats would prevent it, why +should he not use them? + +But now he had conceived the idea that Nina was deceiving his son--that +Nina was in truth holding back the deed with some view which he could +hardly fathom. Ziska Zamenoy had declared, with all the emphasis in +his power, that the document was, to the best of his belief, in Nina's +hands; and though Ziska's emphasis would not have gone far in +convincing the Jew, had the Jew's mind been turned in the other +direction, now it had its effect. "And who gave it her?" Trendellsohn +had asked. "Ah, there you must excuse me," Ziska had answered; "though, +indeed, I could not tell you if I would. But we have nothing to do with +the matter. We have no claim upon the houses. It is between you and the +Balatkas." Then the Jew had left the Zamenoys' office, and had gone +home, fully believing that the deed was in Nina's hands. + +"Yes, it is so--she is deceiving you," he said to his son that evening. + +"No father. I think not." + +"Very well. You will find, when it is too late, that my words are true. +Have you ever known a Christian who thought it wrong to rob a Jew?" + +"I do not believe that Nina would rob me." + +"Ah! that is the confidence of what you call love. She is honest, you +think, because she has a pretty face." + +"She is honest, I think, because she loves me." + +"Bah! Does love make men honest, or women either? Do we not see every +day how these Christians rob each other in their money dealings when +they are marrying? What was the girl's name?--old Thibolski's daughter +--how they robbed her when they married her, and how her people tried +their best to rob the lad she married. Did we not see it all?" + +"It was not the girl who did it--not the girl herself." + +"Why should a woman be honester than a man? I tell you, Anton, that +this girl has the deed." + +"Ziska Zamenoy has told you so?" + +"Yes, he has told me. But I am not a man to be deceived because such a +one as Ziska wishes to deceive me. You, at least, know me better than +that. That which I tell you, Ziska himself believes." + +"But Ziska may believe wrongly." + +"Why should he do so? Whose interest can it be to make this thing seem +so, if it be not so? If the girl have the deed, you can get it more +readily from her than from the Zamenoys. Believe me, Anton, the deed is +with the girl." + +"If it be so, I shall never believe again in the truth of a human +being," said the son. + +"Believe in the truth of your own people," said the father. "Why should +you seek to be wiser than them all?" + +The father did not convince the son, but the words which he had spoken +helped to create a doubt which already had almost an existence of its +own. Anton Trendellsohn was prone to suspicions, and now was beginning +to suspect Nina, although he strove hard to keep his mind free from +such taint. His better nature told him that it was impossible that she +should deceive him. He had read the very inside of her heart, and knew +that her only delight was in his love. He understood perfectly the +weakness and faith and beauty of her feminine nature, and her trusting, +leaning softness was to his harder spirit as water to a thirsting +man in the desert. When she clung to him, promising to obey him in +everything, the touch of her hands, and the sound of her voice, and the +beseeching glance of her loving eyes, were food and drink to him. He +knew that her presence refreshed him and cooled him--made him young +as he was growing old, and filled his mind with sweet thoughts which +hardly came to him but when she was with him. He had told himself over +and over again that it must be good for him to have such a one for his +wife, whether she were Jew or Christian. He knew himself to be a better +man when she was with him than at other moments of his life. And then +he loved her. He was thinking of her hourly, though his impatience to +see her was not as hers to be with him. He loved her. But yet--yet-- +what if she should be deceiving him? To be able to deceive others, but +never to be deceived himself, was to him, unconsciously, the glory +which he desired. To be deceived was to be disgraced. What was all his +wit and acknowledged cunning if a girl--a Christian girl--could outwit +him? For himself, he could see clearly enough into things to be +aware that, as a rule, he could do better by truth than he could by +falsehood. He was not prone to deceive others. But in such matters he +desired ever to have the power with him to keep, as it were, the upper +hand. He would fain read the hearts of others entirely, and know their +wishes, and understand their schemes, whereas his own heart and his own +desires and his own schemes should only be legible in part. What if, +after all, he were unable to read the simple tablets of this girl's +mind--tablets which he had regarded as being altogether in his own +keeping? + +He went forth for a while, walking slowly through the streets, as he +thought of this, wandering without an object, but turning over in his +mind his father's words. He knew that his father was anxious to prevent +his marriage. He knew that every Jew around him--for now the Jews +around him had all heard of it--was keenly anxious to prevent so great +a disgrace. He knew all that his father had threatened, and he was well +aware how complete was his father's power. But he could stand against +all that, if only Nina were true to him. He would go away from Prague. +What did it matter? Prague was not all the world. There were cities +better, nobler, richer than Prague, in which his brethren, the Jews, +would not turn their backs upon him because he had married a Christian. +It might be that he would have to begin the world again; but for that, +too, he would be prepared. Nina had shown that she could bear poverty. +Nina's torn boots and threadbare dress, and the utter absence of any +request ever made with regard to her own comfort, had not been lost +upon him. He knew how noble she was in bearing--how doubly noble she +was in never asking. If only there was nothing of deceit at the back to +mar it all! + +He passed over the bridge, hardly knowing whither he was going, and +turned directly down towards Balatka's house. As he did so he observed +that certain repairs were needed in an adjoining building which +belonged to his father, and determined that a mason should be sent +there on the next day. Then he turned in under the archway, not passing +through it into the court, and there he stood looking up at the window, +in which Nina's small solitary lamp was twinkling. He knew that she was +sitting by the light, and that she was working. He knew that she would +be raised almost to a seventh heaven of delight if he would only call +her to the door and speak to her a dozen words before he returned to +his home. But he had no thought of doing it. Was it possible that she +should have this document in her keeping?--that was the thought that +filled his mind. He had bribed Lotta Luxa, and Lotta had sworn by her +Christian gods that the deed was in Nina's hands. If the thing was +false, why should they all conspire to tell the same falsehood? And yet +he knew that they were false in their natures. Their manner, the words +of each of them, betrayed something of falsehood to his well-tuned +ear, to his acute eye, to his sharp senses. But with Nina--from Nina +herself--everything that came from her spoke of truth. A sweet savour +of honesty hung about her breath, and was a blessing to him when he +was near enough to her to feel it. And yet he told himself that he was +bound to doubt. He stood for some half-hour in the archway, leaning +against the stonework at the side, and looking up at the window where +Nina was sitting. What was he to do? How should he carry himself in +this special period of his life? Great ideas about the destiny of his +people were mingled in his mind with suspicions as to Nina, of which he +should have been, and probably was, ashamed. He would certainly take +her away from Prague. He had already perceived that his marriage with a +Christian would be regarded in that stronghold of prejudice in which +he lived with so much animosity as to impede, and perhaps destroy, the +utility of his career. He would go away, taking Nina with him. And he +would be careful that she should never know, by a word or a look, that +he had in any way suffered for her sake. And he swore to himself that +he would be soft to her, and gentle, loving her with a love more +demonstrative than he had hitherto exhibited. He knew that he had been +stern, exacting, and sometimes harsh. All that should be mended. He had +learned her character, and perceived how absolutely she fed upon his +love; and he would take care that the food should always be there, +palpably there, for her sustenance. But--but he must try her yet once +more before all this could be done for her. She must pass yet once +again through the fire; and if then she should come forth as gold, she +should be to him the one pure ingot which the earth contained. With how +great a love would he not repay her in future days for all that she +would have suffered for his sake? + +But she must be made to go through the fire again. He would tax her +with the possession of the missing deed, and call upon her to cleanse +herself from the accusation which was made against her. Once again he +would be harsh with her--harsh in appearance only--in order that his +subsequent tenderness might be so much more tender! She had already +borne much, and she must be made to endure once again. Did not he mean +to endure much for her sake? Was he not prepared to recommence the +troubles and toil of his life all from the beginning, in order that +she might be that life's companion? Surely he had the right to put her +through the fire, and prove her as never gold was proved before. + +At last the little light was quenched, and Anton Trendellsohn felt +that he was alone. The unseen companion of his thoughts was no longer +with him, and it was useless for him to remain there standing in the +archway. He blew her a kiss from his lips, and blessed her in his +heart, and protested to himself that he knew she would come out of the +fire pure altogether and proved to be without dross. And then he went +his way. In the mean time Nina, chill and wretched, crept to her cold +bed, all unconscious of the happiness that had been so near her. "If he +thinks I can be false to him, it will be better to die," she said to +herself, as she drew the scanty clothing over her shivering shoulders. + +As she did so her lover walked home, and having come to a resolution +which was intended to be definite as to his love, he allowed his +thoughts to run away with him to other subjects. After all, it would +be no evil to him to leave Prague. At Prague how little was there of +progress either in thought or in things material! At Prague a Jew could +earn money, and become rich--might own half the city; and yet at Prague +he could only live as an outcast. As regarded the laws of the land, he, +as a Jew, might fix his residence anywhere in Prague or around Prague; +he might have gardens, and lands, and all the results of money; he +might put his wife into a carriage twice as splendid as that which +constituted the great social triumph of Madame Zamenoy--but so strong +against such a mode of life were the traditional prejudices of +both Jews and Christians, that any such fashion of living would be +absolutely impossible to him. It would not be good for him that he +should remain at Prague. Knowing his father as he did, he could not +believe that the old man would be so unjust as to let him go altogether +empty-handed. He had toiled, and had been successful; and something of +the corn which he had garnered would surely be rendered to him. With +this--or, if need be, without it--he and his Christian wife would go +forth and see if the world was not wide enough to find them a spot on +which they might live without the contempt of those around them. + +Though Nina had quenched her lamp and had gone to bed, it was not late +when Trendellsohn reached his home, and he knew that he should find his +father waiting for him. But his father was not alone. Rebecca Loth was +sitting with the old man, and they had just supped together when Anton +entered the room. Ruth Jacobi was also there, waiting till her friend +should go, before she also went to her bed. + +"How are you, Anton?" said Rebecca, giving her hand to the man she +loved. "It is strange to see you in these days." + +"The strangeness, Rebecca, comes from no fault of my own. Few men, I +fancy, are more constant to their homes than I am." + +"You sleep here and eat here, I daresay." + +"My business lies mostly out, about the town." + +"Have you been about business now, uncle Anton?" said Ruth. + +"Do not ask forward questions, Ruth," said the uncle. "Rebecca, I fear, +teaches you to forget that you are still a child." + +"Do not scold her," said the old man. "She is a good girl." + +"It is Anton that forgets that nature is making Ruth a young woman," +said Rebecca. + +"I do not want to be a young woman a bit before uncle Anton likes it," +said Ruth. "I don't mind waiting ever so long for him. When he is +married he will not care what I am." + +"If that be so, you may be a woman very soon," said Rebecca. + +"That is more than you know," said Anton, turning very sharply on her. +"What do you know of my marriage, or when it will be?" + +"Are you scolding her too?" said the elder Trendellsohn. + +"Nay, father; let him do so," said Rebecca. "He has known me long +enough to scold me if he thinks that I deserve it. You are gentle to me +and spoil me, and it is only well that one among my old friends should +be sincere enough to be ungentle." + +"I beg your pardon, Rebecca, if I have been uncourteous." + +"There can be no pardon where there is no offence." + +"If you are ashamed to hear of your marriage," said the father, "you +should be ashamed to think of it." + +Then there was silence for a few seconds before anyone spoke. The girls +did not dare to speak after words so serious from the father to the +son. It was known to both of them that Anton could hardly bring himself +to bear a rebuke even from his father, and they felt that such a rebuke +as this, given in their presence, would be altogether unendurable. +Every one in the room understood the exact position in which each +stood to the other. That Rebecca would willingly have become Anton's +wife, that she had refused various offers of marriage in order that +ultimately it might be so, was known to Stephen Trendellsohn, and to +Anton himself, and to Ruth Jacobi. There had not been the pretence of +any secret among them in the matter. But the subject was one which +could hardly be discussed by them openly. "Father," said Anton, after a +while, during which the black thunder-cloud which had for an instant +settled on his brow had managed to dispel itself without bursting into +a visible storm--"father, I am neither ashamed to think of my intended +marriage nor to speak of it. There is no question of shame. But it is +unpleasant to make such a subject matter of general conversation when +it is a source of trouble instead of joy among us. I wish I could have +made you happy by my marriage." + +"You will make me very wretched." + +"Then let us not talk about it. It cannot be altered. You would not +have me false to my plighted word?" + +Again there was silence for some minutes, and then Rebecca spoke--the +words coming from her in the lowest possible accents. + +"It can be altered without breach of your plighted word. Ask the young +woman what she herself thinks. You will find that she knows that you +are both wrong." + +"Of course she knows it," said the father. + +"I will ask her nothing of the kind," said the son. + +"It would be of no use," said Ruth. + +After this Rebecca rose to take her leave, saying something of the +falseness of her brother Samuel, who had promised to come for her and +to take her home. "But he is with Miriam Harter," said Rebecca, "and, +of course, he will forget me." + +"I will go home with you," said Anton. + +"Indeed you shall not. Do you think I cannot walk alone through our own +streets in the dark without being afraid?" + +"I am well aware that you are afraid of nothing; but nevertheless, if +you will allow me, I will accompany you." There was no sufficient cause +for her to refuse his company, and the two left the house together. + +As they descended the stairs, Rebecca determined that she would +have the first word in what might now be said between them. She had +suggested that this marriage with the Christian girl might be abandoned +without the disgrace upon Anton of having broken his troth, and she had +thereby laid herself open to a suspicion of having worked for her own +ends--of having done so with unmaidenly eagerness to gratify her own +love. Something on the subject must be said--would be said by him if +not by her--and therefore she would explain herself at once. She spoke +as soon as she found herself by his side in the street. "I regretted +what I said up-stairs, Anton, as soon as the words were out of my +mouth." + +"I do not know that you said anything to regret." + +"I told you that if in truth you thought this marriage to be wrong--" + +"Which I do not." + +"Pardon me, my friend, for a moment. If you had so thought, I said that +there was a mode of escape without falsehood or disgrace. In saying so +I must have seemed to urge you to break away from Nina Balatka." + +"You are all urging me to do that." + +"Coming from the others, such advice cannot even seem to have an +improper motive." Here she paused, feeling the difficulty of her task-- +aware that she could not conclude it without an admission which no +woman willingly makes. But she shook away the impediment, bracing +herself to the work, and went on steadily with her speech. "Coming from +me, such motive may be imputed--nay, it must be imputed." + +"No motive is imputed that is not believed by me to be good and healthy +and friendly." + +"Our friends," continued Rebecca, "have wished that you and I should be +husband and wife. That is now impossible." + +"It is impossible--because Nina will be my wife." + +"It is impossible, whether Nina should become your wife or should not +become your wife. I do not say this from any girlish pride. Before I +knew that you loved a Christian woman, I would willingly have been--as +our friends wished. You see I can trust you enough for candour. When +I was young they told me to love you, and I obeyed them. They told +me that I was to be your wife, and I taught myself to be happy in +believing them. I now know that they were wrong, and I will endeavour +to teach myself another happiness." + +"Rebecca, if I have been in fault--" + +"You have never been in fault. You are by nature too stern to fall into +such faults. It has been my misfortune--perhaps rather I should say +my difficulty--that till of late you have given me no sign by which I +could foresee my lot. I was still young, and I still believed what they +told me, even though you did not come to me as lovers come. Now I know +it all; and as any such thoughts--or wishes, if you will--as those I +used to have can never return to me, I may perhaps be felt by you to be +free to use what liberty of counsel old friendship may give me. I know +you will not misunderstand me--and that is all. Do not come further +with me." + +He called to her, but she was gone, escaping from him with quick +running feet through the dark night; and he returned to his father's +house, thinking of the girl that had left him. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Again some days passed by without any meeting between Nina and her +lover, and things were going very badly with the Balatkas in the old +house. The money that had come from the jeweller was not indeed all +expended, but Nina looked upon it as her last resource, till marriage +should come to relieve her; and the time of her marriage seemed to be +as far from her as ever. So the kreutzers were husbanded as only a +woman can husband them, and new attempts were made to reduce the little +expenses of the little household. + +"Souchey, you had better go. You had indeed," said Nina. "We cannot +feed you." Now Souchey had himself spoken of leaving them some days +since, urged to do so by his Christian indignation at the abominable +betrothal of his mistress. "You said the other day that you would do +so, and it will be better." + +"But I shall not." + +"Then you will be starved." + +"I am starved already, and it cannot be worse. I dined yesterday on +what they threw out to the dogs in the meat-market." + +"And where will you dine to-day?" + +"Ah, I shall dine better to-day. I shall get a meal in the Windberg- +gasse." + +"What! at my aunt's house?" + +"Yes; at your aunt's house. They live well there, even in the kitchen. +Lotta will have for me some hot soup, a mess of cabbage, and a sausage. +I wish I could bring it away from your aunt's house to the old man and +yourself." + +"I would sooner fall in the gutter than eat my aunt's meat." + +"That is all very fine for you, but I am not going to marry a Jewess. +Why should I quarrel with your aunt, or with Lotta Luxa? If you would +give up the Jew, Nina, your aunt's house would be open to you; yes--and +Ziska's house." + +"I will not give up the Jew," said Nina, with flashing eyes. + +"I suppose not. But what will you do when he gives you up? What if +Ziska then should not be so forward?" + +"Of all those who are my enemies, and whom I hate because they are so +cruel, I hate Ziska the worst. Go and tell him so, since you are +becoming one of them. In doing so much you cannot at any rate do me +harm." + +Then she took herself off, forgetting in her angry spirit the +prudential motives which had induced her to begin the conversation with +Souchey. But Souchey, though he was going to Madame Zamenoy's house to +get his dinner, and was looking forward with much eagerness to the mess +of hot cabbage and the cold sausage, had by no means become "one of +them" in the Windberg-gasse. He had had more than one interview of late +with Lotta Luxa, and had perceived that something was going on, of +which he much desired to be at the bottom. Lotta had some scheme, which +she was half willing and half unwilling to reveal to him, by which she +hoped to prevent the threatened marriage between Nina and the Jew. Now +Souchey was well enough inclined to take a part in such a scheme-- +provided it did not in any way make him a party with the Zamenoys in +things general against the Balatkas. It was his duty as a Christian-- +though he himself was rather slack in the performance of his own +religious duties--to put a stop to this horrible marriage if he could +do so; but it behoved him to be true to his master and mistress, and +especially true to them in opposition to the Zamenoys. He had in some +sort been carrying on a losing battle against the Zamenoys all his +life, and had some of the feelings of a martyr, telling himself that +he had lost a rich wife by doing so. He would go on this occasion and +eat his dinner and be very confidential with Lotta; but he would be +very discreet, would learn more than he told, and, above all, would not +betray his master or mistress. + +Soon after he was gone, Anton Trendellsohn came over to the Kleinseite, +and, ringing at the bell of the house, received admission from Nina +herself. "What! you, Anton?" she said, almost jumping into his arms, +and then restraining herself. "Will you come up? It is so long since I +have seen you." + +"Yes--it is long. I hope the time is soon coming when there shall be no +more of such separation." + +"Is it? Is it indeed?" + +"I trust it is." + +"I suppose as a maiden I ought to be coy, and say that I would prefer +to wait; but, dearest love, sorrow and trouble have banished all that. +You will not love me less because I tell you that I count the minutes +till I may be your wife." + +"No; I do not love you less on that account. I would have you be true +and faithful in all things." + +Though the words themselves were assuring, there was something in the +tone of his voice which repressed her. "To you I am true and faithful +in all things; as faithful as though you were already my husband. What +were you saying of a time that is soon coming?" + +He did not answer her question, but turned the subject away into +another channel. "I have brought something for you," he said--something +which I hope you will be glad to have." + +"Is it a present? she asked. As yet he had never given her anything +that she could call a gift, and it was to her almost a matter of pride +that she had taken nothing from her Jew lover, and that she would take +nothing till it should be her right to take everything. + +"Hardly a present; but you shall look at it as you will. You remember +Rapinsky, do you not?" Now Rapinsky was the jeweller in the Grosser +Ring, and Nina, though she well remembered the man and the shop, did +not at the moment remember the name. "You will not have forgotten this +at any rate," said Trendellsohn, bringing the necklace from out of his +pocket. + +"How did you get it?" said Nina, not putting out her hand to take it, +but looking at it as it lay upon the table. + +"I thought you would be glad to have it back again." + +"I should be glad if--" + +"If what?" Will it be less welcome because it comes through my hands?" + +"The man lent me money upon it, and you must have paid the money." + +"What if I have? I like your pride, Nina; but be not too proud. Of +course I have paid the money. I know Rapinsky, who deals with us often. +I went to him after you spoke to me, and got it back again. There is +your mother's necklace." + +"I am sorry for this, Anton." + +"Why sorry?" + +"We are so poor that I shall be driven to take it elsewhere again. I +cannot keep such a thing in the house while father wants. But better he +should want than--" + +"Than what, Nina?" + +"There would be something like cheating in borrowing money on the same +thing twice." + +"Then put it by, and I will be your lender." + +"No; I will not borrow from you. You are the only one in the world that +I could never repay. I cannot borrow from you. Keep this thing, and if +I am ever your wife, then you shall give it me." + +"If you are ever my wife?" + +"Is there no room for such an if? I hope there is not, Anton. I wish it +were as certain as the sun's rising. But people around us are so cruel! +It seems, sometimes, as though the world were against us. And then you, +yourself--" + +"What of me myself, Nina?" + +"I do not think you trust me altogether; and unless you trust me, I +know you will not make me your wife." + +"That is certain; and yet I do not doubt that you will be my wife." + +"But do you trust me? Do you believe in your heart of hearts that I +know nothing of that paper for which you are searching?" She paused +for a reply, but he did not at once make any. "Tell me," she went +on saying, with energy, "are you sure that I am true to you in that +matter, as in all others? Though I were starving--and it is nearly so +with me already--and though I loved you beyond even all heaven, as I +do, I do--I would not become your wife if you doubted me in any tittle. +Say that you doubt me, and then it shall be all over." Still he did not +speak. "Rebecca Loth will be a fitter wife for you than I can be," said +Nina. + +"If you are not my wife, I shall never have a wife," said Trendellsohn. + +In her ecstasy of delight, as she heard these words, she took up his +hand and kissed it; but she dropped it again, as she remembered that +she had not yet received the assurance that she needed. "But you do +believe me about this horrid paper?" + +It was necessary that she should be made to go again through the fire. +In deliberate reflection he had made himself aware that such necessity +still existed. It might be that she had some inner reserve as to duty +towards her father. There was, possibly, some reason which he could +not fathom why she should still keep something back from him in this +matter. He did not, in truth, think that it was so, but there was the +chance. There was the chance, and he could not bear to be deceived. He +felt assured that Ziska Zamenoy and Lotta Luxa believed that this deed +was in Nina's keeping. Indeed, he was assured that all the household of +the Zamenoys so believed. "If there be a God above us, it is there," +Lotta had said, crossing herself. He did not think it was there; he +thought that Lotta was wrong, and that all the Zamenoys were wrong, by +some mistake which he could not fathom; but still there was the chance, +and Nina must be made to bear this additional calamity. + +"Do you think it impossible," said he, "that you should have it among +your own things?" + +"What! without knowing that I have it?" she asked. + +"It may have come to you with other papers," he said, "and you may not +quite have understood its nature." + +"There, in that desk, is every paper that I have in the world. You +can look if you suspect me. But I shall not easily forgive you for +looking." Then she threw down the key of her desk upon the table. He +took it up and fingered it, but did not move towards the desk. "The +greatest treasure there," she said, "are scraps of your own, which I +have been a fool to value, as they have come from a man who does not +trust me." + +He knew that it would be useless for him to open the desk. If she were +secreting anything from him, she was not hiding it there. "Might it not +possibly be among your clothes?" he asked. + +"I have no clothes," she answered, and then strode off across the wide +room towards the door of her father's apartment. But after she had +grasped the handle of the door, she turned again upon her lover. "It +may, however, be well that you should search my chamber and my bed. If +you will come with me, I will show you the door. You will find it to be +a sorry place for one who was your affianced bride." + +"Who _is_ my affianced bride," said Trendellsohn. + +"No, sir!--who was, but is so no longer. You will have to ask my +pardon, at my feet, before I will let you speak to me again as my +lover. Go and search. Look for your deed--and then you shall see that +I will tear out my own heart rather than submit to the ill-usage of +distrust from one who owes me so much faith as you do." + +"Nina" he said. + +"Well, sir." + +"I do trust you." + +"Yes--with a half trust--with one eye closed, while the other is +watching me. You think you have so conquered me that I will be good to +you, and yet cannot keep yourself from listening to those who whisper +that I am bad to you. Sir, I fear they have been right when they told +me that a Jew's nature would surely shock me at last." + +The dark frowning cloud, which she had so often observed with fear, +came upon his brow; but she did not fear him now. "And do you too taunt +me with my religion?" he said. + +"No, not so--not with your religion, Anton; but with your nature." + +"And how can I help my nature?" + +"I suppose you cannot help it, and I am wrong to taunt you. I should +not have taunted you. I should only have said that I will not endure +the suspicion either of a Christian or of a Jew." + +He came up to her now, and put out his arm as though he were about to +embrace her. "No," she said; "not again, till you have asked my pardon +for distrusting me, and have given me your solemn word that you +distrust me no longer." + +He paused a moment in doubt, then put his hat on his head and prepared +to leave her. She had behaved very well, but still he would not be weak +enough to yield to her in everything at once. As to opening her desk, +or going up-stairs into her room, that he felt to be quite impossible. +Even his nature did not admit of that. But neither did his nature allow +him to ask her pardon and to own that he had been wrong. She had said +that he must implore her forgiveness at her feet. One word, however, +one look, would have sufficed. But that word and that look were, at the +present moment, out of his power. "Good-bye, Nina," he said. "It is +best that I should leave you now." + +"By far the best; and you will take the necklace with you, if you +please." + +"No; I will leave that. I cannot keep a trinket that was your +mother's." + +"Take it, then, to the jeweller's, and get back your money. It shall +not be left here. I will have nothing from your hands." He was so far +cowed by her manner that he took up the necklace and left the house, +and Nina was once more alone. + +What they had told her of her lover was after all true. That was the +first idea that occurred to her as she sat in her chair, stunned by +the sorrow that had come upon her. They had dinned into her ears their +accusations, not against the man himself, but against the tribe to +which he belonged, telling her that a Jew was, of his very nature, +suspicious, greedy, and false. She had perceived early in her +acquaintance with Anton Trendellsohn that he was clever, ambitious, +gifted with the power of thinking as none others whom she knew could +think; and that he had words at his command, and was brave, and was +endowed with a certain nobility of disposition which prompted him to +wish for great results rather than for small advantages. All this had +conquered her, and had made her resolve to think that a Jew could be as +good as a Christian. But now, when the trial of the man had in truth +come, she found that those around her had been right in what they had +said. How base must be the nature which could prompt a man to suspect +a girl who had been true to him as Nina had been true to her lover! + +She would never see him again--never! He had left the room without even +answering the question which she had asked him. He would not even say +that he trusted her. It was manifest that he did not trust her, and +that he believed at this moment that she was endeavouring to rob him in +this matter of the deed. He had asked her if she had it in her desk or +among her clothes, and her very soul revolted from the suspicion so +implied. She would never speak to him again. It was all over. No; she +would never willingly speak to him again. + +But what would she do? For a few minutes she fell back, as is so +natural with mortals in trouble, upon that religion which she had been +so willing to outrage by marrying the Jew. She went to a little drawer +and took out a string of beads which had lain there unused since she +had been made to believe that the Virgin and the saints would not +permit her marriage with Anton Trendellsohn. She took out the beads-- +but she did not use them. She passed no berries through her fingers to +check the number of prayers said, for she found herself unable to say +any prayer at all. If he would come back to her, and ask her pardon-- +ask it in truth at her feet--she would still forgive him, regardless +of the Virgin and the saints. And if he did not come back, what was +the fate that Lotta Luxa had predicted for her, and to which she had +acknowledged to herself that she would be driven to submit? In either +case how could she again come to terms with St John and St Nicholas? +And how was she to live? Should she lose her lover, as she now told +herself would certainly be her fate, what possibility of life was left +to her? From day to day and from week to week she had put off to a +future hour any definite consideration of what she and her father +should do in their poverty, believing that it might be postponed till +her marriage would make all things easy. Her future mode of living +had often been discussed between her and her lover, and she had been +candid enough in explaining to him that she could not leave her father +desolate. He had always replied that his wife's father should want for +nothing, and she had been delighted to think that she could with joy +accept that from her husband which nothing would induce her to accept +from her lover. This thought had sufficed to comfort her, as the evil +of absolute destitution was close upon her. Surely the day of her +marriage would come soon. + +But now it seemed to her to be certain that the day of her marriage +would never come. All those expectations must be banished, and she must +look elsewhere--if elsewhere there might be any relief. She knew well +that if she would separate herself from the Jew, the pocket of her aunt +would be opened to relieve the distress of her father--would be opened +so far as to save the old man from perishing of want. Aunt Sophie, if +duly invoked, would not see her sister's husband die of starvation. +Nay, aunt Sophie would doubtless so far stretch her Christian charity +as to see that her niece was in some way fed, if that niece would be +duly obedient. Further still, aunt Sophie would accept her niece as +the very daughter of her house, as the rising mistress of her own +establishment, if that niece would only consent to love her son. Ziska +was there as a husband in Anton's place, if Ziska might only gain +acceptance. + +But Nina, as she rose from her chair and walked backwards and forwards +through her chamber, telling herself all these things, clenched her +fist, and stamped her foot, as she swore to herself that she would +dare all that the saints could do to her, that she would face all the +terrors of the black dark river, before she would succumb to her cousin +Ziska. As she worked herself into wrath, thinking now of the man she +loved, and then of the man she did not love, she thought that she could +willingly perish--if it were not that her father lay there so old +and so helpless. Gradually, as she magnified to herself the terrible +distresses of her heart, the agony of her yearning love for a man who, +though he loved her, was so unworthy of her perfect faith, she began to +think that it would be well to be carried down by the quick, eternal, +almighty stream beyond the reach of the sorrow which encompassed her. +When her father should leave her she would be all alone--alone in the +world, without a friend to regard her, or one living human being on +whom she, a girl, might rely for protection, shelter, or even for a +morsel of bread. Would St Nicholas cover her from the contumely of the +world, or would St John of the Bridges feed her? Did she in her heart +of hearts believe that even the Virgin would assist her in such a +strait? No; she had no such belief. It might be that such real belief +had never been hers. She hardly knew. But she did know that now, in the +hour of her deep trouble, she could not say her prayers and tell her +beads, and trust valiantly that the goodness of heaven would suffice to +her in her need. + +In the mean time Souchey had gone off to the Windberg-gasse, and had +gladdened himself with the soup, with the hot mess of cabbage and the +sausage, supplied by Madame Zamenoy's hospitality. The joys of such a +moment are unknown to any but those who, like Souchey, have been driven +by circumstances to sit at tables very ill supplied. On the previous +day he had fed upon offal thrown away from a butcher's stall, and habit +had made such feeding not unfamiliar to him. As he walked from the +Kleinseite through the Old Town to Madame Zamenoy's bright-looking +house in the New Town, he had comforted himself greatly with thoughts +of the coming feast. The representation which his imagination made to +him of the banquet sufficed to produce happiness, and he went along +hardly envying any man. His propensities at the moment were the +propensities of a beast. And yet he was submitting himself to the +terrible poverty which made so small a matter now a matter of joy to +him, because there was a something of nobility within him which made +him true to the master who had been true to him, when they had both +been young together. Even now he resolved, as he sharpened his teeth, +that through all the soup and all the sausage he would be true to the +Balatkas. He would be true even to Nina Balatka--though he recognised +it as a paramount duty to do all in his power to save her from the Jew. + +He was seated at the table in the kitchen almost as soon as he had +entered the house in the Windberg-gasse, and found his plate full +before him. Lotta had felt that there was no need of the delicacy of +compliment in feeding a man who was so undoubtedly hungry, and she had +therefore bade him at once fall to. "A hearty meal is a thing you are +not used to," she had said, "and it will do your old bones a deal of +good." The address was not complimentary, especially as coming from a +lady in regard to whom he entertained tender feelings; but Souchey +forgave the something of coarse familiarity which the words displayed, +and, seating himself on the stool before the victuals, gave play to the +feelings of the moment. "There's no one to measure what's left of the +sausage," said Lotta, instigating him to new feats. + +"Ain't there now?" said Souchey, responding to the sound of the +trumpet. "I always thought she had the devil's own eye in looking after +what was used in the kitchen." + +"The devil himself winks sometimes," said Lotta, cutting another half- +inch off from the unconsumed fragment, and picking the skin from the +meat with her own fair fingers. Hitherto Souchey had been regardless of +any such niceness in his eating, the skin having gone with the rest; +but now he thought that the absence of the outside covering and the +touch of Lotta's fingers were grateful to his appetite. + +"Souchey," said Lotta, when he had altogether done, and had turned his +stool round to the kitchen fire, "where do you think Nina would go if +she were to marry--a Jew?" There was an abrupt solemnity in the manner +of the question which at first baffled the man, whose breath was heavy +with the comfortable repletion which had been bestowed upon him. + +"Where would she go to?" he said, repeating Lotta's words. + +"Yes, Souchey, where would she go to? Where would be her eternal home? +What would become of her soul? Do you know that not a priest in Prague +would give her absolution though she were on her dying bed? Oh, holy +Mary, it's a terrible thing to think of! It's bad enough for the old +man and her to be there day after day without a morsel to eat; and I +suppose if it were not for Anton Trendellsohn it would be bad enough +with them--" + +"Not a gulden, then, has Nina ever taken from the Jew--nor the value of +a gulden, as far as I can judge between them." + +"What matters that, Souchey? Is she not engaged to him as his wife? Can +anything in the world be so dreadful? Don't you know she'll be--damned +for ever and ever?" Lotta, as she uttered the terrible words, brought +her face close to Souchey's, looking into his eyes with a fierce glare. +Souchey shook his head sorrowfully, owning thereby that his knowledge +in the matter of religion did not go to the point indicated by Lotta +Luxa. "And wouldn't anything, then, be a good deed that would prevent +that?" + +"It's the priests that should do it among them." + +"But the priests are not the men they used to be, Souchey. And it is +not exactly their fault neither. There are so many folks about in these +days who care nothing who goes to glory and who does not, and they are +too many for the priests." + +"If the priests can't fight their own battle, I can't fight it for +them," said Souchey. + +"But for the old family, Souchey, that you have known so long! Look +here; you and I between us can prevent it." + +"And how is it to be done?" + +"Ah! that's the question. If I felt that I was talking to a real +Christian that had a care for the poor girl's soul, I would tell you in +a moment." + +"So I am; only her soul isn't my business." + +"Then I cannot tell you this. I can't do it unless you acknowledge that +her welfare as a Christian is the business of us all. Fancy, Souchey, +your mistress married to a filthy Jew!" + +"For the matter of that, he isn't so filthy neither." + +"An abominable Jew! But, Souchey, she will never fall out with him. We +must contrive that he shall quarrel with her. If she had a thing about +her that he did not want her to have, couldn't you contrive that he +should know it?" + +"What sort of thing? Do you mean another lover, like?" + +"No, you gander. If there was anything of that sort I could manage it +myself. But if she had a thing locked up--away from him, couldn't you +manage to show it to him? He's very generous in rewarding, you know." + +"I don't want to have anything to do with it," said Souchey, getting up +from his stool and preparing to take his departure. Though he had been +so keen after the sausage, he was above taking a bribe in such a matter +as this. + +"Stop, Souchey, stop. I didn't think that I should ever have to ask +anything of you in vain." + +Then she put her face very close to his, so that her lips touched his +ear, and she laid her hand heavily upon his arm, and she was very +confidential. Souchey listened to the whisper till his face grew longer +and longer. "'Tis for her soul," said Lotta--"for her poor soul's sake. +When you can save her by raising your hand, would you let her be damned +for ever?" + +But she could exact no promise from Souchey except that he would keep +faith with her, and that he would consider deeply the proposal made to +him. Then there was a tender farewell between them, and Souchey +returned to the Kleinseite. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +For two days after this Nina heard nothing from the Jews' quarter, and +in her terrible distress her heart almost became softened towards the +man who had so deeply offended her. She began to tell herself, in the +weariness of her sorrow, that men were different from women, and, of +their nature, more suspicious; that no woman had a right to expect +every virtue in her lover, and that no woman had less of such right +than she herself, who had so little to give in return for all that +Anton proposed to bestow upon her. She began to think that she could +forgive him, even for his suspicion, if he would only come to be +forgiven. But he came not, and it was only too plain to her that she +could not be the first to go to him after what had passed between them. +And then there fell another crushing sorrow upon her. Her father was +ill--so ill that he was like to die. The doctor came to him--some son +of Galen who had known the merchant in his prosperity--and, with kind +assurances, told Nina that her father, though he could pay nothing, +should have whatever assistance medical attention could give him; but +he said, at the same time, that medical attention could give no aid +that would be of permanent service. The light had burned down in the +socket, and must go out. The doctor took Nina by the hand, and put his +own hand upon her soft tresses, and spoke kind words to console her. +And then he said that the sick man ought to take a few glasses of wine +every day; and as he was going away, turned back again, and promised +to send the wine from his own house. Nina thanked him, and plucked up +something of her old spirit during his presence, and spoke to him as +though she had no other care than that of her father's health; but as +soon as the doctor was gone she thought again of her Jew lover. That +her father should die was a great grief. But when she should be alone +in the old house, with the corpse lying on the bed, would Anton +Trendellsohn come to her then? + +He did not come to her now, though he knew of her father's illness. She +sent Souchey to the Jews' quarter to tell the sad news--not to him, but +to old Trendellsohn. "For the sake of the property it is right that he +should know," Nina said to herself, excusing to herself on this plea +her weakness in sending any message to the house of Anton Trendellsohn +till he should have come and asked her pardon. But even after this he +came not. She listened to every footstep that entered the courtyard. +She could not keep herself from going to the window, and from looking +into the square. Surely now, in her deep sorrow, in her solitude, he +would come to her. He would come and say one word--that he did trust +her, that he would trust her! But no; he came not at all; and the hours +of the day and the night followed slowly and surely upon each other, as +she sat by her father's bed watching the last quiver of the light in +the socket. + +But though Trendellsohn did not come himself, there came to her a +messenger from the Jew's house--a messenger from the Jew's house, but +not a messenger from Anton Trendellsohn. "Here is a girl from the-- +Jew," said Souchey, whispering into her ear as she sat at her father's +bedside--"one of themselves. Shall I tell her to go away, because he +is so ill?" And Souchey pointed to his master's head on the pillow. +"She has got a basket, but she can leave that." + +Nina, however, was by no means inclined to send the Jewess away, +rightly guessing that the stranger was her friend Ruth. "Stop here, +Souchey, and I will go to her," Nina said. "Do not leave him till I +return. I will not be long." She would not have let a dog go without a +word that had come from Anton's house or from Anton's presence. Perhaps +he had written to her. If there were but a line to say, "Pardon me; I +was wrong," everything might yet be right. But Ruth Jacobi was the +bearer of no note from Anton, nor indeed had she come on her present +message with her uncle's knowledge. She had put a heavy basket on the +table, and now, running forward, took Nina by the hands, and kissed +her. + +"We have been so sorry, all of us, to hear of your father's illness," +said Ruth. + +"Father is very ill," said Nina. "He is dying." + +"Nay, Nina; it may be that he is not dying. Life and death both are in +the hands of God." + +"Yes; it is in God's hands of course; but the doctor says that he will +die." + +"The doctors have no right to speak in that way," said Ruth, "for how +can they know God's pleasure? It may be that he will recover." + +"Yes; it may be," said Nina. "It is good of you to come to me, Ruth. +I am so glad you have come. Have you any--any--message?" If he would +only ask to be forgiven through Ruth, or even if he had sent a word +that might be taken to show that he wished to be forgiven, it should +suffice. + +"I have--brought--a few things in a basket," said Ruth, almost +apologetically. + +Then Nina lifted the basket. "You did not surely carry this through the +streets?" + +"I had Shadrach, our boy, with me. He carried it. It is not from me, +exactly; though I have been so glad to come with it." + +"And who sent it?" said Nina, quickly, with her fingers trembling on +its lid. If Anton had thought to send anything to her, that anything +should suffice. + +"It was Rebecca Loth who thought of it, and who asked me to come," said +Ruth. + +Then Nina drew back her fingers as though they were burned, and walked +away from the table with quick angry steps. "Why should Rebecca Loth +send anything to me?" she said. "What is there in the basket?" + +"She has written a little line. It is at the top. But she has asked me +to say--" + +"What has she asked you to say? Why should she say anything to me?" + +"Nay, Nina; she is very good, and she loves you." + +"I do not want her love." + +"I am to say to you that she has heard of your distress, and she hopes +that a girl like you will let a girl like her do what she can to +comfort you." + +"She cannot comfort me." + +"She bade me say that if she were ill or in sorrow, there is no hand +from which she would so gladly take comfort as from yours--for the +sake, she said, of a mutual friend." + +"I have no--friend," said Nina. + +"Oh, Nina, am not I your friend? Do not I love you?" + +"I do not know. If you do love me now, you must cease to love me. You +are a Jewess, and I am a Christian, and we must live apart. You, at +least, must live. I wish you would tell the boy that he may take back +the basket." + +"There are things in it for your father, Nina; and, Nina, surely you +will read Rebecca's note?" + +Then Ruth went to the basket, and from the top she took out Rebecca's +letter, and gave it to Nina, and Nina read it. It was as follows: + + I shall always regard you as very dear to me, because our hearts + have been turned in the same way. It may not be perhaps that we + shall know each other much at first; but I hope the days may come + when we shall be much older than we are now, and that then we may + meet and be able to talk of what has passed without pain. I do not + know why a Jewess and a Christian woman should not be friends. + + I have sent a few things which may perhaps be of comfort to your + father. In pity to me do not refuse them. They are such as one + woman should send to another. And I have added a little trifle + for your own use. At the present moment you are poor as to money, + though so rich in the gifts which make men love. On my knees before + you I ask you to accept from my hand what I send, and to think of + me as one who would serve you in more things if it were possible. + Yours, if you will let me, affectionately, REBECCA. + + I see when I look at them that the shoes will be too big. + +She stood for a while apart from Ruth, with the open note in her hand, +thinking whether or no she would accept the gifts which had been sent. +The words which Rebecca had written had softened her heart, especially +those in which the Jewess had spoken openly to her of her poverty. "At +the present moment you are poor as to money," the girl had said, and +had said it as though such poverty were, after all, but a small thing +in their relative positions one to another. That Nina should be loved, +and Rebecca not loved, was a much greater thing. For her father's sake +she would take the things sent--and for Rebecca's sake. She would take +even the shoes, which she wanted so sorely. She remembered well, as she +read the last word, how, when Rebecca had been with her, she herself +had pointed to the poor broken slippers which she wore, not meaning to +excite such compassion as had now been shown. Yes, she would accept it +all--as one woman should take such things from another. + +"You will not make Shadrach carry them back?" said Ruth, imploring her. + +"But he--has he sent nothing?--not a word?" She would have thought +herself to be utterly incapable, before Ruth had come, of showing so +much weakness; but her reserve gave way as she admitted in her own +heart the kindness of Rebecca, and she became conquered and humbled. +She was so terribly in want of his love at this moment! "And has he +sent no word of a message to me?" + +"I did not tell him that I was coming." + +But he knows--he knows that father is so ill." + +"Yes; I suppose he has heard that, because Souchey came to the house. +But he has been out of temper with us all, and unhappy, for some days +past. I know that he is unhappy when he is so harsh with us." + +"And what has made him unhappy? + +"Nay, I cannot tell you that. I thought perhaps it was because you did +not come to him. You used to come and see us at our house." + +Dear Ruth! Dearest Ruth, for saying such dear words! She had done more +than Rebecca by the sweetness of the suggestion. If it were really the +case that he were unhappy because they had parted from each other in +anger, no further forgiveness would be necessary. + +"But how can I come, Ruth?" she said. "It is he that should come to +me." + +"You used to come." + +"Ah, yes. I came first with messages from father, and then because I +loved to hear him talk to me. I do not mind telling you, Ruth, now. And +then I came because--because he said I was to be his wife. I thought +that if I was to be his wife it could not be wrong that I should go to +his father's house. But now that so many people know it--that they talk +about it so much--I cannot go to him now." + +"But you are not ashamed of being engaged to him--because he is a Jew?" + +"No," said Nina, raising herself to her full height; "I am not ashamed +of him. I am proud of him. To my thinking there is no man like him. +Compare him and Ziska, and Ziska becomes hardly a man at all. I am very +proud to think that he has chosen me." + +"That is well spoken, and I shall tell him." + +"No, you must not tell him, Ruth. Remember that I talk to you as a +friend, and not as a child." + +"But I will tell him, because then his brow will become smooth, and he +will be happy. He likes to think that people know him to be clever; and +he will be glad to be told that you understand him." + +"I think him greater and better than all men; but, Ruth, you must not +tell him what I say--not now, at least--for a reason." + +"What reason, Nina?" + +"Well; I will tell you, though I would not tell anyone else in the +world. When we parted last I was angry with him--very angry with him." + +"He had been scolding you, perhaps?" + +"I should not mind that--not in the least. He has a right to scold me." + +"He has a right to scold me, I suppose; but I mind it very much." + +"But he has no right to distrust me, Ruth. I wish he could see my heart +and all my mind, and know every thought in my breast, and then he would +feel that he could trust me. I would not deceive him by a word or a +look for all the world. He does not know how true I am to him, and that +kills me." + +"I will tell him everything." + +"No, Ruth; tell him nothing. If he cannot find it out without being +told, telling will do no good. If you thought a person was a thief, +would you change your mind because the person told you he was honest? +He must find it out for himself if he is ever to know it." + +When Ruth was gone, Nina knew that she had been comforted. To have +spoken about her lover was in itself much; and to have spoken about him +as she had done seemed almost to have brought him once more near to +her. Ruth had declared that Anton was sad, and had suggested to Nina +that the cause of his sadness was the same as her own. There could not +but be comfort in this. If he really wished to see her, would he not +come over to the Kleinseite? There could be no reason why he should not +visit the girl he intended to marry, and whom he was longing to see. Of +course he had business which must occupy his time. He could not give up +every moment to thoughts of love, as she could do. She told herself all +this, and once more endeavoured to be comforted. + +And then she unpacked the basket. There were fresh eggs, and a quantity +of jelly, and some soup in a jug ready to be made hot, and such +delicacies as invalids will eat when their appetites will serve for +nothing else. And Nina, as she took these things out, thought only of +her father. She took them as coming for him altogether, without any +reference to her own use. But at the bottom of the basket there were +stockings, and a handkerchief or two, and a petticoat, and a pair of +shoes. Should she throw them out among the ashes behind the kitchen, or +should she press them to her bosom as treasures to be loved as long as +a single thread of them might hang together? She had taken such alms +before--from her aunt Sophie--taking them in bitterness of spirit, and +wearing them as though they were made of sackcloth, very sore to the +skin. The acceptance of such things, even from her aunt, had been gall +to her; but, in the old days, no idea of refusing them had come to her. +Of course she must submit herself to her aunt's charity, because of her +father's poverty. And garments had come to her which were old and worn, +bearing unmistakable signs of Lotta's coarse but reparative energies-- +raiment against which her feminine niceness would have rebelled, had it +been possible for her, in her misfortunes, to indulge her feminine +niceness. + +But there was a sweet scent of last summer's roses on the things which +now lay in her lap, and each article was of the best; and, though each +had been worn, they were all such as one girl would lend to another who +was her dearest friend--who was to be made welcome to the wardrobe as +though it were her own. There was something of the tenderness of love +in the very folding, and respect as well as friendship in the care of +the packing. Her aunt's left-off clothes had come to her in a big roll, +fastened with a corking-pin. But Rebecca, with delicate fingers, had +made each article of her tribute to look pretty, as though for the +dress of such a one as Nina prettiness and care must always be needed. +It was not possible for her to refuse a present sent to her with so +many signs of tenderness. + +And then she tried on the shoes. Of all the things she needed these +were the most necessary. At her first glance she thought that they were +new; but she perceived that they had been worn, and she liked them the +better on that account. She put her feet into them and found that they +were in truth a little too large for her. And this, even this, tended +in some sort to gratify her feelings and soothe the asperity of her +grief. "It is only a quarter of a size," she said to herself, as she +held up her dress that she might look at her feet. And thus she +resolved that she would accept her rival's kindness. + +On the following morning the priest came--that Father Jerome whom she +had known as a child, and from whom she had been unable to obtain +ghostly comfort since she had come in contact with the Jew. Her aunt +and her father, Souchey and Lotta Luxa, had all threatened her with +Father Jerome; and when it had become manifest to her that it would be +necessary that the priest should visit her father in his extremity, she +had at first thought that it would be well for her to hide herself. +But the cowardice of this had appeared to her to be mean, and she had +resolved that she would meet her old friend at her father's bedside. +After all, what would his bitterest words be to her after such words +as she had endured from her lover? + +Father Jerome came, and she received him in the parlour. She received +him with downcast eyes and a demeanour of humility, though she was +resolved to flare up against him if he should attack her too cruelly. +But the man was as mild to her and as kind as ever he had been in her +childhood, when he would kiss her, and call her his little nun, and +tell her that if she would be a good girl she should always have a +white dress and roses at the festival of St Nicholas. He put his hand +on her head and blessed her, and did not seem to have any abhorrence of +her because she was going to marry a Jew. And yet he knew it. + +He asked a few words as to her father, who was indeed better on this +morning than he had been for the last few days, and then he passed on +into the sick man's room. And there, after a few faintest words of +confession from the sick man, Nina knelt by her father's bedside, while +the priest prayed for them both, and forgave the sinner his sins, and +prepared him for his further journey with such preparation as the +extreme unction of his Church would afford. + +When the prayer and the ceremony were over, and the viaticum had been +duly administered, the priest returned into the parlour, and Nina +followed him. "He is stronger than I had expected to find him," said +Father Jerome. + +"He has rallied a little, Father, because you were coming. You may be +sure that he is very ill." + +"I know that he is very ill, but I think that he may still last some +days. Should it be so, I will come again." After that Nina thought that +the priest would have gone; but he paused for a few moments as though +hesitating, and then spoke again, putting down his hat, which he had +taken up. "But what is all this that I hear about you, Nina?" + +"All what?" said Nina, blushing. + +"They tell me that you have engaged yourself to marry Anton +Trendellsohn, the Jew." + +She stood before him confessing her guilt by her silence. "Is it true, +Nina?" he asked. + +"It is true." + +"I am very sorry for that--very sorry. Could you not bring yourself to +love some Christian youth, rather than a Jew? Would it not be better, +do you think, to do so--for your soul's sake?" + +"It is too late now, Father." + +"Too late! No; it can never be too late to repent of evil." + +"But why should it be evil, Father Jerome? It is permitted; is it not?" + +"The law permits it, certainly." + +"And when I am a Jew's wife, may I not go to mass?" + +"Yes; you may go to mass. Who can hinder you?" + +"And if I pray devoutly, will not the saints hear me?" + +"It is not for me to limit their mercy. I think that they will hear all +prayers that are addressed to them with faith and humility." + +"And you, Father, will you not give me absolution if I am a Jew's +wife?" + +"I would ten times sooner give it you as the wife of a Christian, Nina. +My absolution would be nothing to you, Nina, if the while you had a +deep sin upon your conscience." Then the priest went, being unwilling +to endure further questioning, and Nina seated herself in a glow of +triumph. And this was the worst that she would have to endure from the +Church after all her aunt's threatenings--after Lotta's bitter words, +and the reproaches of all around her! Father Jerome--even Father +Jerome himself, who was known to be the strictest priest on that side +of the river in opposing the iniquities of his flock--did not take upon +himself to say that her case as a Christian would be hopeless, were she +to marry the Jew! After that she went to the drawer in her bedroom, and +restored the picture of the Virgin to its place. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Father Jerome had been very mild with Nina, but his mildness did not +produce any corresponding feelings of gentleness in the breasts of +Nina's relatives in the Windberg-gasse. Indeed, it had the contrary +effect of instigating Madame Zamenoy and Lotta Luxa to new exertions. +Nina, in her triumph, could not restrain herself from telling Souchey +that Father Jerome did not by any means think so badly of her as did +the others; and Souchey, partly in defence of Nina, and partly in +quest of further sound information on the knotty religious difficulty +involved, repeated it all to Lotta. Among them they succeeded in +cutting Souchey's ground from under him as far as any defence of Nina +was concerned, and they succeeded also in solving his religious doubts. +Poor Souchey was at last convinced that the best service he could +tender to his mistress was to save her from marrying the Jew, let the +means by which this was to be done be, almost, what they might. + +As the result of this teaching, Souchey went late one afternoon to +the Jews' quarter. He did not go thither direct from the house in the +Kleinseite, but from Madame Zamenoy's abode, where he had again dined +previously in Lotta's presence. Madame Zamenoy herself had condescended +to enlighten his mind on the subject of Nina's peril, and had gone so +far as to invite him to hear a few words on the subject from a priest +on that side of the water. Souchey had only heard Nina's report of what +Father Jerome had said, but he was listening with his own ears while +the other priest declared his opinion that things would go very badly +with any Christian girl who might marry a Jew. This sufficed for him; +and then--having been so far enlightened by Madame Zamenoy herself--he +accepted a little commission, which took him to the Jew's house. Lotta +had had much difficulty in arranging this; for Souchey was not open +to a bribe in the matter, and on that account was able to press his +legitimate suit very closely. Before he would start on his errand to +the Jew, Lotta was almost obliged to promise that she would yield. + +It was late in the afternoon when he got to Trendellsohn's house. He +had never been there before, though he well knew the exact spot on +which it stood, and had often looked up at the windows, regarding the +place with unpleasant suspicions; for he knew that Trendellsohn was +now the owner of the property that had once been his master's, and, of +course, as a good Christian, he believed that the Jew had obtained +Balatka's money by robbery and fraud. He hesitated a moment before he +presented himself at the door, having some fear at his heart. He knew +that he was doing right, but these Jews in their own quarter were +uncanny, and might be dangerous! To Anton Trendellsohn, over in the +Kleinseite, Souchey could be independent, and perhaps on occasions a +little insolent; but of Anton Trendellsohn in his own domains he almost +acknowledged to himself that he was afraid. Lotta had told him that, if +Anton were not at home, his commission could be done as well with the +old man; and as he at last made his way round the synagogue to the +house door, he determined that he would ask for the elder Jew. That +which he had to say, he thought, might be said easier to the father +than to the son. + +The door of the house stood open, and Souchey, who, in his confusion, +missed the bell, entered the passage. The little oil-lamp still hung +there, giving a mysterious glimmer of light, which he did not at all +enjoy. He walked on very slowly, trying to get courage to call, when, +of a sudden, he perceived that there was a figure of a man standing +close to him in the gloom. He gave a little start, barely suppressing a +scream, and then perceived that the man was Anton Trendellsohn himself. +Anton, hearing steps in the passage, had come out from the room on the +ground-floor, and had seen Souchey before Souchey had seen him. + +"You have come from Josef Balatka's," said the Jew. "How is the old +man?" + +Souchey took off his cap and bowed, and muttered something as to his +having come upon an errand. "And my master is something better to-day," +he said, "thanks be to God for all His mercies!" + +"Amen," said the Jew. + +"But it will only last a day or two; no more than that," said Souchey. +"He has had the doctor and the priest, and they both say that it is all +over with him for this world." + +"And Nina--you have brought some message probably from her?" + +"No--no indeed; that is, not exactly; not to-day, Herr Trendellsohn. +The truth is, I had wished to speak a word or two to you about the +maiden; but perhaps you are engaged--perhaps another time would be +better." + +"I am not engaged, and no other time could be better." + +They were still out in the passage, and Souchey hesitated. That which +he had to say it would behove him to whisper into the closest privacy +of the Jew's ear--into the ear of the old Jew or of the young. "It is +something very particular," said Souchey. + +"Very particular--is it?" said the Jew. + +"Very particular indeed." said Souchey. Then Anton Trendellsohn led +the way back into the dark room on the ground-floor from whence he had +come, and invited Souchey to follow him. The shutters were up, and the +place was seldom used. There was a counter running through it, and a +cross-counter, such as are very common when seen by the light of day +in shops; but the place seemed to be mysterious to Souchey; and always +afterwards, when he thought of this interview, he remembered that his +tale had been told in the gloom of a chamber that had never been +arranged for honest Christian purposes. + +"And now, what is it you have to tell me?" said the Jew. + +After some fashion Souchey told his tale, and the Jew listened to him +without a word of interruption. More than once Souchey had paused, +hoping that the Jew would say something; but not a sound had fallen +from Trendellsohn till Souchey's tale was done. + +"And it is so--is it?" said the Jew when Souchey ceased to speak. There +was nothing in his voice which seemed to indicate either sorrow or joy, +or even surprise. + +"Yes, it is so," said Souchey. + +"And how much am I to pay you for the information?" the Jew asked. + +"You are to pay me nothing," said Souchey. + +"What! you betray your mistress gratis?" + +"I do not betray her," said Souchey. I love her and the old man too. I +have been with them through fair weather and through foul. I have not +betrayed her." + +"Then why have you come to me with this story?" + +The whole truth was almost on Souchey's tongue. He had almost said that +his sole object was to save his mistress from the disgrace of marrying +a Jew. But he checked himself, then paused a moment, and then left the +room and the house abruptly. He had done his commission, and the fewer +words which he might have with the Jew after that the better. + +On the following morning Nina was seated by her father's bedside, when +her quick ear caught through the open door the sound of a footstep in +the hall below. She looked for a moment at the old man, and saw that if +not sleeping he appeared to sleep. She leaned over him for a moment, +gave one gentle touch with her hand to the bed-clothes, then crept out +into the parlour, and closed behind her the door of the bed-room. When +in the middle of the outer chamber she listened again, and there was +clearly a step on the stairs. She listened again, and she knew that the +step was the step of her lover. He had come to her at last, then. Now, +at this moment, she lost all remembrance of her need of forgiving him. +Forgiving him! What could there be to be forgiven to one who could make +her so happy as she felt herself to be at this moment? She opened the +door of the room just as he had raised his hand to knock, and threw +herself into his arms. "Anton, dearest, you have come at last. But I +am not going to scold. I am so glad that you have come, my own one!" + +While she was yet speaking, he brought her back into the room, +supporting her with his arm round her waist; and when the door was +closed he stood over her still holding her up, and looking down into +her face, which was turned up to his. "Why do you not speak to me, +Anton?" she said. But she smiled as she spoke, and there was nothing +of fear in the tone of her voice, for his look was kind, and there was +love in his eyes. + +He stooped down over her, and fastened his lips upon her forehead. She +pressed herself closer against his shoulder, and shutting her eyes, as +she gave herself up to the rapture of his embrace, told herself that +now all should be well with them. + +"Dear Nina," he said. + +"Dearest, dearest Anton," she replied. + +And then he asked after her father; and the two sat together for a +while, with their knees almost touching, talking in whispers as to the +condition of the old man. And they were still so sitting, and still so +talking, when Nina rose from her chair, and put up her forefinger with +a slight motion for silence, and a pretty look of mutual interest--as +though Anton were already one of the same family; and, touching his +hair lightly with her hand as she passed him, that he might feel how +delighted she was to be able so to touch him, she went back to the door +of the bedroom on tiptoe, and, lifting the latch without a sound, put +in her head and listened. But the sick man had not stirred. His face +was still turned from her, as though he slept, and then, again closing +the door, she came back to her lover. + +"He is quite quiet," she said, whispering. + +"Does he suffer?" + +"I think not; he never complains. When he is awake he will sit with my +hand within his own, and now and again there is a little pressure." + +"And he says nothing?" + +"Very little; hardly a word now and then. When he does speak, it is of +his food." + +"He can eat, then?" + +"A morsel of jelly, or a little soup. But, Anton, I must tell you--I +tell you everything, you know--where do you think the things that he +takes have come from? But perhaps you know." + +"Indeed I do not." + +"They were sent to me by Rebecca Loth." + +"By Rebecca!" + +"Yes; by your friend Rebecca. She must be a good girl." + +"She is a good girl, Nina." + +"And you shall know everything; see--she sent me these," and Nina +showed her shoes; "and the very stockings I have on; I am not ashamed +that you should know." + +"Your want, then, has been so great as that?" + +"Father has been very poor. How should he not be poor when nothing is +earned? And she came here, and she saw it." + +"She sent you these things?" + +"Yes, Ruth came with them; there was a great basket with nourishing +food for father. It was very kind of her. But, Anton, Rebecca says that +I ought not to marry you, because of our religion. She says all the +Jews in Prague will become your enemies." + +"We will not stay in Prague; we will go elsewhere. There are other +cities besides Prague." + +"Where nobody will know us?" + +"Where we will not be ashamed to be known." + +"I told Rebecca that I would give you back all your promises, if you +wished me to do so." + +"I do not wish it. I will not give you back your promises, Nina." + +The enraptured girl again clung to him. "My own one," she said, "my +darling, my husband; when you speak to me like that, there is no girl +in Bohemia so happy as I am. Hush! I thought it was father. But no; +there is no sound. I do not mind what anyone says to me, as long as you +are kind." + +She was now sitting on his knee, and his arm was round her waist, and +she was resting her head against his brow; he had asked for no pardon, +but all the past was entirely forgiven; why should she even think of it +again? Some such thought was passing through her mind, when he spoke a +word, and it seemed as though a dagger had gone into her heart. "About +that paper, Nina?" Accursed document, that it should be brought again +between them to dash the cup of joy from her lips at such a moment as +this! She disengaged herself from his embrace, almost with a leap. +"Well! what about the paper?" she said. + +Simply this, that I would wish to know where it is." + +"And you think I have it?" + +"No; I do not think so; I am perplexed about it, hardly knowing what to +believe; but I do not think you have it; I think that you know nothing +of it." + +"Then why do you mention it again, reminding me of the cruel words +which you spoke before?" + +"Because it is necessary for both our sakes. I will tell you plainly +just what I have heard: your servant Souchey has been with me, and he +says that you have it." + +"Souchey!" + +"Yes; Souchey. It seemed strange enough to me, for I had always thought +him to be your friend." + +"Souchey has told you that I have got it?" + +"He says that it is in that desk," and the Jew pointed to the old +depository of all the treasures which Nina possessed. + +"He is a liar." + +"I think he is so, though I cannot tell why he should have so lied; but +I think he is a liar; I do not believe that it is there; but in such a +matter it is well that the fact should be put beyond all dispute. You +will not object to my looking into the desk?" He had come there with a +fixed resolve that he would demand to search among her papers. It was +very unpleasant to him, and he knew that his doing so would be painful +to her; but he told himself that it would be best for them both that he +should persevere. + +"Will you open it, or shall I?" he said; and as he spoke, she looked +into his face, and saw that all tenderness and love were banished from +it, and that the hard suspicious greed of the Jew was there instead. + +"I will not unlock it," she said; "there is the key, and you can do as +you please." Then she flung the key upon the table, and stood with her +back up against the wall, at some ten paces distant from the spot where +the desk stood. He took up the key, and placed it remorselessly in the +lock, and opened the desk, and brought all the papers forth on to the +table which stood in the middle of the room. + +"Are all my letters to be read?" she asked. + +"Nothing is to be read," he said. + +"Not that I should mind it; or at least I should have cared but little +ten minutes since. There are words there may make you think I have been +a fool, but a fool only too faithful to you." + +He made no answer to this, but moved the papers one by one carefully +till he came to a folded document larger than the others. Why dwell +upon it? Of course it was the deed for which he was searching. Nina, +when from her station by the wall she saw that there was something in +her lover's hands of which she had no knowledge--something which had +been in her own desk without her privity--came forward a step or two, +looking with all her eyes. But she did not speak till he had spoken; +nor did he speak at once. He slowly unfolded the document, and perused +the heading of it; then he refolded it, and placed it on the table, and +stood there with his hand upon it. + +"This," said he, "is the paper for which I am looking. Souchey, at any +rate, is not a liar. + +"How came it there?" said Nina, almost screaming in her agony. + +"That I know not; but Souchey is not a liar; nor were your aunt and her +servant liars in telling me that I should find it in your hands." + +"Anton," she said, "as the Lord made me, I knew not of it;" and she +fell on her knees before his feet. + +He looked down upon her, scanning every feature of her face and every +gesture of her body with hard inquiring eyes. He did not stoop to raise +her, nor, at the moment, did he say a word to comfort her. "And you +think that I stole it and put it there?" she said. She did not quail +before his eyes, but seemed, though kneeling before him, to look up +at him as though she would defy him. When first she had sunk upon the +ground, she had been weak, and wanted pardon though she was ignorant +of all offence; but his hardness, as he stood with his eyes fixed upon +her, had hardened her, and all her intellect, though not her heart, +was in revolt against him. "You think that I have robbed you?" + +"I do not know what to think," he said. + +Then she rose slowly to her feet, and, collecting the papers which he +had strewed upon the table, put them back slowly into the desk, and +locked it. + +"You have done with this now," she said, holding the key in her hand. + +"Yes; I do not want the key again." + +"And you have done with me also?" + +He paused a moment or two to collect his thoughts, and then he answered +her. "Nina, I would wish to think about this before I speak of it more +fully. What step I may next take I cannot say without considering it +much. I would not wish to pain you if I could help it." + +"Tell me at once what it is that you believe of me?" + +"I cannot tell you at once. Rebecca Loth is friendly to you, and I will +send her to you to-morrow." + +"I will not see Rebecca Loth," said Nina. "Hush! there is father's +voice. Anton, I have nothing more to say to you--nothing--nothing." +Then she left him, and went into her father's room. + +For some minutes she was busy by her father's bed, and went about her +work with a determined alacrity, as though she would wipe out of her +mind altogether, for the moment, any thought about her love and the Jew +and the document that had been found in her desk; and for a while she +was successful, with a consciousness, indeed, that she was under the +pressure of a terrible calamity which must destroy her, but still with +an outward presence of mind that supported her in her work. And her +father spoke to her, saying more to her than he had done for days past, +thanking her for her care, patting her hand with his, caressing her, +and bidding her still be of good cheer, as God would certainly be good +to one who had been so excellent a daughter. "But I wish, Nina, he were +not a Jew," he said suddenly. + +"Dear father, we will not talk of that now." + +"And he is a stern man, Nina." + +But on this subject she would speak no further, and therefore she left +the bedside for a moment, and offered him a cup, from which he drank. +When he had tasted it he forgot the matter that had been in his mind, +and said no further word as to Nina's engagement. + +As soon as she had taken the cup from her father's hand, she returned +to the parlour. It might be that Anton was still there. She had left +him in the room, and had shut her ears against the sound of his steps, +as though she were resolved that she would care nothing ever again for +his coming or going. He was gone, however, and the room was empty, and +she sat down in solitude, with her back against the wall, and began to +realise her position. He had told her that others accused her, but that +he had not suspected her. He had not suspected her, but he had thought +it necessary to search, and had found in her possession that which had +made her guilty in his eyes! + +She would never see him again--never willingly. It was not only that he +would never forgive her, but that she could never now be brought to +forgive him. He had stabbed her while her words of love were warmest in +his ear. His foul suspicions had been present to his mind even while +she was caressing him. He had never known what it was to give himself +up really to his love for one moment. While she was seated on his knee, +with her head pressed against his, his intellect had been busy with the +key and the desk, as though he were a policeman looking for a thief, +rather than a lover happy in the endearments of his mistress. Her vivid +mind pictured all this to her, filling her full with every incident of +the insult she had endured. No. There must be an end of it now. If she +could see her aunt that moment, or Lotta, or even Ziska, she would tell +them that it should be so. She would say nothing to Anton--no, not a +word again, though both might live for an eternity; but she would write +a line to Rebecca Loth, and tell the Jewess that the Jew was now free +to marry whom he would among his own people. And some of the words that +she thought would be fitting for such a letter occurred to her as she +sat there. "I know now that a Jew and a Christian ought not to love +each other as we loved. Their hearts are different." That was her +present purpose, but, as will be seen, she changed it afterwards. + +But ever and again as she strengthened her resolution, her thoughts +would run from her, carrying her back to the sweet rapture of some +moment in which the man had been gracious to her; and even while she +was struggling to teach herself to hate him, she would lean her head on +one side, as though by doing so she might once more touch his brow with +hers; and unconsciously she would put out her fingers, as though they +might find their way into his hand. And then she would draw them back +with a shudder, as though recoiling from the touch of an adder. + +Hours had passed over her before she began to think whence had come the +paper which Trendellsohn had found in her desk; and then, when the idea +of some fraud presented itself to her, that part of the subject did +not seem to her to be of great moment. It mattered but little who had +betrayed her. It might be Rebecca, or Souchey, or Ruth, or Lotta, or +all of them together. His love, his knowledge of her whom he loved, +should have carried him aloft out of the reach of any such poor trick +as that! What mattered it now who had stolen her key, and gone like +a thief to her desk, and laid this plot for her destruction? That he +should have been capable of being deceived by such a plot against her +was enough for her. She did not even speak to Souchey on the subject. +In the course of the afternoon he came across her as she moved about +the house, looking ashamed, not daring to meet her eyes, hardly able +to mutter a word to her. But she said not a syllable to him about her +desk. She could not bring herself to plead the cause between her and +her lover before her father's servant. + +The greater part of the day she passed by her father's bedside, but +whenever she could escape from the room, she seated herself in the +chair against the wall, endeavouring to make up her mind as to the +future. But there was much more of passion than of thought within her +breast. Never, never, never would she forgive him! Never again would +she sit on his knee caressing him. Never again would she even speak to +him. Nothing would she take from his hand, or from the hands of his +friends! Nor would she ever stoop to take aught from her aunt, or +from Ziska. They had triumphed over her. She knew not how. They had +triumphed over her, but the triumph should be very bitter to them-- +very bitter, if there was any touch of humanity left among them. + +Later in the day there came to be something of motion in the house. Her +father was worse in health, was going fast, and the doctor was again +there. And in these moments Souchey was with her, busy in the dying +man's room; and there were gentle kind words spoken between him and +Nina--as would be natural between such persons at such a time. He knew +that he had been a traitor, and the thought of his treachery was heavy +at his heart; but he perceived that no immediate punishment was to come +upon him, and it was some solace to him that he could be sedulous and +gentle and tender. And Nina, though she knew that the man had given his +aid in destroying her, bore with him not only without a hard word, but +almost without a severe thought. What did it matter what such a one as +Souchey could do? + +In the middle watches of that night the old man died, and Nina was +alone in the world. Souchey, indeed, was with her in the house, and +took from her all painful charge of the bed at which now her care could +no longer be of use. And early in the morning, while it was yet dark, +Lotta came down, and spoke words to her, of which she remembered +nothing. And then she knew that her aunt Sophie was there, and that +some offers were made to her at which she only shook her head. "Of +course you will come up to us," aunt Sophie said. And she made many +more suggestions, in answer to all of which Nina only shook her head. +Then her aunt and Nina, with Lotta's aid, fixed upon some plan--Nina +hardly knew what--as to the morrow. She did not care to know what it +was that they fixed. They were going to leave her alone for this day, +and the day would be very long. She told herself that it would be long +enough for her. + +The day was very long. When her aunt had left her she saw no one but +Souchey and an old woman who was busy in the bedroom which was now +closed. She had stood at the foot of the bed with her aunt, but after +that she did not return to the chamber. It was not only her father who, +for her, was now lying dead. She had loved her father well, but with a +love infinitely greater she had loved another; and that other one was +now dead to her also. What was there left to her in the world? The +charity of her aunt, and Lotta's triumph, and Ziska's love? No indeed! +She would bear neither the charity, nor the triumph, nor the love. One +other visitor came to the house that day. It was Rebecca Loth. But Nina +refused to see Rebecca. "Tell her," she said to Souchey, "that I cannot +see a stranger while my father is lying dead." How often did the idea +occur to her, throughout the terrible length of that day, that "he" +might come to her? But he came not. "So much the better," she said to +herself. "Were he to come, I would not see him." + +Late in the evening, when the little lamp in the room had been already +burning for some hour or two, she called Souchey to her. "Take this +note," she said, "to Anton Trendellsohn." + +"What! to-night?" said Souchey, trembling. + +"Yes, to-night. It is right that he should know that the house is now +his own, to do what he will with it." + +Then Souchey took the note, which was as follows: + + My father is dead, and the house will be empty to-morrow. + You may come and take your property without fear that you + will be troubled by NINA BALATKA. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +When Souchey left the room with the note, Nina went to the door and +listened. She heard him turn the lock below, and heard his step out +in the courtyard, and listened till she knew that he was crossing the +square. Then she ran quickly up to her own room, put on her hat and her +old worn cloak--the cloak which aunt Sophie had given her--and returned +once more into the parlour. She looked round the room with anxious +eyes, and seeing her desk, she took the key from her pocket and put +it into the lock. Then there came a thought into her mind as to the +papers; but she resolved that the thought need not arrest her, and +she left the key in the lock with the papers untouched. Then she went +to the door of her father's room, and stood there for a moment with her +hand upon the latch. She tried it ever so gently, but she found that +the door was bolted. The bolt, she knew, was on her side, and she could +withdraw it; but she did not do so; seeming to take the impediment as +though it were a sufficient bar against her entrance. Then she ran down +the stairs rapidly, opened the front door, and found herself out in the +night air. + +It was a cold windy night--not so late, indeed, as to have made her +feel that it was night, had she not come from the gloom of the dark +parlour, and the glimmer of her one small lamp. It was now something +beyond the middle of October, and at present it might be eight o'clock. +She knew that there would be moonlight, and she looked up at the sky; +but the clouds were all dark, though she could see that they were +moving along with the gusts of wind. It was very cold, and she drew her +cloak closer about her as she stepped out into the archway. + +Up above her, almost close to her in the gloom of the night, there was +the long colonnade of the palace, with the lights glimmering in the +windows as they always glimmered. She allowed herself for a moment to +think who might be there in those rooms--as she had so often thought +before. It was possible that Anton might be there. He had been there +once before at this time in the evening, as he himself had told her. +Wherever he might be, was he thinking of her? But if he thought of her, +he was thinking of her as one who had deceived him, who had tried to +rob him. Ah! the day would soon come in which he would learn that he +had wronged her. When that day should come, would his heart be bitter +within him? "He will certainly be unhappy for a time," she said; "but +he is hard and will recover, and she will console him. It will be +better so. A Christian and a Jew should never love each other." + +As she stood the clouds were lifted for a moment from the face of the +risen moon, and she could see by the pale clear light the whole facade +of the palace as it ran along the steep hillside above her. She could +count the arches, as she had so often counted them by the same light. +They seemed to be close over her head, and she stood there thinking of +them, till the clouds had again skurried across the moon's face, and +she could only see the accustomed glimmer in the windows. As her eye +fell upon the well-known black buildings around her, she found that it +was very dark. It was well for her that it should be so dark. She never +wanted to see the light again. + +There was a footstep on the other side of the square, and she paused +till it had passed away beyond the reach of her ears. Then she came out +from under the archway, and hurried across the square to the street +which led to the bridge. It was a dark gloomy lane, narrow, and +composed of high buildings without entrances, the sides of barracks and +old palaces. From the windows above her head on the left, she heard +the voices of soldiers. A song was being sung, and she could hear the +words. How cruel it was that other people should have so much of light- +hearted joy in the world, but that for her everything should have been +so terribly sad! The wind, as it met her, seemed to penetrate to her +bones. She was very cold! But it was useless to regard that. There was +no place on the face of the earth that would ever be warm for her. + +As she passed along the causeway leading to the bridge, a sound with +which she was very familiar met her ears. They were singing vespers +under the shadow of one of the great statues which are placed one over +each arch of the bridge. There was a lay friar standing by a little +table, on which there was a white cloth and a lighted lamp and a small +crucifix; and above the crucifix, supported against the stone-work of +the bridge, there was a picture of the Virgin with her Child, and there +was a tawdry wreath of paper flowers, so that by the light of the lamp +you could see that a little altar had been prepared. And on the table +there was a plate containing kreutzers, into which the faithful who +passed and took a part in the evening psalm of praise, might put an +offering for the honour of the Virgin, and for the benefit of the poor +friar and his brethren in their poor cloisters at home. Nina knew all +about it well. Scores of times had she stood on the same spot upon the +bridge, and sung the vesper hymn, ere she passed on to the Kleinseite. + +And now she paused and sang it once again. Around the table upon the +pavement there stood perhaps thirty or forty persons, most of them +children, and the remainder girls perhaps of Nina's age. And the friar +stood close by the table, leaning idly against the bridge, with his eye +wandering from the little plate with the kreutzers to the passers-by +who might possibly contribute. And ever and anon he with drawling +voice would commence some sentence of the hymn, and then the girls and +children would take it up, well knowing the accustomed words; and their +voices as they sang would sound sweetly across the waters, the loud +gurgling of which, as they ran beneath the arch, would be heard during +the pauses. + +And Nina stopped and sang. When she was a child she had sung there very +often, and the friar of those days would put his hand upon her head and +bless her, as she brought her small piece of tribute to his plate. Of +late, since she had been at variance with the Church by reason of the +Jew, she had always passed by rapidly, as though feeling that she had +no longer any right to take a part in such a ceremony. But now she had +done with the Jew, and surely she might sing the vesper song. So she +stopped and sang, remembering not the less as she sang, that that which +she was about to do, if really done, would make all such singing +unavailing for her. + +But then, perhaps, even yet it might not be done. Lotta's first +prediction, that the Jew would desert her, had certainly come true; +and Lotta's second prediction, that there would be nothing left for +her but to drown herself, seemed to her to be true also. She had left +the house in which her father's dead body was still lying, with this +purpose. Doubly deserted as she now was by lover and father, she could +live no longer. It might, however, be possible that that saint who was +so powerful over the waters might yet do something for her--might yet +interpose on her behalf, knowing, as he did, of course, that all idea +of marriage between her, a Christian, and her Jew lover had been +abandoned. At any rate she stood and sang the hymn, and when there +came the accustomed lull at the end of the verse, she felt in her +pocket for a coin, and, taking a piece of ten kreutzers, she stepped +quickly up to the plate and put it in. A day or two ago ten kreutzers +was an important portion of the little sum which she still had left in +hand, but now ten kreutzers could do nothing for her. It was at any +rate better that the friar should have it than that her money should +go with her down into the blackness of the river. Nevertheless she did +not give the friar all. She saw one girl whispering to another as she +stepped up to the table, and she heard her own name. "That is Nina +Balatka." And then there was an answer which she did not hear, but +which she was sure referred to the Jew. The girls looked at her with +angry eyes, and she longed to stop and explain to them that she was no +longer betrothed to the Jew. Then, perhaps, they would be gentle with +her, and she might yet hear a kind word spoken to her before she went. +But she did not speak to them. No; she would never speak to man or +woman again. What was the use of speaking now? No sympathy that she +could receive would go deep enough to give relief to such wounds as +hers. + +As she dropped her piece of money into the plate her eyes met those of +the friar, and she recognised at once a man whom she had known years +ago, at the same spot and engaged in the same work. He was old and +haggard, and thin, and grey, and very dirty; but there came a smile +over his face as he also recognised her. He could not speak to her, for +he had to take up a verse in the hymn, and drawl out the words which +were to set the crowd singing, and Nina had retired back again before +he was silent. But she knew that he had known her, and she almost felt +that she had found a friend who would be kind to her. On the morrow, +when inquiry would be made--and aunt Sophie would certainly be loud +in her inquiries--this friar would be able to give some testimony +respecting her. + +She passed on altogether across the bridge, in order that she might +reach the spot she desired without observation--and perhaps also with +some halting idea that she might thus postpone the evil moment. The +figure of St John Nepomucene rested on the other balustrade of the +bridge, and she was minded to stand for a while under its shadow. Now, +at Prague it is the custom that they who pass over the bridge shall +always take the right-hand path as they go; and she, therefore, in +coming from the Kleinseite, had taken that opposite to the statue of +the saint. She had thought of this, and had told herself that she would +cross the roadway in the middle of the bridge; but at that moment the +moon was shining brightly: and then, too, the night was long. Why need +she be in a hurry? + +At the further end of the bridge she stood a while in the shade of the +watch-tower, and looked anxiously around her. When last she had been +over in the Old Town, within a short distance of the spot where she now +stood, she had chanced to meet her lover. What if she should see him +now? She was sure that she would not speak to him. And yet she looked +very anxiously up the dark street, through the glimmer of the dull +lamps. First there came one man, and then another, and a third; and +she thought, as her eyes fell upon them, that the figure of each was +the figure of Anton Trendellsohn. But as they emerged from the darker +shadow into the light that was near, she saw that it was not so, and +she told herself that she was glad. If Anton were to come and find +her there, it might be that he would disturb her purpose. But yet she +looked again before she left the shadow of the tower. Now there was no +one passing in the street. There was no figure there to make her think +that her lover was coming either to save her or to disturb her. + +Taking the pathway on the other side, she turned her face again towards +the Kleinseite, and very slowly crept along under the balustrade of +the bridge. This bridge over the Moldau is remarkable in many ways, +but it is specially remarkable for the largeness of its proportions. It +is very long, taking its spring from the shore a long way before the +actual margin of the river; it is of a fine breadth: the side-walks to +it are high and massive; and the groups of statues with which it is +ornamented, though not in themselves of much value as works of art, +have a dignity by means of their immense size which they lend to the +causeway, making the whole thing noble, grand, and impressive. And +below, the Moldau runs with a fine, silent, dark volume of water--a +very sea of waters when the rains have fallen and the little rivers +have been full, though in times of drought great patches of ugly dry +land are to be seen in its half-empty bed. At the present moment there +were no such patches; and the waters ran by, silent, black, in great +volumes, and with unchecked rapid course. It was only by pausing +specially to listen to them that the passer-by could hear them as they +glided smoothly round the piers of the bridge. Nina did pause and did +hear them. They would have been almost less terrible to her, had the +sound been rougher and louder. + +On she went, very slowly. The moon, she thought, had disappeared +altogether before she reached the cross inlaid in the stone on the +bridge-side, on which she was accustomed to lay her fingers, in order +that she might share somewhat of the saint's power over the river. At +that moment, as she came up to it, the night was very dark. She had +calculated that by this time the light of the moon would have waned, +so that she might climb to the spot which she had marked for herself +without observation. She paused, hesitating whether she would put her +hand upon the cross. It could not at least do her any harm. It might +be that the saint would be angry with her, accusing her of hypocrisy; +but what would be the saint's anger for so small a thing amidst the +multitudes of charges that would be brought against her? For that which +she was going to do now there could be no absolution given. And perhaps +the saint might perceive that the deed on her part was not altogether +hypocritical--that there was something in it of a true prayer. He +might see this, and intervene to save her from the waters. So she put +the palm of her little hand full upon the cross, and then kissed it +heartily, and after that raised it up again till it rested on the foot +of the saint. As she stood there she heard the departing voices of the +girls and children singing the last verse of the vesper hymn, as they +followed the friar off the causeway of the bridge into the Kleinseite. + +She was determined that she would persevere. She had endured that which +made it impossible that she should recede, and had sworn to herself a +thousand times that she would never endure that which would have to be +endured if she remained longer in this cruel world. There would be no +roof to cover her now but the roof in the Windberg-gasse, beneath which +there was to her a hell upon earth. No; she would face the anger of +all the saints rather than eat the bitter bread which her aunt would +provide for her. And she would face the anger of all the saints rather +than fall short in her revenge upon her lover. She had given herself to +him altogether--for him she had been half-starved, when, but for him, +she might have lived as a favoured daughter in her aunt's house--for +him she had made it impossible to herself to regard any other man with +a spark of affection--for his sake she had hated her cousin Ziska-- +her cousin who was handsome, and young, and rich, and had loved her-- +feeling that the very idea that she could accept love from anyone but +Anton had been an insult to her. She had trusted Anton as though his +word had been gospel to her. She had obeyed him in everything, allowing +him to scold her as though she were already subject to his rule; and, +to speak the truth, she had enjoyed such treatment, obtaining from it +a certain assurance that she was already his own. She had loved him +entirely, had trusted him altogether, had been prepared to bear all +that the world could fling upon her for his sake, wanting nothing in +return but that he should know that she was true to him. + +This he had not known, nor had he been able to understand such truth. +It had not been possible to him to know it. The inborn suspicion of +his nature had broken out in opposition to his love, forcing her to +acknowledge to herself that she had been wrong in loving a Jew. He had +been unable not to suspect her of some vile scheme by which she might +possibly cheat him of his property, if at the last moment she should +not become his wife. She told herself that she understood it all now-- +that she could see into his mind, dark and gloomy as were its recesses. +She had wasted all her heart upon a man who had never even believed +in her; and would she not be revenged upon him? Yes, she would be +revenged, and she would cure the malady of her own love by the only +possible remedy within her reach. + +The statue of St John Nepomucene is a single figure, standing in +melancholy weeping posture on the balustrade of the bridge, without +any of that ponderous strength of wide-spread stone which belongs to +the other groups. This St John is always pictured to us as a thin, +melancholy, half-starved saint, who has had all the life washed out +of him by his long immersion. There are saints to whom a trusting +religious heart can turn, relying on their apparent physical +capabilities. St Mark, for instance, is always a tower of strength, +and St Christopher is very stout, and St Peter carries with him an +ancient manliness which makes one marvel at his cowardice when he +denied his Master. St Lawrence, too, with his gridiron, and St +Bartholomew with his flaying-knife and his own skin hanging over his +own arm, look as though they liked their martyrdom, and were proud of +it, and could be useful on an occasion. But this St John of the Bridges +has no pride in his appearance, and no strength in his look. He is a +mild, meek saint, teaching one rather by his attitude how to bear with +the malice of the waters, than offering any protection against their +violence. But now, at this moment, his aid was the only aid to which +Nina could look with any hope. She had heard of his rescuing many +persons from death amidst the current of the Moldau. Indeed she thought +that she could remember having been told that the river had no power to +drown those who could turn their minds to him when they were struggling +in the water. Whether this applied only to those who were in sight +of his statue on the bridge of Prague, or whether it was good in all +rivers of the world, she did not know. Then she tried to think whether +she had ever heard of any case in which the saint had saved one who +had--who had done the thing which she was now about to do. She was +almost sure that she had never heard of such a case as that. But, then, +was there not something special in her own case? Was not her suffering +so great, her condition so piteous, that the saint would be driven to +compassion in spite of the greatness of her sin? Would he not know that +she was punishing the Jew by the only punishment with which she could +reach him? She looked up into the saint's wan face, and fancied that +no eyes were ever so piteous, no brow ever so laden with the deep +suffering of compassion. But would this punishment reach the heart of +Anton Trendellsohn? Would he care for it? When he should hear that she +had--destroyed her own life because she could not endure the cruelty of +his suspicion, would the tidings make him unhappy? When last they had +been together he had told her, with all that energy which he knew so +well how to put into his words, that her love was necessary to his +happiness. "I will never release you from your promises," he had said, +when she offered to give him back his troth because of the ill-will of +his people. And she still believed him. Yes, he did love her. There was +something of consolation to her in the assurance that the strings of +his heart would be wrung when he should hear of this. If his bosom were +capable of agony, he would be agonised. + +It was very dark at this moment, and now was the time for her to climb +upon the stone-work and hide herself behind the drapery of the saint's +statue. More than once, as she had crossed the bridge, she had observed +the spot, and had told herself that if such a deed were to be done, +that would be the place for doing it. She had always been conscious, +since the idea had entered her mind, that she would lack the power to +step boldly up on to the parapet and go over at once, as the bathers do +when they tumble headlong into the stream that has no dangers for them. +She had known that she must crouch, and pause, and think of it, and +look at it, and nerve herself with the memory of her wrongs. Then, +at some moment in which her heart was wrung to the utmost, she would +gradually slacken her hold, and the dark, black, silent river should +take her. She climbed up into the niche, and found that the river was +very far from her, though death was so near to her and the fall would +be so easy. When she became aware that there was nothing between her +and the great void space below her, nothing to guard her, nothing left +to her in all the world to protect her, she retreated, and descended +again to the pavement. And never in her life had she moved with more +care, lest, inadvertently, a foot or a hand might slip, and she might +tumble to her doom against her will. + +When she was again on the pathway she remembered her note to Anton-- +that note which was already in his hands. What would he think of her if +she were only to threaten the deed, and then not perform it? And would +she allow him to go unpunished? Should he triumph, as he would do if +she were now to return to the house which she had told him she had +left? She clasped her hands together tightly, and pressed them first +to her bosom and then to her brow, and then again she returned to the +niche from which the fall into the river must be made. Yes, it was very +easy. The plunge might be taken at any moment. Eternity was before her, +and of life there remained to her but the few moments in which she +might cling there and think of what was coming. Surely she need not +begrudge herself a minute or two more of life. + +She was very cold, so cold that she pressed herself against the stone +in order that she might save herself from the wind that whistled round +her. But the water would be colder still than the wind, and when once +there she could never again be warm. The chill of the night, and the +blackness of the gulf before her, and the smooth rapid gurgle of the +dark moving mass of waters beneath, were together more horrid to her +imagination than even death itself. Thrice she released herself from +her backward pressure against the stone, in order that she might fall +forward and have done with it, but as often she found herself returning +involuntarily to the protection which still remained to her. It seemed +as though she could not fall. Though she would have thought that +another must have gone directly to destruction if placed where she was +crouching--though she would have trembled with agony to see anyone +perched in such danger--she appeared to be firm fixed. She must jump +forth boldly, or the river would not take her. Ah! what if it were so-- +that the saint who stood over her, and whose cross she had so lately +kissed, would not let her perish from beneath his feet? In these +moments her mind wandered in a maze of religious doubts and fears, and +she entertained, unconsciously, enough of doctrinal scepticism to found +a school of freethinkers. Could it be that God would punish her with +everlasting torments because in her agony she was driven to this as her +only mode of relief? Would there be no measuring of her sins against +her sorrows, and no account taken of the simplicity of her life? She +looked up towards heaven, not praying in words, but with a prayer in +her heart. For her there could be no absolution, no final blessing. The +act of her going would be an act of terrible sin. But God would know +all, and would surely take some measure of her case. He could save her +if He would, despite every priest in Prague. More than one passenger +had walked by while she was crouching in her niche beneath the statue-- +had passed by and had not seen her. Indeed, the night at present was so +dark, that one standing still and looking for her would hardly be able +to define her figure. And yet, dark as it was, she could see something +of the movement of the waters beneath her, some shimmer produced by the +gliding movement of the stream. Ah! she would go now and have done with +it. Every moment that she remained was but an added agony. + +Then, at that moment, she heard a voice on the bridge near her, and she +crouched close again, in order that the passenger might pass by without +noticing her. She did not wish that anyone should hear the splash of +her plunge, or be called on to make ineffectual efforts to save her. So +she would wait again. The voice drew nearer to her, and suddenly she +became aware that it was Souchey's voice. It was Souchey, and he was +not alone. It must be Anton who had come out with him to seek her, +and to save her. But no. He should have no such relief as that from +his coming sorrow. So she clung fast, waiting till they should pass, +but still leaning a little towards the causeway, so that, if it were +possible, she might see the figures as they passed. She heard the voice +of Souchey quite plain, and then she perceived that Souchey's companion +was a woman. Something of the gentleness of a woman's voice reached her +ear, but she could distinguish no word that was spoken. The steps were +now very close to her, and with terrible anxiety she peeped out to see +who might be Souchey's companion. She saw the figure, and she knew at +once by the hat that it was Rebecca Loth. They were walking fast, and +were close to her now. They would be gone in an instant. + +On a sudden, at the very moment that Souchey and Rebecca were in the +act of passing beneath the feet of the saint, the clouds swept by from +off the disc of the waning moon, and the three faces were looking at +each other in the clear pale light of the night. Souchey started back +and screamed. Rebecca leaped forward and put the grasp of her hand +tight upon the skirt of Nina's dress, first one hand and then the +other, and, pressing forward with her body against the parapet, she got +a hold also of Nina's foot. She perceived instantly what was the girl's +purpose, but, by God's blessing on her efforts, there should be no cold +form found in the river that night; or, if one, then there should be +two. Nina kept her hold against the figure, appalled, dumbfounded, awe- +stricken, but still with some inner consciousness of salvation that +comforted her. Whether her life was due to the saint or to the Jewess +she knew not, but she acknowledged to herself silently that death was +beyond her reach, and she was grateful. + +"Nina," said Rebecca. Nina still crouched against the stone, with her +eyes fixed on the other girl's face; but she was unable to speak. The +clouds had again obscured the moon, and the air was again black, but +the two now could see each other in the darkness, or feel that they did +so. "Nina, Nina--why are you here?" + +"I do not know," said Nina, shivering. + +"For the love of God take care of her," said Souchey, "or she will be +over into the river." + +"She cannot fall now," said Rebecca. "Nina, will you not come down to +me? You are very cold. Come down, and I will warm you." + +"I am very cold," said Nina. Then gradually she slid down into +Rebecca's arms, and was placed sitting on a little step immediately +below the figure of St John. Rebecca knelt by her side, and Nina's head +fell upon the shoulder of the Jewess. Then she burst into the violence +of hysterics, but after a moment or two a flood of tears relieved her. + +"Why have you come to me?" she said. "Why have you not left me alone?" + +"Dear Nina, your sorrows have been too heavy for you to bear." + +"Yes; they have been very heavy." + +"We will comfort you, and they shall be softened." + +"I do not want comfort. I only want to--to--to go." + +While Rebecca was chafing Nina's hands and feet, and tying a +handkerchief from off her own shoulders round Nina's neck, Souchey +stood over them, not knowing what to propose. "Perhaps we had better +carry her back to the old house," he said. + +"I will not be carried back," said Nina. + +"No, dear; the house is desolate and cold. You shall not go there. You +shall come to our house, and we will do for you the best we can there, +and you shall be comfortable. There is no one there but mother, and she +is kind and gracious. She will understand that your father has died, +and that you are alone." + +Nina, as she heard this, pressed her head and shoulders close against +Rebecca's body. As it was not to be allowed to her to escape from +all her troubles, as she had thought to do, she would prefer the +neighbourhood of the Jews to that of any Christians. There was no +Christian now who would say a kind word to her. Rebecca spoke to her +very kindly, and was soft and gentle with her. She could not go where +she would be alone. Even if left to do so, all physical power would +fail her. She knew that she was weak as a child is weak, and that +she must submit to be governed. She thought it would be better to be +governed by Rebecca Loth at the present moment than by anyone else whom +she knew. Rebecca had spoken of her mother, and Nina was conscious of +a faint wish that there had been no such person in her friend's house; +but this was a minor trouble, and one which she could afford to +disregard amidst all her sorrows. How much more terrible would have +been her fate had she been carried away to aunt Sophie's house! "Does +he know?" she said, whispering the question into Rebecca's ear. + +"Yes, he knows. It was he who sent me." Why did he not come himself? +That question flashed across Nina's mind, and it was present also to +Rebecca. She knew that it was the question which Nina, within her +heart, would silently ask. "I was there when the note came," said +Rebecca, "and he thought that a woman could do more than a man. I +am so glad he sent me--so very glad. Shall we go, dear?" + +Then Nina rose from her seat, and stood up, and began to move slowly. +Her limbs were stiff with cold, and at first she could hardly walk; but +she did not feel that she would be unable to make the journey. Souchey +came to her side, but she rejected his arm petulantly. "Do not let him +come," she said to Rebecca. "I will do whatever you tell me; I will +indeed." Then the Jewess said a word or two to the old man, and he +retreated from Nina's side, but stood looking at her till she was out +of sight. Then he returned home to the cold desolate house in the +Kleinseite, where his only companion was the lifeless body of his old +master. But Souchey, as he left his young mistress, made no complaint +of her treatment of him. He knew that he had betrayed her, and brought +her close upon the step of death's door. He could understand it all +now. Indeed he had understood it all since the first word that Anton +Trendellsohn had spoken after reading Nina's note. + +"She will destroy herself," Anton had said. + +"What! Nina, my mistress?" said Souchey. Then, while Anton had called +Rebecca to him, Souchey had seen it all. "Master," he said, when the +Jew returned to him, "it was Lotta Luxa who put the paper in the desk. +Nina knew nothing of its being there." Then the Jew's heart sank coldly +within him, and his conscience became hot within his bosom. He lost +nothing of his presence of mind, but simply hurried Rebecca upon her +errand. "I shall see you again to-night," he said to the girl. + +"You must come then to our house," said Rebecca. "It may be that I +shall not be able to leave it." + +Rebecca, as she led Nina back across the bridge, at first said nothing +further. She pressed the other girl's arm within her own, and there +was much of tenderness and regard in the pressure. She was silent, +thinking, perhaps, that any speech might be painful to her companion. +But Nina could not restrain herself from a question, "What will they +say of me?" + +"No one, dear, shall say anything." + +"But he knows." + +"I know not what he knows, but his knowledge, whatever it be, is only +food for his love. You may be sure of his love, Nina--quite sure, quite +sure. You may take my word for that. If that has been your doubt, you +have doubted wrongly." + +Not all the healing medicines of Mercury, not wine from the flasks of +the gods, could have given Nina life and strength as did those words +from her rival's lips. All her memory of his offences against her had +again gone in her thought of her own sin. Would he forgive her and +still love her? Yes; she was a weak woman--very weak; but she had that +one strength which is sufficient to atone for all feminine weakness-- +she could really love; or rather, having loved, she could not cease +to love. Anger had no effect on her love, or was as water thrown on +blazing coal, which makes it burn more fiercely. Ill usage could not +crush her love. Reason, either from herself or others, was unavailing +against it. Religion had no power over it. Her love had become her +religion to Nina. It took the place of all things both in heaven and +earth. Mild as she was by nature, it made her a tigress to those who +opposed it. It was all the world to her. She had tried to die, because +her love had been wounded; and now she was ready to live again because +she was told that her lover--the lover who had used her so cruelly-- +still loved her. She pressed Rebecca's arm close into her side. "I +shall be better soon," she said. Rebecca did not doubt that Nina would +soon be better, but of her own improvement she was by no means so +certain. + +They walked on through the narrow crooked streets into the Jews' +quarter, and soon stood at the door of Rebecca's house. The latch was +loose, and they entered, and they found a lamp ready for them on the +stairs. "Had you not better come to my bed for to-night?" said Rebecca. + +"Only that I should be in your way, I should be so glad." + +"You shall not be in my way. Come, then. But first you must eat and +drink." Though Nina declared that she could not eat a morsel, and +wanted no drink but water, Rebecca tended upon her, bringing the food +and wine that were in truth so much needed. "And now, dear, I will help +you to bed. You are yet cold, and there you will be warm." + +"But when shall I see him?" + +"Nay, how can I tell? But, Nina, I will not keep him from you. He shall +come to you here when he chooses--if you choose it also." + +"I do choose it--I do choose it," said Nina, sobbing in her weakness-- +conscious of her weakness. + +While Rebecca was yet assisting Nina--the Jewess kneeling as the +Christian sat on the bedside--there came a low rap at the door, and +Rebecca was summoned away. "I shall be but a moment," she said, and she +ran down to the front door. + +"Is she here?" said Anton, hoarsely. + +"Yes, she is here." + +"The Lord be thanked! And can I not see her?" + +"You cannot see her now, Anton. She is very weary, and all but in bed." + +"To-morrow I may come?" + +"Yes, to-morrow." + +"And, tell me, how did you find her? Where did you find her?" + +"To-morrow Anton, you shall be told--whatever there is to tell For to- +night, is it not enough for you to know that she is with me? She will +share my bed, and I will be as a sister to her." + +Then Anton spoke a word of warm blessing to his friend, and went his +way home. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Early in the following year, while the ground was yet bound with frost, +and the great plains of Bohemia were still covered with snow, a Jew and +his wife took their leave of Prague, and started for one of the great +cities of the west. They carried with them but little of the outward +signs of wealth, and but few of those appurtenances of comfort which +generally fall to the lot of brides among the rich; the man, however, +was well to do in the world, and was one who was not likely to bring +his wife to want. It need hardly be said that Anton Trendellsohn was +the man, and that Nina Balatka was his wife. + +On the eve of their departure, Nina and her friend the Jewess had said +farewell to each other. "You will write to me from Frankfort?" said +Rebecca. + +"Indeed I will," said Nina; "and you, you will write to me often, very +often?" + +As often as you will wish it." + +"I shall wish it always," said Nina; and you can write; you are clever. +You know how to make your words say what there is in your heart." + +"But you have been able to make your face more eloquent than any +words." + +"Rebecca, dear Rebecca! Why was it that he did not love such a one as +you rather than me? You are more beautiful." + +"But he at least has not thought so." + +"And you are so clever and so good; and you could have given him help +which I never can give him." + +"He does not want help. He wants to have by his side a sweet soft +nature that can refresh him by its contrast to his own. He has done +right to love you, and to make you his wife; only, I could wish that +you were as we are in religion." To this Nina made no answer. She could +not promise that she would change her religion, but she thought that +she would endeavour to do so. She would do so if the saints would let +her. "I am glad you are going away, Nina," continued Rebecca. "It will +be better for him and better for you." + +"Yes, it will be better." + +"And it will be better for me also." Then Nina threw herself on +Rebecca's neck and wept. She could say nothing in words in answer to +that last assertion. If Rebecca really loved the man who was now the +husband of another, of course it would be better that they should be +apart. But Nina, who knew herself to be weak, could not understand that +Rebecca, who was so strong, should have loved as she had loved. + +"If you have daughters," said Rebecca, "and if he will let you name one +of them after me, I shall be glad." Nina swore that if God gave her +such a treasure as a daughter, that child should be named after the +friend who had been so good to her. + +There were also a few words of parting between Anton Trendellsohn and +the girl who had been brought up to believe that she was to be his +wife; but though there was friendship in them, there was not much of +tenderness. "I hope you will prosper where you are going," said +Rebecca, as she gave the man her hand. + +"I do not fear but that I shall prosper, Rebecca." + +"No; you will become rich, and perhaps great--as great, that is, as we +Jews can make ourselves." + +"I hope you will live to hear that the Jews are not crushed elsewhere +as they are here in Prague." + +"But, Anton, you will not cease to love the old city where your fathers +and friends have lived so long?" + +"I will never cease to love those, at least, whom I leave behind me. +Farewell, Rebecca;" and he attempted to draw her to him as though +he would kiss her. But she withdrew from him, very quietly, with no +mark of anger, with no ostentation of refusal. "Farewell," she said. +"Perhaps we shall see each other after many years." + +Trendellsohn, as he sat beside his young wife in the post-carriage +which took them out of the city, was silent till he had come nearly to +the outskirts of the town; and then he spoke. "Nina," he said, "I am +leaving behind me, and for ever, much that I love well." + +"And it is for my sake," she said. "I feel it daily, hourly. It makes +me almost wish that you had not loved me." + +"But I take with me that which I love infinitely better than all that +Prague contains. I will not, therefore, allow myself a regret. Though I +should never see the old city again, I will always look upon my going +as a good thing done." Nina could only answer him by caressing his +hand, and by making internal oaths that her very best should be done in +every moment of her life to make him contented with the lot he had +chosen. + +There remains very little of the tale to be told--nothing, indeed, of +Nina's tale--and very little to be explained. Nina slept in peace at +Rebecca's house that night on which she had been rescued from death +upon the bridge--or, more probably, lay awake anxiously thinking what +might yet be her fate. She had been very near to death--so near that +she shuddered, even beneath the warmth of the bed-clothes, and with the +protection of her friend so close to her, as she thought of those long +dreadful minutes she had passed crouching over the river at the feet +of the statue. She had been very near to death, and for a while could +hardly realise the fact of her safety. She knew that she was glad +to have been saved; but what might come next was, at that moment, +all vague, uncertain, and utterly beyond her own control She hardly +ventured to hope more than that Anton Trendellsohn would not give her +up to Madame Zamenoy. If he did, she must seek the river again, or some +other mode of escape from that worst of fates. But Rebecca had assured +her of Anton's love, and in Rebecca's words she had a certain, though a +dreamy, faith. The night was long, but she wished it to be longer. To +be there and to feel that she was warm and safe was almost happiness +for her after the misery she had endured. + +On the next day, and for a day or two afterwards, she was feverish and +she did not rise, but Rebecca's mother came to her, and Ruth--and at +last Anton himself. She never could quite remember how those few days +were passed, or what was said, or how it came to be arranged that she +was to stay for a while in Rebecca's house; that she was to stay there +for a long while--till such time as she should become a wife, and +leave it for a house of her own. She never afterwards had any clear +conception, though she very often thought of it all, how it came to be +a settled thing among the Jews around her, that she was to be Anton's +wife, and that Anton was to take her away from Prague. But she knew +that her lover's father had come to her, and that he had been kind, +and that there had been no reproach cast upon her for the wickedness +she had attempted. Nor was it till she found herself going to mass all +alone on the third Sunday that she remembered that she was still a +Christian, and that her lover was still a Jew. "It will not seem so +strange to you when you are away in another place," Rebecca said to her +afterwards. "It will be good for both of you that you should be away +from Prague." + +Nor did Nina hear much of the attempts which the Zamenoys made to +rescue her from the hands of the Jews. Anton once asked her very +gravely whether she was quite certain that she did not wish to see +her aunt. "Indeed, I am," said Nina, becoming pale at the idea of +the suggested meeting. "Why should I see her? She has always been +cruel to me." Then Anton explained to her that Madame Zamenoy had made +a formal demand to see her niece, and had even lodged with the police a +statement that Nina was being kept in durance in the Jews' quarter; but +the accusation was too manifestly false to receive attention even when +made against a Jew, and Nina had reached an age which allowed her to +choose her own friends without interposition from the law. "Only," said +Anton, "it is necessary that you should know your own mind." + +"I do know it," said Nina, eagerly. + +And she saw Madame Zamenoy no more, nor her uncle Karil, nor her cousin +Ziska. Though she lived in the same city with them for three months +after the night on which she had been taken to Rebecca's house, she +never again was brought into contact with her relations. Lotta she once +saw, when walking in the street with Ruth; and Lotta too saw her, and +endeavoured to address her; but Nina fled, to the great delight of +Ruth, who ran with her; and Lotta Luxa was left behind at the street +corner. + +I do not know that Nina ever had a more clearly-defined idea of the +trick that Lotta had played upon her, than was conveyed to her by the +sight of the deed as it was taken from her desk, and the knowledge that +Souchey had put her lover upon the track. She soon learned that she was +acquitted altogether by Anton, and she did not care for learning more. +Of course there had been a trick. Of course there had been deceit. Of +course her aunt and Lotta Luxa and Ziska, who was the worst of them +all, had had their hands in it! But what did it signify? They had +failed, and she had been successful. Why need she inquire farther? + +But Souchey, who repented himself thoroughly of his treachery, spoke +his mind freely to Lotta Luxa. "No," said he, "not if you had ten times +as many florins, and were twice as clever, for you nearly drove me to +be the murderer of my mistress." + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, NINA BALATKA *** + +This file should be named nnblt10.txt or nnblt10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, nnblt11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, nnblt10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/nnblt10.zip b/old/nnblt10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7f5ec71 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/nnblt10.zip diff --git a/old/nnblt10h.htm b/old/nnblt10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ad1a73b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/nnblt10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8676 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Nina Balatka, by Anthony Trollope</title> +<meta HTTP-EQUIV="content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> +<style type="text/css"> + body {background:#FFF8F0; + color:black; + font-family:Times New Roman; + font-size:12pt; + margin-top:100; + margin-left:15%; + margin-right:15%;} + p {text-indent: 4% } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + pre {font-size:10pt;} + +</style> + +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook of<br> + Nina Balatka, by Anthony Trollope</h1> + +<pre> +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Nina Balatka + +Author: Anthony Trollope + +Release Date: September, 2005 [EBook #8897] +[This file was first posted on August 26, 2003] +[Most recently updated: September 25, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: iso-8859-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, NINA BALATKA *** + + + + +E-text prepared by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D. + + + +</pre> +<hr> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h1>NINA BALATKA</h1> +<h2>by +<br> +<br> +ANTHONY TROLLOPE</h2> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>INTRODUCTION</h2> +</center> + +<p>Anthony Trollope was an established novelist of great renown when <i>Nina +Balatka</i> was published in 1866, twenty years after his first novel. +Except for <i>La Vendée</i>, his third novel, set in France during the +Revolution, all his previous works were set in England or Ireland and +dealt with the upper levels of society: the nobility and the landed +gentry (wealthy or impoverished), and a few well-to-do merchants — people +several strata above the social levels of the characters popularized by +his contemporary Dickens. Most of Trollope's early novels were set in +the countryside or in provincial towns, with occasional forays into +London. The first of his political novels, <i>Can You Forgive Her</i>, dealing +with the Pallisers was published in 1864, two years before <i>Nina</i>. By the +time he began writing <i>Nina</i>, shortly after a tour of Europe, Trollope +was a master at chronicling the habits, foibles, customs, and ways of +life of his chosen subjects. + +<p><i>Nina Balatka</i> is, on the surface, a love story — not an unusual theme for +Trollope. Romance and courtship were woven throughout all his previous +works, often with two, three, or even more pairs of lovers per novel. +Most of his heroes and heroines, after facing numerous hurdles, often +of their own making, were eventually happily united by the next-to-last +chapter. A few were doomed to disappointment (Johnny Eames never won +the heart of Lily Dale through two of the "Barsetshire" novels), but +marital bliss — or at least the prospect of bliss — was the usual outcome. +Even so, the reader of Trollope soon notices his analytical description +of Victorian courtship and marriage. In the circles of Trollope's +characters, only the wealthy could afford to marry for love; those +without wealth had to marry for money, sometimes with disastrous +consequences. By the time of <i>Nina</i>, Trollope's best exploration of +this subject was the marriage between Plantagenet Palliser and Lady +Glencora M'Cluskie, the former a cold fish and the latter a hot-blooded +heiress in love with a penniless scoundrel (<i>Can You Forgive Her?</i> +1865). Yet to come was the disastrous marriage of intelligent Lady +Laura Standish to the wealthy but old-maidish Robert Kennedy in <i>Phineas +Finn</i> and its sequel. + +<p>But <i>Nina Balatka</i> is different from Trollope's previous novels in four +respects. First, Trollope was accustomed to include in his novels his +own witty editorial comments about various subjects, often paragraphs or +even several pages long. No such comments are found in <i>Nina</i>. Second, +the story is set in Prague instead of the British isles. Third, the +hero and heroine are already in love and engaged to one another at the +opening; we are not told any details about their falling in love. The +hero, Anton Trendellsohn is a successful businessman in his +mid-thirties — not the typical Trollopian hero in his early twenties, still +finding himself, and besotted with love. Anton is rather cold as lovers +go, seldom whispering words of endearment to Nina. But it is the fourth +difference which really sets this novel apart and makes it both a +masterpiece and an enigma. That fourth — and most important — difference +is clearly stated in the remarkable opening sentence of the novel: + + <blockquote><i> + Nina Balatka was a maiden of Prague, born of Christian parents, + and herself a Christian — but she loved a Jew; and this is her + story. + </i></blockquote> + +<p>Marriage — even worse, love — between a Christian and a Jew would have +been unacceptable to Victorian British readers. Blatant anti-semitism +was prevalent — perhaps ubiquitous — among the upper classes. + +<p>Let us consider the origins of this anti-semitism. Jews were first +allowed into England by William the Conqueror. For a while they +prospered, largely through money-lending, an occupation to which +they were restricted. In the 13th century a series of increasingly +oppressive laws and taxes reduced the Jewish community to poverty, and +the Jews were expelled from England in 1290. They were not allowed to +return until 1656, when Oliver Cromwell authorized their entry over +the objections of British merchants. Legal protection for the Jews +increased gradually; even the "Act for the More Effectual Suppressing +of Blasphemy and Profaneness" (1698) recognized the practice of Judaism +as legal, but there were probably only a few hundred Jews in the entire +country. The British Jewish community grew gradually, and efforts to +emancipate the Jews were included in various "Reform Acts" in the first +half of the 19th century, although many failed to become law. Gradually +Jews were admitted to the bar and other professions. Full citizenship +and rights, including the right to sit in Parliament, were granted in +1858 — only seven years before Trollope began writing <i>Nina Balatka</i>. By +this time wealthy Jewish families were growing in number. This upward +mobility and increasing economic and political power no doubt made the +British upper classes envious and resentful, fuelling anti-semitism. + +<p>Trollope chose to have <i>Nina</i> published anonymously in <i>Blackwood's +Magazine</i> for reasons which he described in his autobiography: + + <blockquote><i> + From the commencement of my success as a writer . . . I had + always felt an injustice in literary affairs which had never + afflicted me or even suggested itself to me while I was + unsuccessful. It seemed to me that a name once earned carried + with it too much favour . . . The injustice which struck me did + not consist in that which was withheld from me, but in that which + was given to me. I felt that aspirants coming up below me might + do work as good as mine, and probably much better work, and yet + fail to have it appreciated. In order to test this, I determined + to be such an aspirant myself, and to begin a course of novels + anonymously, in order that I might see whether I could succeed in + obtaining a second identity, — whether as I had made one mark by + such literary ability as I possessed, I might succeed in doing so + again.</i> <a href="#1">[1]</a> + </blockquote> + + + + +<p>Why did Trollope start his "new" career with a novel whose central theme +was a subject of distaste at best — more likely revulsion — to the vast +majority of the reading public? Perhaps the nature of the novel itself +led him to consider publishing it anonymously, although we know he was +not averse to controversial subjects. In his first book, <i>The Macdermots +of Ballycloran</i>, which he thought had the best plot of all his novels, +the principal female character is seduced by a scoundrel and dies giving +birth to an illegitimate child. + +<p>Certainly <i>Nina</i> was well-suited for the experiment because of it's +different setting and subject matter. Perhaps further to disguise his +authorship, Trollope wrote <i>Nina</i> in a style of prose that reads almost +like a translation from a foreign language. + +<p>The experiment did not last long enough to test Trollope's hypothesis. +Mr. Hutton, critic for the <i>Spectator</i>, recognized Trollope as the author +and so stated in his review. Trollope did not deny the accusation. + +<p>One cannot discuss <i>Nina Balatka</i> without addressing the question, was +Trollope himself anti-semitic? A careful reading of his works does not +provide a clear answer. Jews appear in some of his books and are referred +to in others, often as disreputable characters or money-lenders. They are +seldom mentioned by his Christian characters with respect, probably +realistically reflecting the sentiments of the classes he wrote about. +Some of his greatest villains in his later novels — Melmotte in <i>The Way +We Live Now</i> (1875) and Lopez in <i>The Prime Minister</i> (1876) — are rumored +to be Jewish, but Trollope never unequivocally identifies them as Jewish. +Perhaps his Christian characters expect them to be Jewish because they +are foreigners and villains. + +<p>However, if one ignores the dialogue of his characters, even the +descriptive and editorial comments by Trollope himself at first seem +anti-semitic. He consistently uses "Jew" as a pejorative adjective +instead of "Jewish." His descriptions of the appearance of Jewish +characters are usually unflattering and stereotypical. Even Anton +Trendellsohn, the hero of <i>Nina Balatka</i>, is described as follows: + + <blockquote><i> + To those who know the outward types of his race there could be no + doubt that Anton Trendellsohn was a very Jew among Jews. He was + certainly a handsome man, not now very young, having reached some + year certainly in advance of thirty, and his face was full of + intellect. He was slightly made, below the middle height, but was + well made in every limb, with small feet and hands, and small + ears, and a well-turned neck. He was very dark — dark as a man can + be, and yet show no sign of colour in his blood. No white man + could be more dark and swarthy than Anton Trendellsohn. His eyes, + however, which were quite black, were very bright. His jet-black + hair, as it clustered round his ears, had in it something of a + curl. Had it been allowed to grow, it would almost have hung in + ringlets; but it was worn very short, as though its owner were + jealous even of the curl. Anton Trendellsohn was decidedly a + handsome man; but his eyes were somewhat too close together in his + face, and the bridge of his aquiline nose was not sharply cut, as + is mostly the case with such a nose on a Christian face. The olive + oval face was without doubt the face of a Jew, and the mouth was + greedy, and the teeth were perfect and bright, and the movement of + the man's body was the movement of a Jew. + </i></blockquote> + +<p>This is not the typical description of the romantic hero of a Victorian +novel. Even so, Trollope's description of Anton is less derogatory than +his description of Ezekiel Brehgert, a character in a later novel, <i>The +Way We Live Now</i>: + + <blockquote><i> + He was a fat, greasy man, good-looking in a certain degree, about + fifty, with hair dyed black, and beard and moustache dyed a dark + purple colour. The charm of his face consisted in a pair of very + bright black eyes, which were, however, set too near together in + his face for the general delight of Christians. He was stout fat + all over rather than corpulent and had that look of command in his + face which has become common to master-butchers, probably by long + intercourse with sheep and oxen. + </i></blockquote> + +<p>The case for Trollope being anti-semitic is harder to support, however, +when one considers the behavior of his Jewish characters. Brehgert, +whose physical description above is stereotypic, is one of the few +characters in <i>The Way We Live Now</i> whose actions are completely +honorable. Trollope wrote 16 novels before <i>Nina Balatka</i>; only two of +those contain Jewish characters. The first, who plays a minor role in +<i>Orley Farm</i> (1862), is Soloman Aram, an attorney — a Victorian Rumpole + — known for defending the accused at the Old Bailey. His skill is needed +to defend Lady Mason against a charge of perjury, much to the distaste +of her Christian advisors. He acts with dignity and shows great +consideration for the personal comfort of Lady Mason during her trial. +The second Jewish character in Trollope's novels was Mr. Hart, a London +tailor who runs for a seat in Parliament in <i>Rachel Ray</i> (1863). This +served no purpose in the plot; the situation probably was included +because legislation to allow Jews to serve in Parliament had been +passed only five years before, and the issue was still one of public +discussion. Mr. Hart's appearance is brief; he speaks only one or +two lines, and the reader is not told enough about him to judge his +character. Trollope describes him thus: + + <blockquote><i> + . . . and then the Jewish hero, the tailor himself, came among + them, and astonished their minds by the ease and volubility of his + speeches. He did not pronounce his words with any of those soft + slushy Judaic utterances by which they had been taught to believe + he would disgrace himself. His nose was not hookey, with any + especial hook, nor was it thicker at the bridge than was becoming. + He was a dapper little man, with bright eyes, quick motion, ready + tongue, and a very new hat. It seemed that he knew well how to + canvass. He had a smile and a good word for all — enemies as well + as friends. + </i></blockquote> + +<p>In that novel, Trollope, himself, comments on prejudice and bigotry: + + <blockquote><i> + . . . Mrs. Ray, in her quiet way, expressed much joy that Mr. + Comfort's son-in-law should have been successful, and that + Baslehurst should not have disgraced itself by any connection + with a Jew. To her it had appeared monstrous that such a one + should have been even permitted to show himself in the town as a + candidate for its representation. To such she would have denied + all civil rights, and almost all social rights. For a true spirit + of persecution one should always go to a woman; and the milder, + the sweeter, the more loving, the more womanly the woman, the + stronger will be that spirit within her. Strong love for the thing + loved necessitates strong hatred for the thing hated, and thence + comes the spirit of persecution. They in England who are now + keenest against the Jews, who would again take from them rights + that they have lately won, are certainly those who think most of + the faith of a Christian. The most deadly enemies of the Roman + Catholics are they who love best their religion as Protestants. + When we look to individuals we always find it so, though it + hardly suits us to admit as much when we discuss these subjects + broadly. To Mrs. Ray it was wonderful that a Jew should have been + entertained in Baslehurst as a future member for the borough, and + that he should have been admitted to speak aloud within a few + yards of the church tower! + </i></blockquote> + +<p><i>Nina Balatka</i> presents a sharp contrast between the behaviors of the +Jewish and Christian characters. Nina and her father Josef Balatka +live on the edge of poverty; he was cheated out of his business by his +Christian brother-in-law, who is now wealthy. Josef's only source of +money was to sell his house to Anton Trendellsohn's father, who for many +years has allowed Josef and Nina to remain in the house without paying +any rent. Nina's Christian relatives use every form of deceit in their +attempt to turn Anton against Nina. Nina's Aunt Sophie spews invective +in every direction. She tells Nina, "Impudent girl! — brazen-faced, +impudent, bad girl! Do you not know that you would bring disgrace upon +us all?" To Nina's father she says, "Tell me that at once, Josef, +that I may know. Has she your sanction for — for — for this accursed +abomination?" To her husband she says, "Oh, I hate them! I do hate them! +Anything is fair against a Jew." And during a meeting with Anton she +exclaims, "How dares he come here to talk of his love? It is filthy — it +is worse than filthy — it is profane." + +<p>Anton's family also opposes the marriage, but Anton's father's behavior +toward Nina is in sharp contrast to that of her aunt: + + <blockquote><i> + The old man's heart was softened towards her. He could not bring + himself to say a word to her of direct encouragement, but he + kissed her before she went, telling her that she was a good girl, + and bidding her have no care as to the house in the Kleinseite. As + long as he lived, and her father, her father should not be + disturbed. + </i></blockquote> + +<p>Anton, being more a businessman than a lover, at times behaves +insensitively toward Nina. Otherwise, throughout the novel, the Jewish +characters act with honesty and kindness. Even the Jewish maiden who +wants to marry Anton does not scheme to break up his engagement to Nina +but rather befriends Nina and eventually saves her life. One has to +wonder whether Trollope intended this contrast to induce his readers to +reconsider their prejudices. Consider his perception of his duty as a +writer: + + <blockquote><i> + . . . And the criticism [of my work offered by Hawthorne], + whether just or unjust, describes with wonderful accuracy the + purport that I have ever had in view in my writing. I have always + desired to 'hew out some lump of the earth', and to make men and + women walk upon it just as they do walk here among us, — with not + more of excellence, nor with exaggerated baseness, — so that my + readers might recognise human beings like to themselves, and not + feel themselves to be carried away among gods or demons. If I + could do this, then I thought I might succeed in impregnating the + mind of the novel-reader with a feeling that honesty is the best + policy; that truth prevails while falsehood fails; that a girl + will be loved as she is pure, and sweet, and unselfish; that a man + will be honoured as he is true, and honest, and brave of heart; + that things meanly done are ugly and odious, and things nobly done + beautiful and gracious. . . There are many who would laugh at the + idea of a novelist teaching either virtue or nobility, — those, for + instance, who regard the reading of novels as a sin, and those + also who think it to be simply an idle pastime. They look upon the + tellers of stories as among the tribe of those who pander to the + wicked pleasures of a wicked world. I have regarded my art from so + different a point of view that I have ever thought of myself as a + preacher of sermons, and my pulpit as one which I could make both + salutary and agreeable to my audience. I do believe that no girl + has risen from the reading of my pages less modest than she was + before, and that some may have learned from them that modesty is + a charm well worth preserving. I think that no youth has been + taught that in falseness and flashness is to be found the road to + manliness; but some may perhaps have learned from me that it is + to be found in truth and a high but gentle spirit. Such are the + lessons I have striven to teach; and I have thought that it might + best be done by representing to my readers characters like + themselves, — or to which they might liken themselves.</i> <a href="#1">[1]</a> + </blockquote> + +<a name="#3"></a> + +<p>Given Trollope's philosophy, it is reasonable to believe that the +actions of his characters should speak louder than their words. If +so, Trollope might well have been holding up a mirror to his audience +that they might examine their own prejudices. Unfortunately, we shall +never know. + +<a name="1"></a> + <blockquote> + <font size="-1"> + [1] Anthony Trollope. <i>An Autobiography</i>. Oxford University Press, + Oxford, 1950. + </font> + </blockquote> +<table> +<tr><td width="60%"></td><td align="right" width="40%"><b>Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.</b> +<tr><td> </td><td align="right">Midland, 2003 +</table> +<table> +<tr><td width="18%"></td><td align="left"> + <font size="-2"> + Copyright © 2003 Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D. + This Introduction to <i>Nina Balatka</i> is protected by + copyright and/or other applicable law. Any use of the + work other than as authorized in <a href="#2">"The Legal Small Print"</a> + section (found at the end of the book) is prohibited. + </font> + </td><td width="10%"></td> +</table> + + + + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h1>NINA BALATKA</h1> +<br> +<br> +<h2>VOLUME I</h2> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> +</center> + +<p>Nina Balatka was a maiden of Prague, born of Christian parents, and +herself a Christian — but she loved a Jew; and this is her story. + +<p>Nina Balatka was the daughter of one Josef Balatka, an old merchant +of Prague, who was living at the time of this story; but Nina's mother +was dead. Josef, in the course of his business, had become closely +connected with a certain Jew named Trendellsohn, who lived in a mean +house in the Jews' quarter in Prague — habitation in that one allotted +portion of the town having been the enforced custom with the Jews then, +as it still is now. In business with Trendellsohn, the father, there +was Anton, his son; and Anton Trendellsohn was the Jew whom Nina +Balatka loved. Now it had so happened that Josef Balatka, Nina's +father, had drifted out of a partnership with Karil Zamenoy, a wealthy +Christian merchant of Prague, and had drifted into a partnership with +Trendellsohn. How this had come to pass needs not to be told here, as +it had all occurred in years when Nina was an infant. But in these +shiftings Balatka became a ruined man, and at the time of which I write +he and his daughter were almost penniless. The reader must know that +Karil Zamenoy and Josef Balatka had married sisters. Josef's wife, +Nina's mother, had long been dead, having died — so said Sophie Zamenoy, +her sister — of a broken heart; of a heart that had broken itself in +grief, because her husband had joined his fortunes with those of a Jew. +Whether the disgrace of the alliance or its disastrous result may have +broken the lady's heart, or whether she may have died of a pleurisy, as +the doctors said, we need not inquire here. Her soul had been long at +rest, and her spirit, we may hope, had ceased to fret itself in horror +at contact with a Jew. But Sophie Zamenoy was alive and strong, and +could still hate a Jew as intensely as Jews ever were hated in those +earlier days in which hatred could satisfy itself with persecution. In +her time but little power was left to Madame Zamenoy to persecute the +Trendellsohns other than that which nature had given to her in the +bitterness of her tongue. She could revile them behind their back, or, +if opportunity offered, to their faces; and both she had done often, +telling the world of Prague that the Trendellsohns had killed her +sister, and robbed her foolish brother-in-law. But hitherto the full +vial of her wrath had not been emptied, as it came to be emptied +afterwards; for she had not yet learned the mad iniquity of her niece. +But at the moment of which I now speak, Nina herself knew her own +iniquity, hardly knowing, however, whether her love did or did not +disgrace her. But she did know that any thought as to that was too +late. She loved the man, and had told him so; and were he gipsy as well +as Jew, it would be required of her that she should go out with him +into the wilderness. And Nina Balatka was prepared to go out into the +wilderness. Karil Zamenoy and his wife were prosperous people, and +lived in a comfortable modern house in the New Town. It stood in +a straight street, and at the back of the house there ran another +straight street. This part of the city is very little like that old +Prague, which may not be so comfortable, but which, of all cities on +the earth, is surely the most picturesque. Here lived Sophie Zamenoy; +and so far up in the world had she mounted, that she had a coach of +her own in which to be drawn about the thoroughfares of Prague and its +suburbs, and a stout little pair of Bohemian horses — ponies they were +called by those who wished to detract somewhat from Madame Zamenoy's +position. Madame Zamenoy had been at Paris, and took much delight +in telling her friends that the carriage also was Parisian; but, in +truth, it had come no further than from Dresden. Josef Balatka and +his daughter were very, very poor; but, poor as they were, they lived +in a large house, which, at least nominally, belonged to old Balatka +himself, and which had been his residence in the days of his better +fortunes. It was in the Kleinseite, that narrow portion of the town, +which lies on the other side of the river Moldau — the further side, +that is, from the so-called Old and New Town, on the western side of +the river, immediately under the great hill of the Hradschin. The +Old Town and the New Town are thus on one side of the river, and the +Kleinseite and the Hradschin on the other. To those who know Prague, +it need not here be explained that the streets of the Kleinseite are +wonderful in their picturesque architecture, wonderful in their lights +and shades, wonderful in their strange mixture of shops and palaces — +and now, alas! also of Austrian barracks — and wonderful in their +intricacy and great steepness of ascent. Balatka's house stood in a +small courtyard near to the river, but altogether hidden from it, +somewhat to the right of the main street of the Kleinseite as you pass +over the bridge. A lane, for it is little more, turning from the main +street between the side walls of what were once two palaces, comes +suddenly into a small square, and from a corner of this square there is +an open stone archway leading into a court. In this court is the door, +or doors, as I may say, of the house in which Balatka lived with his +daughter Nina. Opposite to these two doors was the blind wall of +another residence. Balatka's house occupied two sides of the court, +and no other window, therefore, besides his own looked either upon it +or upon him. The aspect of the place is such as to strike with wonder a +stranger to Prague — that in the heart of so large a city there should +be an abode so sequestered, so isolated, so desolate, and yet so close +to the thickest throng of life. But there are others such, perhaps many +others such, in Prague; and Nina Balatka, who had been born there, +thought nothing of the quaintness of her abode. Immediately over the +little square stood the palace of the Hradschin, the wide-spreading +residence of the old kings of Bohemia, now the habitation of an +ex-emperor of the House of Hapsburg, who must surely find the thousand +chambers of the royal mansion all too wide a retreat for the use of his +old age. So immediately did the imperial hill tower over the spot on +which Balatka lived, that it would seem at night, when the moon was +shining as it shines only at Prague, that the colonnades of the palace +were the upper storeys of some enormous edifice, of which the broken +merchant's small courtyard formed a lower portion. The long rows of +windows would glimmer in the sheen of the night, and Nina would stand +in the gloom of the archway counting them till they would seem to be +uncountable, and wondering what might be the thoughts of those who +abode there. But those who abode there were few in number, and their +thoughts were hardly worthy of Nina's speculation. The windows of +kings' palaces look out from many chambers. The windows of the +Hradschin look out, as we are told, from a thousand. But the rooms +within have seldom many tenants, nor the tenants, perhaps, many +thoughts. Chamber after chamber, you shall pass through them by the +score, and know by signs unconsciously recognised that there is not, +and never has been, true habitation within them. Windows almost +innumerable are there, that they may be seen from the outside — and such +is the use of palaces. But Nina, as she would look, would people the +rooms with throngs of bright inhabitants, and would think of the joys +of happy girls who were loved by Christian youths, and who could dare +to tell their friends of their love. But Nina Balatka was no coward, +and she had already determined that she would at once tell her love to +those who had a right to know in what way she intended to dispose of +herself. As to her father, if only he could have been alone in the +matter, she would have had some hope of a compromise which would have +made it not absolutely necessary that she should separate herself from +him for ever in giving herself to Anton Trendellsohn. Josef Balatka +would doubtless express horror, and would feel shame that his daughter +should love a Jew — though he had not scrupled to allow Nina to go +frequently among these people, and to use her services with them for +staving off the ill consequences of his own idleness and ill-fortune; +but he was a meek, broken man, and was so accustomed to yield to Nina +that at last he might have yielded to her even in this. There was, +however, that Madame Zamenoy, her aunt — her aunt with the bitter tongue; +and there was Ziska Zamenoy, her cousin — her rich and handsome cousin, +who would so soon declare himself willing to become more than cousin, +if Nina would but give him one nod of encouragement, or half a smile of +welcome. But Nina hated her Christian lover, cousin though he was, as +warmly as she loved the Jew. Nina, indeed, loved none of the Zamenoys — +neither her cousin Ziska, nor her very Christian aunt Sophie with the +bitter tongue, nor her prosperous, money-loving, acutely mercantile +uncle Karil; but, nevertheless, she was in some degree so subject to +them, that she knew that she was bound to tell them what path in life +she meant to tread. Madame Zamenoy had offered to take her niece to +the prosperous house in the Windberg-gasse when the old house in the +Kleinseite had become poor and desolate; and though this generous offer +had been most fatuously declined — most wickedly declined, as aunt +Sophie used to declare — nevertheless other favours had been vouchsafed; +and other favours had been accepted, with sore injury to Nina's pride. +As she thought of this, standing in the gloom of the evening under the +archway, she remembered that the very frock she wore had been sent to +her by her aunt. But I in spite of the bitter tongue, and in spite of +Ziska's derision, she would tell her tale, and would tell it soon. She +knew her own courage, and trusted it; and, dreadful as the hour would +be, she would not put it off by one moment. As soon as Anton should +desire her to declare her purpose, she would declare it; and as he who +stands on a precipice, contemplating the expediency of throwing himself +from the rock, will feel himself gradually seized by a mad desire to do +the deed out of hand at once, so did Nina feel anxious to walk off to +the Windberg-gasse, and dare and endure all that the Zamenoys could say +or do. She knew, or thought she knew, that persecution could not go now +beyond the work of the tongue. No priest could immure her. No law could +touch her because she was minded to marry a Jew. Even the people in +these days were mild and forbearing in their usages with the Jews, and +she thought that the girls of the Kleinseite would not tear her clothes +from her back even when they knew of her love. One thing, however, was +certain. Though every rag should be torn from her — though some priest +might have special power given him to persecute her — though the +Zamenoys in their wrath should be able to crush her — even though her +own father should refuse to see her, she would be true to the Jew. Love +to her should be so sacred that no other sacredness should be able to +touch its sanctity. She had thought much of love, but had never loved +before. Now she loved, and, heart and soul, she belonged to him to whom +she had devoted herself. Whatever suffering might be before her, though +it were suffering unto death, she would endure it if her lover demanded +such endurance. Hitherto, there was but one person who suspected her. +In her father's house there still remained an old dependant, who, +though he was a man, was cook and housemaid, and washer-woman and +servant-of-all-work; or perhaps it would be more true to say that +he and Nina between them did all that the requirements of the house +demanded. Souchey — for that was his name — was very faithful, but with +his fidelity had come a want of reverence towards his master and +mistress, and an absence of all respectful demeanour. The enjoyment of +this apparent independence by Souchey himself went far, perhaps, in +lieu of wages. + +<p>"Nina," he said to her one morning, "you are seeing too much of Anton +Trendellsohn." + +<p>"What do you mean by that, Souchey?" said the girl, sharply. + +<p>"You are seeing too much of Anton Trendellsohn," repeated the old man. + +<p>"I have to see him on father's account. You know that. You know that, +Souchey, and you shouldn't say such things." + +<p>"You are seeing too much of Anton Trendellsohn," said Souchey for the +third time. "Anton Trendellsohn is a Jew." + +<p>Then Nina knew that Souchey had read her secret, and was sure that it +would spread from him through Lotta Luxa, her aunt's confidential maid, +up to her aunt's ears. Not that Souchey would be untrue to her on +behalf of Madame Zamenoy, whom he hated; but that he would think +himself bound by his religious duty — he who never went near priest or +mass himself — to save his mistress from the perils of the Jew. The +story of her love must be told, and Nina preferred to tell it herself +to having it told for her by her servant Souchey. She must see Anton. +When the evening therefore had come, and there was sufficient dusk upon +the bridge to allow of her passing over without observation, she put +her old cloak upon her shoulders, with the hood drawn over her head, +and, crossing the river, turned to the left and made her way through +the narrow crooked streets which led to the Jews' quarter. She knew the +path well, and could have found it with blindfolded eyes. In the middle +of that close and densely populated region of Prague stands the old +Jewish synagogue — the oldest place of worship belonging to the Jews in +Europe, as they delight to tell you; and in a pinched-up, high-gabled +house immediately behind the synagogue, at the corner of two streets, +each so narrow as hardly to admit a vehicle, dwelt the Trendellsohns. +On the basement floor there had once been a shop. There was no shop +now, for the Trendellsohns were rich, and no longer dealt in retail +matters; but there had been no care, or perhaps no ambition, at work, +to alter the appearance of their residence, and the old shutters were +upon the window, making the house look as though it were deserted. +There was a high-pitched sharp roof over the gable, which, as +the building stood alone fronting upon the synagogue, made it so +remarkable, that all who knew Prague well, knew the house in which the +Trendellsohns lived. Nina had often wished, as in latter days she had +entered it, that it was less remarkable, so that she might have gone in +and out with smaller risk of observation. It was now the beginning of +September, and the clocks of the town had just struck eight as Nina put +her hand on the lock of the Jew's door. As usual it was not bolted, +and she was able to enter without waiting in the street for a servant +to come to her. She went at once along the narrow passage and up the +gloomy wooden stairs, at the foot of which there hung a small lamp, +giving just light enough to expel the actual blackness of night. On the +first landing Nina knocked at a door, and was desired to enter by a +soft female voice. The only occupant of the room when she entered was a +dark-haired child, some twelve years old perhaps, but small in stature +and delicate, and, as appeared to the eye, almost wan. "Well, Ruth +dear," said Nina, "is Anton at home this evening?" + +<p>"He is up-stairs with grandfather, Nina. Shall I tell him?" + +<p>"If you will, dear," said Nina, stooping down and kissing her. + +<p>"Nice Nina, dear Nina, good Nina," said the girl, rubbing her glossy +curls against her friend's cheeks. "Ah, dear, how I wish you lived +here!" + +<p>"But I have a father, as you have a grandfather, Ruth." + +<p>"And he is a Christian." + +<p>"And so am I, Ruth." + +<p>"But you like us, and are good, and nice, and dear — and oh, Nina, you +are so beautiful! I wish you were one of us, and lived here. There is +Miriam Harter — her hair is as light as yours, and her eyes are as +grey." + +<p>"What has that to do with it?" + +<p>"Only I am so dark, and most of us are dark here in Prague. Anton says +that away in Palestine our girls are as fair as the girls in Saxony." + +<p>"And does not Anton like girls to be dark?" + +<p>"Anton likes fair hair — such as yours — and bright grey eyes such as +you have got. I said they were green, and he pulled my ears. But now +I look, Nina, I think they are green. And so bright! I can see my own +in them, though it is so dark. That is what they call looking babies." + +<p>"Go to your uncle, Ruth, and tell him that I want him — on business." + +<p>"I will, and he'll come to you. He won't let me come down again, so +kiss me, Nina; good-bye." + +<p>Nina kissed the child again, and then was left alone in the room. It +was a comfortable chamber, having in it sofas and arm-chairs — much more +comfortable, Nina used to think, than her aunt's grand drawing-room in +the Windberg-gasse, which was covered all over with a carpet, after the +fashion of drawing-rooms in Paris; but the Jew's sitting-room was dark, +with walls painted a gloomy green colour, and there was but one small +lamp of oil upon the table. But yet Nina loved the room, and as she sat +there waiting for her lover, she wished that it had been her lot to +have been born a Jewess. Only, had that been so, her hair might perhaps +have been black, and her eyes dark, and Anton would not have liked her. +She put her hand up for a moment to her rich brown tresses, and felt +them as she took joy in thinking that Anton Trendellsohn loved to look +upon fair beauty. + +<p>After a short while Anton Trendellsohn came down. To those who know +the outward types of his race there could be no doubt that Anton +Trendellsohn was a very Jew among Jews. He was certainly a handsome +man, not now very young, having reached some year certainly in advance +of thirty, and his face was full of intellect. He was slightly made, +below the middle height, but was well made in every limb, with small +feet and hands, and small ears, and a well-turned neck. He was very +dark — dark as a man can be, and yet show no sign of colour in his +blood. No white man could be more dark and swarthy than Anton +Trendellsohn. His eyes, however, which were quite black, were very +bright. His jet-black hair, as it clustered round his ears, had in it +something of a curl. Had it been allowed to grow, it would almost have +hung in ringlets; but it was worn very short, as though its owner were +jealous even of the curl. Anton Trendellsohn was decidedly a handsome +man; but his eyes were somewhat too close together in his face, and the +bridge of his aquiline nose was not sharply cut, as is mostly the case +with such a nose on a Christian face. The olive oval face was without +doubt the face of a Jew, and the mouth was greedy, and the teeth were +perfect and bright, and the movement of the man's body was the movement +of a Jew. But not the less on that account had he behaved with +Christian forbearance to his Christian debtor, Josef Balatka, and with +Christian chivalry to Balatka's daughter, till that chivalry had turned +itself into love. + +<p>"Nina," he said, putting out his hand, and holding hers as he spoke, "I +hardly expected you this evening; but I am glad to see you — very glad." + +<p>"I hope I am not troubling you, Anton?" + +<p>"How can you trouble me? The sun does not trouble us when we want light +and heat." + +<p>"Can I give you light and heat?" + +<p>"The light and heat I love best, Nina." + +<p>"If I thought that — if I could really think that — I would be happy +still, and would mind nothing." + +<p>"And what is it you do mind?" + +<p>"There are things to trouble us, of course. When aunt Sophie says that +all of us have our troubles — even she — I suppose that even she speaks +the truth." + +<p>"Your aunt Sophie is a fool." + +<p>"I should not mind if she were only a fool. But a fool can sometimes be +right." + +<p>"And she has been scolding you because — you — prefer a Jew to a +Christian." + +<p>"No — not yet, Anton. She does not know it yet; but she must know it." + +<p>"Sit down, Nina." He was still holding her by the hand; and now, as he +spoke, he led her to a sofa which stood between the two windows. There +he seated her, and sat by her side, still holding her hand in his. +"Yes," he said, "she must know it of course — when the time comes; and +if she guesses it before, you must put up with her guesses. A few sharp +words from a foolish woman will not frighten you, I hope." + +<p>"No words will frighten me out of my love, if you mean that — neither +words nor anything else." + +<p>"I believe you. You are brave, Nina. I know that. Though you will cry +if one but frowns at you, yet you are brave." + +<p>"Do not you frown at me, Anton." + +<p>"I am one of those that do frown at times, I suppose; but I will be +true to you, Nina, if you will be true to me." + +<p>"I will be true to you — true as the sun." + +<p>As she made her promise she turned her sweet face up to his, and he +leaned over her, and kissed her. + +<p>"And what is it that has disturbed you now, Nina? What has Madame +Zamenoy said to you?" + +<p>"She has said nothing — as yet. She suspects nothing — as yet." + +<p>"Then let her remain as she is." + +<p>"But, Anton, Souchey knows, and he will talk." + +<p>"Souchey! And do you care for that?" + +<p>"I care for nothing — for nothing; for nothing, that is, in the way of +preventing me. Do what they will, they cannot tear my love from my +heart." + +<p>"Nor can they take you away, or lock you up." + +<p>"I fear nothing of that sort, Anton. All that I really fear is secrecy. +Would it not be best that I should tell father?" + +<p>"What! — now, at once?" + +<p>"If you will let me. I suppose he must know it soon." + +<p>"You can if you please." + +<p>"Souchey will tell him." + +<p>"Will Souchey dare to speak of you like that?" asked the Jew. + +<p>"Oh, yes; Souchey dares to say anything to father now. Besides, it is +true. Why should not Souchey say it?" + +<p>"But you have not spoken to Souchey; you have not told him?" + +<p>"I! No indeed. I have spoken never a word to anyone about that — only to +you. How should I speak to another without your bidding? But when they +speak to me I must answer them. If father asks me whether there be +aught between you and me, shall I not tell him then?" + +<p>"It would be better to be silent for a while." + +<p>"But shall I lie to him? I should not mind Souchey nor aunt Sophie +much; but I never yet told a lie to father." + +<p>"I do not tell you to lie." + +<p>"Let me tell it all. Anton, and then, whatever they may say, whatever +they may do, I shall not mind. I wish that they knew it, and then I +could stand up against them. Then I could tell Ziska that which would +make him hold his tongue for ever." + +<p>"Ziska! Who cares for Ziska?" + +<p>"You need not, at any rate." + +<p>"The truth is, Nina, that I cannot be married till I have settled all +this about the houses in the Kleinseite. The very fact that you would +be your father's heir prevents my doing so." + +<p>"Do you think that I wish to hurry you? I would rather stay as I am, +knowing that you love me." + +<p>"Dear Nina! But when your aunt shall once know your secret, she will +give you no peace till you are out of her power. She will leave no +stone unturned to make you give up your Jew lover." + +<p>"She may as well leave the turning of such stones alone." + +<p>"But if she heard nothing of it till she heard that we were married — " + +<p>"Ah! but that is impossible. I could not do that without telling +father, and father would surely tell my aunt." + +<p>"You may do as you will, Nina; but it may be, when they shall know it, +that therefore there may be new difficulty made about the houses. Karil +Zamenoy has the papers, which are in truth mine — or my father's — which +should be here in my iron box." And Trendellsohn, as he spoke, put his +hand forcibly on the seat beside him, as though the iron box to which +he alluded were within his reach. + +<p>"I know they are yours," said Nina. + +<p>"Yes; and without them, should your father die, I could not claim my +property. The Zamenoys might say they held it on your behalf — and you +my wife at the time! Do you see, Nina? I could not stand that — I would +not stand that." + +<p>"I understand it well, Anton." + +<p>"The houses are mine — or ours, rather. Your father has long since had +the money, and more than the money. He knew that the houses were to be +ours." + +<p>"He knows it well. You do not think that he is holding back the +papers?" + +<p>"He should get them for me. He should not drive me to press him for +them. I know they are at Karil Zamenoy's counting-house; but your uncle +told me, when I spoke to him, that he had no business with me; if I had +a claim on him, there was the law. I have no claim on him. But I let +your father have the money when he wanted it, on his promise that the +deeds should be forthcoming. A Christian would not have been such a +fool." + +<p>"Oh, Anton, do not speak to me like that." + +<p>"But was I not a fool? See how it is now. Were you and I to become man +and wife, they would never give them up, though they are my own — my +own. No; we must wait; and you — you must demand them from your uncle." + +<p>"I will demand them. And as for waiting, I care nothing for that if you +love me." + +<p>"I do love you." + +<p>"Then all shall be well with me; and I will ask for the papers. Father, +I know, wishes that you should have all that is your own. He would +leave the house to-morrow if you desired it." + +<p>"He is welcome to remain there." + +<p>"And now, Anton, good-night." + +<p>"Good-night, Nina." + +<p>"When shall I see you again?" + +<p>"When you please, and as often. Have I not said that you are light +and heat to me? Can the sun rise too often for those who love it?" +Then she held her hand up to be kissed, and kissed his in return, and +went silently down the stairs into the street. He had said once in +the course of the conversation — nay, twice, as she came to remember +in thinking over it — that she might do as she would about telling +her friends; and she had been almost craftily careful to say nothing +herself, and to draw nothing from him, which could be held as +militating against this authority, or as subsequently negativing the +permission so given. She would undoubtedly tell her father — and her +aunt; and would as certainly demand from her uncle those documents of +which Anton Trendellsohn had spoken to her. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> +</center> + +<p>Nina, as she returned home from the Jews' quarter to her father's +house in the Kleinseite, paused for a while on the bridge to make some +resolution — some resolution that should be fixed — as to her immediate +conduct. Should she first tell her story to her father, or first to her +aunt Sophie? There were reasons for and against either plan. And if to +her father first, then should she tell it to-night? She was nervously +anxious to rush at once at her difficulties, and to be known to all +who belonged to her as the girl who had given herself to the Jew. It +was now late in the evening, and the moon was shining brightly on the +palace over against her. The colonnades seemed to be so close to her +that there could hardly be room for any portion of the city to cluster +itself between them and the river. She stood looking up at the great +building, and fell again into her trick of counting the windows, +thereby saving herself a while from the difficult task of following out +the train of her thoughts. But what were the windows of the palace to +her? So she walked on again till she reached a spot on the bridge at +which she almost always paused a moment to perform a little act of +devotion. There, having a place in the long row of huge statues which +adorn the bridge, is the figure of the martyr St John Nepomucene, who +at this spot was thrown into the river because he would not betray the +secrets of a queen's confession, and was drowned, and who has ever +been, from that period downwards, the favourite saint of Prague — and +of bridges. On the balustrade, near the figure, there is a small plate +inserted in the stone-work and good Catholics, as they pass over the +river, put their hands upon the plate, and then kiss their fingers. So +shall they be saved from drowning and from all perils of the water — as +far, at least, as that special transit of the river may be perilous. +Nina, as a child, had always touched the stone, and then touched her +lips, and did the act without much thought as to the saving power of St +John Nepomucene. But now, as she carried her hand up to her face, she +did think of the deed. Had she, who was about to marry a Jew, any right +to ask for the assistance of a Christian saint? And would such a deed +that she now proposed to herself put her beyond the pale of Christian +aid? Would the Madonna herself desert her should she marry a Jew? If +she were to become truer than ever to her faith — more diligent, more +thoughtful, more constant in all acts of devotion — would the blessed +Mary help to save her, even though she should commit this great sin? +Would the mild-eyed, sweet Saviour, who had forgiven so many women, who +had saved from a cruel death the woman taken in adultery, who had been +so gracious to the Samaritan woman at the well — would He turn from her +the graciousness of His dear eyes, and bid her go out for ever from +among the faithful? Madame Zamenoy would tell her so, and so would +Sister Teresa, an old nun, who was on most friendly terms with Madame +Zamenoy, and whom Nina altogether hated; and so would the priest, to +whom, alas! she would be bound to give faith. And if this were so, +whither should she turn for comfort? She could not become a Jewess! She +might call herself one; but how could she be a Jewess with her strong +faith in St Nicholas, who was the saint of her own Church, and in St +John of the River, and in the Madonna? No; she must be an outcast from +all religions, a Pariah, one devoted absolutely to the everlasting +torments which lie beyond Purgatory — unless, indeed, unless that +mild-eyed Saviour would be content to take her faith and her acts of hidden +worship, despite her aunt, despite that odious nun, and despite the +very priest himself! She did not know how this might be with her, but +she did know that all the teaching of her life was against any such +hope. + +<p>But what was — what could be the good of such thoughts to her? Had not +things gone too far with her for such thoughts to be useful? She loved +the Jew, and had told him so; and not all the penalties with which the +priests might threaten her could lessen her love, or make her think of +her safety here or hereafter, as a thing to be compared with her love. +Religion was much to her; the fear of the everlasting wrath of Heaven +was much to her; but love was paramount! What if it were her soul? +Would she not give even her soul for her love, if, for her love's sake, +her soul should be required from her? When she reached the archway, she +had made up her mind that she would tell her aunt first, and that she +would do so early on the following day. Were she to tell her father +first, her father might probably forbid her to speak on the subject to +Madame Zamenoy, thinking that his own eloquence and that of the priest +might prevail to put an end to so terrible an iniquity, and that so +Madame Zamenoy might never learn the tidings. Nina, thinking of all +this, and being quite determined that the Zamenoys should know what +she intended to tell them, resolved that she would say nothing on that +night at home. + +<p>"You are very late, Nina," said her father to her, crossly, as soon +as she entered the room in which they lived. It was a wide apartment, +having in it now but little furniture — two rickety tables, a few +chairs, an old bureau in which Balatka kept, under lock and key, all +that still belonged to him personally, and a little desk, which was +Nina's own repository. + +<p>"Yes, father, I am late; but not very late. I have been with Anton +Trendellsohn." + +<p>"And what have you been there for now?" + +<p>"Anton Trendellsohn has been talking to me about the papers which uncle +Karil has. He wants to have them himself. He says they are his." + +"I suppose he means that we are to be turned out of the old house." + +<p>"No, father; he does not mean that. He is not a cruel man. But he says +that — that he cannot settle anything about the property without having +the papers. I suppose that is true." + +<p>"He has the rent of the other houses," said Balatka. + +<p>"Yes; but if the papers are his, he ought to have them." + +<p>"Did he send for them?" + +<p>"No, father; he did not send." + +<p>"And what made you go?" + +<p>"I am so of often going there. He had spoken to me before about this. +He thinks you do not like him to come here, and you never go there +yourself." + +<p>After this there was a pause for a few minutes, and Nina was settling +herself to her work. Then the old man spoke again. + +<p>"Nina, I fear you see too much of Anton Trendellsohn." The words were +the very words of Souchey; and Nina was sure that her father and the +servant had been discussing her conduct. It was no more than she had +expected, but her father's words had come very quickly upon Souchey's +speech to herself. What did it signify? Everybody would know it all +before twenty-four hours had passed by. Nina, however, was determined +to defend herself at the present moment, thinking that there was +something of injustice in her father's remarks. "As for seeing him +often, father, I have done it because your business has required it. +When you were ill in April I had to be there almost daily." + +<p>"But you need not have gone to-night. He did not send for you." + +<p>"But it is needful that something should be done to get for him that +which is his own." As she said this there came to her a sting of +conscience, a thought that reminded her that, though she was not lying +to her father in words, she was in fact deceiving him; and remembering +her assertion to her lover that she had never spoken falsely to her +father, she blushed with shame as she sat in the darkness of her seat. + +<p>"To-morrow father," she said, "I will talk to you more about this, and +you shall not at any rate say that I keep anything from you." + +<p>"I have never said so, Nina." + +<p>"It is late now, father. Will you not go to bed?" + +<p>Old Balatka yielded to this suggestion, and went to his bed; and Nina, +after some hour or two, went to hers. But before doing so she opened +the little desk that stood in the corner of their sitting-room, of +which the key was always in her pocket, and took out everything that it +contained. There were many letters there, of which most were on matters +of business — letters which in few houses would come into the hands of +such a one as Nina Balatka, but which, through the weakness of her +father's health, had come into hers. Many of these she now read; some +few she tore and burned in the stove, and others she tied in bundles +and put back carefully into their place. There was not a paper in the +desk which did not pass under her eye, and as to which she did not come +to some conclusion, either to keep it or to burn it. There were no +love-letters there. Nina Balatka had never yet received such a letter +as that. She saw her lover too frequently to feel much the need of +written expressions of love; and such scraps of his writing as there +were in the bundles, referred altogether to small matters of business. +When she had thus arranged her papers, she too went to bed. On the next +morning, when she gave her father his breakfast, she was very silent. +She made for him a little chocolate, and cut for him a few slips of +white bread to dip into it. For herself, she cut a slice from a black +loaf made of rye flour, and mixed with water a small quantity of the +thin sour wine of the country. Her meal may have been worth perhaps a +couple of kreutzers, or something less than a penny, whereas that of +her father may have cost twice as much. Nina was a close and sparing +housekeeper, but with all her economy she could not feed three people +upon nothing. Latterly, from month to month, she had sold one thing out +of the house after another, knowing as each article went that provision +from such store as that must soon fail her. But anything was better +than taking money from her aunt whom she hated — except taking money +from the Jew whom she loved. From him she had taken none, though it had +been often offered. "You have lost more than enough by father," she had +said to him when the offer had been made. "What I give to the wife of +my bosom shall never be reckoned as lost," he had answered. She had +loved him for the words, and had pressed his hand in hers — but she had +not taken his money. From her aunt some small meagre supply had been +accepted from time to time — a florin or two now, and a florin or two +again — given with repeated intimations on aunt Sophie's part, that +her husband Karil could not be expected to maintain the house in the +Kleinseite. Nina had not felt herself justified in refusing such gifts +from her aunt to her father, but as each occasion came she told herself +that some speedy end must be put to this state of things. Her aunt's +generosity would not sustain her father, and her aunt's generosity +nearly killed herself. On this very morning she would do that which +should certainly put an end to a state of things so disagreeable. +After breakfast, therefore, she started at once for the house in the +Windberg-gasse, leaving her father still in his bed. She walked very +quick, looking neither to the right nor the left, across the bridge, +along the river-side, and then up into the straight ugly streets of the +New Town. The distance from her father's house was nearly two miles, +and yet the journey was made in half an hour. She had never walked so +quickly through the streets of Prague before; and when she reached the +end of the Windberg-gasse, she had to pause a moment to collect her +thoughts and her breath. But it was only for a moment, and then the +bell was rung. + +<p>Yes; her aunt was at home. At ten in the morning that was a matter of +course. She was shown, not into the grand drawing-room, which was only +used on grand occasions, but into a little back parlour which, in spite +of the wealth and magnificence of the Zamenoys, was not so clean as the +room in the Kleinseite, and certainly not so comfortable as the Jew's +apartment. There was no carpet; but that was not much, as carpets in +Prague were not in common use. There were two tables crowded with +things needed for household purposes, half-a-dozen chairs of different +patterns, a box of sawdust close under the wall, placed there that +papa Zamenoy might spit into it when it pleased him. There was a crowd +of clothes and linen hanging round the stove, which projected far into +the room; and spread upon the table, close to which was placed mamma +Zamenoy's chair, was an article of papa Zamenoy's dress, on which mamma +Zamenoy was about to employ her talents in the art of tailoring. All +this, however, was nothing to Nina, nor was the dirt on the floor much +to her, though she had often thought that if she were to go and live +with aunt Sophie, she would contrive to make some improvement as to the +cleanliness of the house. + +<p>"Your aunt will be down soon," said Lotta Luxa as they passed through +the passage. "She is very angry, Nina, at not seeing you all the last +week." + +<p>"I don't know why she should be angry, Lotta. I did not say I would +come." + +<p>Lotta Luxa was a sharp little woman, over forty years of age, with +quick green eyes and thin red-tipped nose, looking as though Paris +might have been the town of her birth rather than Prague. She wore +short petticoats, clean stockings, an old pair of slippers; and in the +back of her hair she still carried that Diana's dart which maidens wear +in those parts when they are not only maidens unmarried, but maidens +also disengaged. No one had yet succeeded in drawing Lotta Luxa's arrow +from her head, though Souchey, from the other side of the river, had +made repeated attempts to do so. For Lotta Luxa had a little money of +her own, and poor Souchey had none. Lotta muttered something about the +thoughtless thanklessness of young people, and then took herself +down-stairs. Nina opened the door of the back parlour, and found her +cousin Ziska sitting alone with his feet propped upon the stove. + +<p>"What, Ziska," she said, "you not at work by ten o'clock!" + +<p>"I was not well last night, and took physic this morning," said Ziska. +"Something had disagreed with me." + +<p>"I'm sorry for that, Ziska. You eat too much fruit, I suppose." + +<p>"Lotta says it was the sausage, but I don't think it was. I'm very fond +of sausage, and everybody must be ill sometimes. She'll be down here +again directly;" and Ziska with his head nodded at the chair in which +his mother was wont to sit. + +<p>Nina, whose mind was quite full of her business, was determined to go +to work at once. "I'm glad to have you alone for a moment, Ziska," she +said. + +<p>"And so am I very glad; only I wish I had not taken physic, it makes +one so uncomfortable." + +<p>At this moment Nina had in her heart no charity towards her cousin, and +did not care for his discomfort. "Ziska," she said, "Anton Trendellsohn +wants to have the papers about the houses in the Kleinseite. He says +that they are his, and you have them." + +<p>Ziska hated Anton Trendellsohn, hardly knowing why he hated him. "If +Trendellsohn wants anything of us," said he, "why does he not come to +the office? He knows where to find us." + +<p>"Yes, Ziska, he knows where to find you; but, as he says, he has no +business with you — no business as to which he can make a demand. He +thinks, therefore, you would merely bid him begone." + +<p>"Very likely. One doesn't want to see more of a Jew than one can help." + +<p>"That Jew, Ziska, owns the house in which father lives. That Jew, +Ziska, is the best friend that — that — that father has." + +<p>"I'm sorry you think so, Nina." + +<p>"How can I help thinking it? You can't deny, nor can uncle, that the +houses belong to him. The papers got into uncle's hands when he and +father were together, and I think they ought to be given up now. Father +thinks that the Trendellsohns should have them. Even though they are +Jews, they have a right to their own." + +<p>"You know nothing about it, Nina. How should you know about such things +as that?" + +<p>"I am driven to know. Father is ill, and cannot come himself." + +<p>"Oh, laws! I am so uncomfortable. I never will take stuff from Lotta +Luxa again. She thinks a man is the same as a horse." + +<p>This little episode put a stop to the conversation about the title-deeds, +and then Madame Zamenoy entered the room. Madame Zamenoy was a woman +of a portly demeanour, well fitted to do honour by her personal +presence to that carriage and horses with which Providence and an +indulgent husband had blessed her. And when she was dressed in her +full panoply of French millinery — the materials of which had come from +England, and the manufacture of which had taken place in Prague — she +looked the carriage and horses well enough. But of a morning she was +accustomed to go about the house in a pale-tinted wrapper, which, +pale-tinted as it was, should have been in the washing-tub much oftener than +was the case with it — if not for cleanliness, then for mere decency of +appearance. + +<p>And the mode in which she carried her matutinal curls, done up with +black pins, very visible to the eye, was not in itself becoming. The +handkerchief which she wore in lieu of cap, might have been excused on +the score of its ugliness, as Madame Zamenoy was no longer young, had +it not been open to such manifest condemnation for other sins. And in +this guise she would go about the house from morning to night on days +not made sacred by the use of the carriage. Now Lotta Luxa was clean in +the midst of her work; and one would have thought that the cleanliness +of the maid would have shamed the slatternly ways of the mistress. But +Madame Zamenoy and Lotta Luxa had lived together long, and probably +knew each other well. + +<p>"Well, Nina," she said, "so you've come at last?" + +<p>"Yes; I've come, aunt. And as I want to say something very particular +to you yourself, perhaps Ziska won't mind going out of the room for a +minute." Nina had not sat down since she had been in the room, and was +now standing before her aunt with almost militant firmness. She was +resolved to rush at once at the terrible subject which she had in hand, +but she could not do so in the presence of her cousin Ziska. + +<p>Ziska groaned audibly. "Ziska isn't well this morning," said Madame +Zamenoy, "and I do not wish to have him disturbed." + +<p>"Then perhaps you'll come into the front parlour, aunt." + +<p>"What can there be that you cannot say before Ziska?" + +<p>"There is something, aunt," said Nina. + +<p>If there were a secret, Madame Zamenoy decidedly wished to hear it, and +therefore, after pausing to consider the matter for a moment or two, +she led the way into the front parlour. + +<p>"And now, Nina, what is it? I hope you have not disturbed me in this +way for anything that is a trifle." + +<p>"It is no trifle to me, aunt. I am going to be married to — Anton +Trendellsohn." She said the words slowly, standing bolt-upright, at her +greatest height, as she spoke them, and looking her aunt full in the +face with something of defiance both in her eyes and in the tone of +her voice. She had almost said, "Anton Trendellsohn, the Jew;" and when +her speech was finished, and admitted of no addition, she reproached +herself with pusillanimity in that she had omitted the word which had +always been so odious, and would now be doubly odious — odious to her +aunt in a tenfold degree. + +<p>Madame Zamenoy stood for a while speechless — struck with horror. +The tidings which she heard were so unexpected, so strange, and so +abominable, that they seemed at first to crush her. Nina was her +niece — her sister's child; and though she might be repudiated, +reviled, persecuted, and perhaps punished, still she must retain her +relationship to her injured relatives. And it seemed to Madame Zamenoy +as though the marriage of which Nina spoke was a thing to be done at +once, out of hand — as though the disgusting nuptials were to take place +on that day or on the next, and could not now be avoided. It occurred +to her that old Balatka himself was a consenting party, and that utter +degradation was to fall upon the family instantly. There was that in +Nina's air and manner, as she spoke of her own iniquity, which made the +elder woman feel for the moment that she was helpless to prevent the +evil with which she was threatened. + +<p>"Anton Trendellsohn — a Jew," she said, at last. + +<p>"Yes, aunt; Anton Trendellsohn, the Jew. I am engaged to him as his +wife." + +<p>There was a something of doubtful futurity in the word engaged, which +gave a slight feeling of relief to Madame Zamenoy, and taught her to +entertain a hope that there might be yet room for escape. "Marry a Jew, +Nina," she said; "it cannot be possible!" + +<p>"It is possible, aunt. Other Jews in Prague have married Christians." + +<p>"Yes, I know it. There have been outcasts among us low enough so to +degrade themselves — low women who were called Christians. There has +been no girl connected with decent people who has ever so degraded +herself. Does your father know of this?" + +<p>"Not yet." + +<p>"Your father knows nothing of it, and you come and tell me that you are +engaged — to a Jew!" Madame Zamenoy had so far recovered herself that +she was now able to let her anger mount above her misery. "You wicked +girl! Why have you come to me with such a story as this?" + +<p>"Because it is well that you should know it. I did not like to deceive +you, even by secrecy. You will not be hurt. You need not notice me any +longer. I shall be lost to you, and that will be all." + +<p>"If you were to do such a thing you would disgrace us. But you will not +be allowed to do it." + +<p>"But I shall do it." + +<p>"Nina!" + +<p>"Yes, aunt. I shall do it. Do you think I will be false to my troth?" + +<p>"Your troth to a Jew is nothing. Father Jerome will tell you so." + +<p>"I shall not ask Father Jerome. Father Jerome, of course, will condemn +me; but I shall not ask him whether or not I am to keep my promise — my +solemn promise." + +<p>"And why not?" + +<p>Then Nina paused a moment before she answered. But she did answer, and +answered with that bold defiant air which at first had disconcerted her +aunt. + +<p>"I will ask no one, aunt Sophie, because I love Anton Trendellsohn, and +have told him that I love him." + +<p>"Pshaw!" + +<p>"I have nothing more to say, aunt. I thought it right to tell you, and +now I will go." + +<p>She had turned to the door, and had her hand upon the lock when her +aunt stopped her. "Wait a moment, Nina. You have had your say; now you +must hear me." + +<p>"I will hear you if you say nothing against him." + +<p>"I shall say what I please." + +<p>"Then I will not hear you." Nina again made for the door, but her aunt +intercepted her retreat. "Of course you can stop me, aunt, in that way +if you choose." + +<p>"You bold, bad girl!" + +<p>"You may say what you please about myself." + +<p>"You are a bold, bad girl!" + +<p>"Perhaps I am. Father Jerome says we are all bad. And as for boldness, +I have to be bold." + +<p>"You are bold and brazen. Marry a Jew! It is the worst thing a +Christian girl could do." + +<p>"No, it is not. There are things ten times worse than that." + +<p>"How you could dare to come and tell me!" + +<p>"I did dare, you see. If I had not told you, you would have called me +sly." + +<p>"You are sly." + +<p>"I am not sly. You tell me I am bad and bold and brazen." + +<p>"So you are." + +<p>"Very likely. I do not say I am not. But I am not sly. Now, will you +let me go, aunt Sophie?" + +<p>"Yes, you may go — you may go; but you may not come here again till this +thing has been put an end to. Of course I shall see your father and +Father Jerome, and your uncle will see the police. You will be locked +up, and Anton Trendellsohn will be sent out of Bohemia. That is how it +will end. Now you may go." And Nina went her way. + +<p>Her aunt's threat of seeing her father and the priest was nothing to +Nina. It was the natural course for her aunt to take, and a course in +opposition to which Nina was prepared to stand her ground firmly. But +the allusion to the police did frighten her. She had thought of the +power which the law might have over her very often, and had spoken of +it in awe to her lover. He had reassured her, explaining to her that, +as the law now stood in Austria, no one but her father could prevent +her marriage with a Jew, and that he could only do so till she was of +age. Now Nina would be twenty-one on the first of the coming month, and +therefore would be free, as Anton told her, to do with herself as she +pleased. But still there came over her a cold feeling of fear when her +aunt spoke to her of the police. The law might give the police no power +over her; but was there not a power in the hands of those armed men +whom she saw around her on every side, and who were seldom countrymen +of her own, over and above the law? Were there not still dark dungeons +and steel locks and hard hearts? Though the law might justify her, how +would that serve her, if men — if men and women, were determined to +persecute her? As she walked home, however, she resolved that dark +dungeons and steel locks and hard hearts might do their worst against +her. She had set her will upon one thing in this world, and from +that one thing no persecution should drive her. They might kill her, +perhaps. Yes, they might kill her; and then there would be an end of +it. But to that end she would force them to come before she would +yield. So much she swore to herself as she walked home on that morning +to the Kleinseite. + +<p>Madame Zamenoy, when Nina left her, sat in solitary consideration for +some twenty minutes, and then called for her chief confidant, Lotta +Luxa. With many expressions of awe, and with much denunciation of her +niece's iniquity, she told to Lotta what she had heard, speaking of +Nina as one who was utterly lost and abandoned. Lotta, however, did not +express so much indignant surprise as her mistress expected, though she +was willing enough to join in abuse against Nina Balatka. + +<p>"That comes of letting girls go about just as they please among the +men," said Lotta. + +<p>"But a Jew!" said Madame Zamenoy. "If it had been any kind of a +Christian, I could understand it." + +<p>"Trendellsohn has such a hold upon her, and upon her father," said +Lotta. + +<p>"But a Jew! She has been to confession, has she not?" + +<p>"Regularly," said Lotta Luxa. + +<p>"Dear, dear! what a false hypocrite! And at mass?" + +<p>"Four mornings a-week always." + +<p>"And to tell me, after it all, that she means to marry a Jew. Of +course, Lotta, we must prevent it." + +<p>"But how? Her father will do whatever she bids him." + +<p>"Father Jerome would do anything for me." + +<p>"Father Jerome can do little or nothing if she has the bit between her +teeth," said Lotta. "She is as obstinate as a mule when she pleases. She +is not like other girls. You cannot frighten her out of anything." + +<p>"I'll try, at least," said Madame Zamenoy. + +<p>"Yes, we can try," said Lotta. + +<p>"Would not the mayor help us — that is, if we were driven to go to +that?" + +<p>"I doubt if he could do anything. He would be afraid to use a high +hand. He is Bohemian. The head of the police might do something, if +we could get at him." + +<p>"She might be taken away." + +<p>"Where could they take her?" asked Lotta. "No; they could not take her +anywhere." + +<p>"Not into a convent — out of the way somewhere in Italy?" + +<p>"Oh, heaven, no! They are afraid of that sort of thing now. All Prague +would know of it, and would talk; and the Jews would be stronger than +the priests; and the English people would hear of it, and there would +be the very mischief." + +<p>"The times have come to be very bad, Lotta." + +<p>"That's as may be," said Lotta as though she had her doubts upon the +subject. "That's as may be. But it isn't easy to put a young woman +away now without her will. Things have changed — partly for the worse, +perhaps, and partly for the better. Things are changing every day. My +wonder is that he should wish to many her." + +<p>"The men think her very pretty. Ziska is mad about her," said Madame +Zamenoy. + +<p>"But Ziska is a calf to Anton Trendellsohn. Anton Trendellsohn has cut +his wise teeth. Like them all, he loves his money; and she has not got +a kreutzer." + +<p>"But he has promised to marry her. You may be sure of that." + +<p>"Very likely. A man always promises that when he wants a girl to be +kind to him. But why should he stick to it? What can he get by marrying +Nina — a penniless girl, with a pauper for a father? The Trendellsohns +have squeezed that sponge dry already." + +<p>This was a new light to Madame Zamenoy, and one that was not altogether +unpleasant to her eyes. That her niece should have promised herself to +a Jew was dreadful, and that her niece should be afterwards jilted by +the Jew was a poor remedy. But still it was a remedy, and therefore she +listened. + +<p>"If nothing else can be done, we could perhaps put him against it," +said Lotta Luxa. + +<p>Madame Zamenoy on that occasion said but little more, but she agreed +with her servant that it would be better to resort to any means than +to submit to the degradation of an alliance with the Jew. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER III</h3> +</center> + +<p>On the third day after Nina's visit to her aunt, Ziska Zamenoy came +across to the Kleinseite on a visit to old Balatka. In the mean time +Nina had told the story of her love to her father, and the effect on +Balatka had simply been that he had not got out of his bed since. For +himself he would have cared, perhaps, but little as to the Jewish +marriage, had he not known that those belonging to him would have cared +so much. He had no strong religious prejudice of his own, nor indeed +had he strong feeling of any kind. He loved his daughter, and wished +her well; but even for her he had been unable to exert himself in his +younger days, and now simply expected from her hands all the comfort +which remained to him in this world. The priest he knew would attack +him, and to the priest he would be able to make no answer. But to +Trendellsohn, Jew as he was, he would trust in worldly matters, rather +than to the Zamenoys; and were it not that he feared the Zamenoys, and +could not escape from his close connection with them, he would have +been half inclined to let the girl marry the Jew. Souchey, indeed, had +frightened him on the subject when it had first been mentioned to him; +and Nina, coming with her own assurance so quickly after Souchey's +suspicion, had upset him; but his feeling in regard to Nina had none +of that bitter anger, no touch of that abhorrence which animated the +breast of his sister-in-law. When Ziska came to him he was alone in +his bedroom. Ziska had heard the news, as had all the household in the +Windberg-gasse, and had come over to his uncle's house to see what he +could do, by his own diplomacy, to put an end to an engagement which +was to him doubly calamitous. "Uncle Josef," he said, sitting by the +old man's bed, have you heard what Nina is doing?" + +<p>"What she is doing!" said the uncle. "What is she doing?" Balatka +feared all the Zamenoys, down to Lotta Luxa; but he feared Ziska less +than he feared any other of the household. + +<p>"Have you heard of Anton Trendellsohn?" + +<p>"What of Anton Trendellsohn? I have been hearing of Anton Trendellsohn +for the last thirty years. I have known him since he was born." + +<p>"Do you wish to have him for a son-in-law?" + +<p>"For a son-in-law?" + +<p>"Yes, for a son-in-law — Anton Trendellsohn, the Jew. Would he be a good +husband for our Nina? You say nothing, uncle Josef." + +<p>"What am I to say?" + +<p>"You have heard of it, then? Why can you not answer me, uncle Josef? +Have you heard that Trendellsohn has dared to ask Nina to be his wife?" + +<p>"There is not so much of daring in it, Ziska. Among you all the poor +girl is a beggar. If some one does not take pity on her, she will +starve soon." + +<p>"Take pity on her! Do not we all take pity on her?" + +<p>"No," said Josef Balatka, turning angrily against his nephew; "not a +scrap of pity — not a morsel of love. You cannot rid yourself of her +quite — of her or me — and that is your pity." + +<p>"You are wrong there." + +<p>"Very well; then let me be wrong. I can understand what is before my +eyes. Look round the house and see what we are coming to. Nina at the +present moment has not got a florin in her purse. We are starving, or +next to it, and yet you wonder that she should be willing to marry an +honest man who has plenty of money." + +<p>"But he is a Jew!" + +<p>"Yes; he is a Jew. I know that." + +<p>"And Nina knows it." + +<p>"Of course she does. Do you go home and eat nothing for a week, and +then see whether a Jew's bread will poison you." + +<p>"But to marry him, uncle Josef!" + +<p>"It is very bad. I know it is bad, but what can I do? If she says she +will do it, how can I help it? She has been a good child to me — a very +good child; and am I to lie here and see her starve? You would not give +to your dog the morsel of bread which she ate this morning before she +went out." + +<p>All this was a new light to Ziska. He knew that his uncle and cousin +were very poor, and had halted in his love because he was ashamed +of their poverty; but he had never thought of them as people hungry +from want of food, or cold from want of clothes. It may be said of +him, to his credit, that his love had been too strong for his shame, +and that he had made up his mind to marry his cousin Nina in spite +of her poverty. When Lotta Luxa had called him a calf she had not +inappropriately defined one side of his character. He was a good-looking +well-grown young man, not very wise, quickly susceptible to +female influences, and gifted with eyes capable of convincing him +that Nina Balatka was by far the prettiest woman whom he ever saw. But, +in connection with such calf-like propensities, Ziska was endowed with +something of his mother's bitterness and of his father's persistency; +and the old Zamenoys did not fear but that the fortunes of the family +would prosper in the hands of their son. And when it was known to +Madame Zamenoy and to her husband Karil that Ziska had set his heart +upon having his cousin, they had expressed no displeasure at the +prospect, poor as the Balatkas were. "There is no knowing how it may +go about the houses in the Kleinseite," Karil Zamenoy had said. "Old +Trendellsohn gets the rent and the interest, but he has little or +nothing to show for them — merely a written surrender from Josef, +which is worth nothing." No hindrance, therefore was placed in the +way of Ziska's suit, and Nina might have been already accepted in the +Windberg-gasse had Nina chosen to smile upon Ziska. Now Ziska was told +that the girl he loved was to marry a Jew because she was starving, +and the tidings threw a new light upon him. Why had he not offered +assistance to Nina? It was not surprising that Nina should be so hard +to him — to him who had as yet offered her nothing in her poverty but +a few cold compliments. + +<p>"She shall have bread enough, if that is what she wants," said Ziska. + +<p>"Bread and kindness," said the old man. + +<p>"She shall have kindness too, uncle Josef. I love Nina better than any +Jew in Prague can love her." + +<p>"Why should not a Jew love? I believe the man loves her well. Why else +should he wish to make her his wife?" + +<p>"And I love her well — and I would make her my wife." + +<p>"You want to marry Nina!" + +<p>"Yes, uncle Josef. I wish to marry Nina. I will marry her to-morrow — +or, for that matter, to-day — if she will have me." + +<p>"You! Ziska Zamenoy!" + +<p>"I, Ziska Zamenoy." + +<p>"And what would your mother say?" + +<p>"Both father and mother will consent. There need be no hindrance if +Nina will agree. I did not know that you were so badly off. I did not +indeed, or I would have come to you myself and seen to it." + +<p>Old Balatka did not answer for a while, having turned himself in his +bed to think of the proposition which had been made to him. "Would you +not like to have me for a son-in-law better than a Jew, uncle Josef?" +said Ziska, pleading for himself as best he knew how to plead. + +<p>"Have you ever spoken to Nina?" said the old man. + +<p>"Well, no; not exactly to say what I have said to you. When one loves a +girl as I love her, somehow — I don't know how — But I am ready to do so +at once. + +<p>"Ah, Ziska, if you had done it sooner!" + +<p>"But is it too late? You say she has taken up with this man because you +are both so poor. She cannot like a Jew best." + +<p>"But she is true — so true!" + +<p>"If you mean about her promise to Trendellsohn, Father Jerome would +tell her in a minute that she should not keep such a promise to a Jew." + +<p>"She would not mind Father Jerome." + +<p>"And what does she mind? Will she not mind you?" + +<p>"Me; yes — she will mind me, to give me my food." + +<p>"Will she not obey you?" + +<p>"How am I to bid her obey me? But I will try, Ziska." + +<p>"You would not wish her to marry a Jew?" + +<p>"No, Ziska; certainly I should not wish it." + +<p>"And you will give me your consent?" + +<p>"Yes, if it be any good to you." + +<p>"It will be good if you will be round with her, telling her that she +must not do such a thing as this. Love a Jew! It is impossible. As +you have been so very poor, she may be forgiven for having thought of +it. Tell her that, uncle Josef; and whatever you do, be firm with her." + +<p>"There she is in the next room," said the father, who had heard his +daughter's entrance. Ziska's face had assumed something of a defiant +look while he was recommending firmness to the old man; but now that +the girl of whom he had spoken was so near at hand, there returned to +his brow the young calf-like expression with which Lotta Luxa was so +well acquainted. "There she is, and you will speak to her yourself +now," said Balatka. + +<p>Ziska got up to go, but as he did so he fumbled in his pocket and +brought forth a little bundle of bank-notes. A bundle of bank-notes in +Prague may be not little, and yet represent very little money. When +bank-notes are passed for two-pence and become thick with use, a man +may have a great mass of paper currency in his pocket without being +rich. On this occasion, however, Ziska tendered to his uncle no +two-penny notes. There was a note for five florins, and two or three for +two florins, and perhaps half-a-dozen for a florin each, so that the +total amount offered was sufficient to be of real importance to one +so poor as Josef Balatka. + +<p>"This will help you awhile," said Ziska, "and if Nina will come round +and be a good girl, neither you nor she shall want anything; and she +need not be afraid of mother, if she will only do as I say." Balatka +had put out his hand and had taken the money, when the bedroom door was +opened, and Nina came in. + +<p>"What, Ziska," said she, "are you here?" + +<p>"Why not? why should I not see my uncle?" + +<p>"It is very good of you, certainly; only, as you never came before — " + +<p>"I mean it for kindness, now I have come, at any rate," said Ziska. + +<p>"Then I will take it for kindness," said Nina. + +<p>"Why should there be quarrelling among relatives?" said the old man +from among the bed-clothes. + +<p>"Why, indeed?" said Ziska. + +<p>"Why, indeed," said Nina, " — if it could be helped?" + +<p>She knew that the outward serenity of the words spoken was too good to +be a fair representation of thoughts below in the mind of any of them. +It could not be that Ziska had come there to express even his own +consent to her marriage with Anton Trendellsohn; and without such +consent there must of necessity be a continuation of quarrelling. "Have +you been speaking to father, Ziska, about those papers?" Nina was +determined that there should be no glozing of matters, no soft words +used effectually to stop her in her projected course. So she rushed at +once at the subject which she thought most important in Ziska's +presence. + +<p>"What papers?" said Ziska. + +<p>"The papers which belong to Anton Trendellsohn about this house and the +others. They are his, and you would not wish to keep things which +belong to another, even though he should be a — Jew." + +<p>Then it occurred to Ziska that Trendellsohn might be willing to give +up Nina if he got the papers, and that Nina might be willing to be +free from the Jew by the same arrangement. It could not be that such a +girl as Nina Balatka should prefer the love of a Jew to the love of a +Christian. So at least Ziska argued in his own mind. "I do not want to +keep anything that belongs to anybody," said Ziska. "If the papers are +with us, I am willing that they should be given up — that is, if it be +right that they should be given up." + +<p>"It is right," said Nina. + +<p>"I believe the Trendellsohns should have them — either father or son," +said old Balatka. + +<p>"Of course they should have them," said Nina; "either father or son — it +makes no matter which." + +<p>"I will try and see to it," said Ziska. + +<p>"Pray do," said Nina; "it will be only just; and one would not wish +to rob even a Jew, I suppose." Ziska understood nothing of what was +intended by the tone of her voice, and began to think that there might +really be ground for hope. + +<p>"Nina," he said, "your father is not quite well. I want you to speak to +me in the next room." + +<p>"Certainly, Ziska, if you wish it. Father, I will come again to you +soon. Souchey is making your soup, and I will bring it to you when it +is ready." Then she led the way into the sitting-room, and as Ziska +came through, she carefully shut the door. The walls dividing the rooms +were very thick, and the door stood in a deep recess, so that no sound +could be heard from one room to another. Nina did not wish that her +father should hear what might now pass between herself and her cousin, +and therefore she was careful to shut the door close. + +<p>"Ziska," said she, as soon as they were together, "I am very glad that +you have come here. My aunt is so angry with me that I cannot speak +with her, and uncle Karil only snubs me if I say a word to him about +business. He would snub me, no doubt, worse than ever now; and yet who +is there here to speak of such matters if I may not do so? You see how +it is with father." + +<p>"He is not able to do much, I suppose." + +<p>"He is able to do nothing, and there is nothing for him to do — nothing +that can be of any use. But of course he should see that those who have +been good to him are not — are not injured because of their kindness." + +<p>"You mean those Jews — the Trendellsohns." + +<p>"Yes, those Jews the Trendellsohns! You would not rob a man because he +is a Jew," said she, repeating the old words. + +<p>"They know how to take care of themselves, Nina." + +<p>"Very likely." + +<p>"They have managed to get all your father's property between them." + +<p>"I don't know how that is. Father says that the business which uncle +and you have was once his, and that he made it. In these matters the +weakest always goes to the wall. Father has no son to help him, as +uncle Karil has — and old Trendellsohn." + +<p>"You may help him better than any son." + +<p>"I will help him if I can. Will you and uncle give up those papers +which you have kept since father left them with uncle Karil, just that +they might be safe?" + +<p>This question Ziska would not answer at once. The matter was one on +which he wished to negotiate, and he was driven to the necessity of +considering what might be the best line for his diplomacy. "I am sure, +Ziska," continued Nina, "you will understand why I ask this. Father is +too weak to make the demand, and uncle would listen to nothing that +Anton Trendellsohn would say to him." + +<p>"They say that you have betrothed yourself to this Jew, Nina." + +<p>"It is true. But that has nothing to do with it." + +<p>"He is very anxious to have the deeds?" + +<p>"Of course he is anxious. Father is old and poorly; and what would he +do if father were to die?" + +<p>"Nina, he shall have them — if he will give you up." + +<p>Nina turned away from her cousin and looked out from the window into +the little court. Ziska could not see her face; but had he done so he +would not have been able to read the smile of triumph with which for a +moment or two it became brilliant. No; Anton would make no such bargain +as that! Anton loved her better than any title-deeds. Had he not told +her that she was his sun — the sun that gave to him light and heat? "If +they are his own, why should he be asked to make any such bargain?" +said Nina. + +<p>"Nina," said Ziska, throwing all his passion into his voice, as he best +knew how, "it cannot be that you should love this man." + +<p>"Why not love him?" + +<p>"A Jew!" + +<p>"Yes — a Jew! I do love him." + +<p>"Nina!" + +<p>"What have you to say, Ziska? Whatever you say, do not abuse him. It is +my affair, not yours. You may think what you like of me for taking such +a husband, but remember that he is to be my husband." + +<p>"Nina, let me be your husband." + +<p>"No, Ziska; that cannot be." + +<p>"I love you. I love you fifty times better than he can do. Is not a +Christian's love better than a Jew's?" + +<p>"Because I do not love you. Can there be any other reason in such a +matter? I do not love you. I do not care if I never see you. But him I +love with all my heart. To see him is the only delight of my life. To +sit beside him, with his hand in mine, and my head on his shoulder, is +heaven to me. To obey him is my duty; to serve him is my pleasure. To +be loved by him is the only good thing which God has given me on earth. +Now, Ziska, you will know why I cannot be your wife." Still she stood +before him, and still she looked up into his face, keeping her gaze +upon him even after her words were finished. + +<p>"Accursed Jew!" said Ziska. + +<p>"That is right, Ziska; curse him; it is so easy." + +<p>"And you too will be cursed — here and hereafter. If you marry a Jew you +will be accursed to all eternity." + +<p>"That, too, is very easy to say." + +<p>"It is not I who say it. The priest will tell you the same." + +<p>"Let him tell me so; it is his business, but it is not yours. You say +it because you cannot have what you want yourself; that is all. When +shall I call in the Ross Markt for the papers?" In the Ross Markt was +the house of business of Karil Zamenoy, and there, as Nina well knew, +were kept the documents which she was so anxious to obtain. But the +demand at this moment was made simply with the object of vexing Ziska, +and urging him on to further anger. + +<p>"Unless you will give up Anton Trendellsohn, you had better not come to +the Ross Markt." + +<p>"I will never give him up." + +<p>"We will see. Perhaps he will give you up after a while. It will be a +fine thing to be jilted by a Jew." + +<p>"The Jew, at any rate, shall not be jilted by the Christian. And now, +if you please, I will ask you to go. I do not choose to be insulted in +father's house. It is his house still." + +<p>"Nina, I will give you one more chance." + +<p>"You can give me no chance that will do you or me any good. If you will +go, that is all I want of you now." + +<p>For a moment or two Ziska stood in doubt as to what he would next do +or say. Then he took up his hat and went away without another word. On +that same evening some one rang the bell at the door of the house in +the Windberg-gasse in a most humble manner — with that weak, hesitating +hand which, by the tone which it produces, seems to insinuate that no +one need hurry to answer such an appeal, and that the answer, when +made, may be made by the lowest personage in the house. In this +instance, however, Lotta Luxa did answer the bell, and not the stout +Bohemian girl who acted in the household of Madame Zamenoy as assistant +and fag to Lotta. And Lotta found Nina at the door, enveloped in her +cloak. "Lotta," she said, "will you kindly give this to my cousin +Ziska?" Then, not waiting for a word, she started away so quickly that +Lotta had not a chance of speaking to her, no power of uttering an +audible word of abuse. When Ziska opened the parcel thus brought to +him, he found it to contain all the notes which he had given to Josef +Balatka. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> +</center> + +<p>When Nina returned to her father after Ziska's departure, a very few +words made everything clear between them. "I would not have him if +there was not another man in the world," Nina had said. "He thinks that +it is only Anton Trendellsohn that prevents it, but he knows nothing +about what a girl feels. He thinks that because we are poor I am to be +bought, this way or that way, by a little money. Is that a man, father, +that any girl can love?" Then the father had confessed his receipt of +the bank-notes from Ziska, and we already know to what result that +confession had led. + +<p>Till she had delivered her packet into the hands of Lotta Luxa, she +maintained her spirits by the excitement of the thing she was doing. +Though she should die in the streets of hunger, she would take no money +from Ziska Zamenoy. But the question now was not only of her wants, but +of her father's. That she, for herself, would be justified in returning +Ziska's money there could be no doubt; but was she equally justified in +giving back money that had been given to her father? As she walked to +the Windberg-gasse, still holding the parcel of notes in her hand, she +had no such qualms of conscience; but as she returned, when it was +altogether too late for repentance, she made pictures to herself of +terrible scenes in which her father suffered all the pangs of want, +because she had compelled him to part with this money. If she were to +say one word to Anton Trendellsohn, all her trouble on that head would +be over. Anton Trendellsohn would at once give her enough to satisfy +their immediate wants. In a month or two, when she would be Anton's +wife, she would not be ashamed to take everything from his hand; and +why should she be ashamed now to take something from him to whom she +was prepared to give everything? But she was ashamed to do so. She felt +that she could not go to him and ask him for bread. One other resource +she had. There remained to her of her mother's property a necklace, +which was all that was left to her from her mother. And when this +had been given to her at her mother's death, she had been specially +enjoined not to part with it. Her father then had been too deeply +plunged in grief to say any words on such a subject, and the gift had +been put into her hands by her aunt Sophie. Even aunt Sophie had been +softened at that moment, and had shown some tenderness to the orphan +child. "You are to keep it always for her sake," aunt Sophie had said; +and Nina had hitherto kept the trinket, when all other things were +gone, in remembrance of her mother. She had hitherto reconciled herself +to keeping her little treasure, when all other things were going, by +the sacredness of the deposit; and had told herself that even for her +father's sake she must not part with the gift which had come to her +from her mother. But now she comforted herself by the reflection that +the necklace would produce for her enough to repay her father that +present from Ziska which she had taken from him. Her father had pleaded +sorely to be allowed to keep the notes. In her emotion at the moment +she had been imperative with him, and her resolution had prevailed. But +she thought of his entreaties as she returned home, and of his poverty +and wants, and she determined that the necklace should go. It would +produce for her at any rate as much as Ziska had given. She wished that +she had brought it with her, as she passed the open door of a certain +pawnbroker, which she had entered often during the last six months, and +whither she intended to take her treasure, so that she might comfort +her father on her return with the sight of the money. But she had it +not, and she went home empty-handed. "And now, Nina, I suppose we may +starve," said her father, whom she found sitting close to the stove in +the kitchen, while Souchey was kneeling before it, putting in at the +little open door morsels of fuel which were lamentably insufficient for +the poor man's purpose of raising a fire. The weather, indeed, was as +yet warm — so warm that in the middle of the day the heat was matter of +complaint to Josef Balatka; but in the evening he would become chill; +and as there existed some small necessity for cooking, he would beg +that he might thus enjoy the warmth of the kitchen. + +<p>"Yes, we shall starve now," said Souchey, complacently. "There is not +much doubt about our starving." + +<p>"Souchey, I wonder you should speak like that before father," said +Nina. + +<p>"And why shouldn't he speak?" said Balatka. "I think he has as much +right as any one." + +<p>"He has no right to make things worse than they are." + +<p>"I don't know how I could do that, Nina," said the servant. "What made +you take that money back to your aunt?" + +<p>"I didn't take it back to my aunt." + +<p>"Well, to any of the family then? I suppose it came from your aunt?" + +<p>"It came from my cousin Ziska, and I thought it better to give it back. +Souchey, do not you come in between father and me. There are troubles +enough; do not you make them worse." + +<p>"If I had been here you should never have taken it back again," said +Souchey, obstinately. + +<p>"Father," said Nina, appealing to the old man, "how could I have kept +it? You knew why it was given." + +<p>"Who is to help us if we may not take it from them?" + +<p>"To-morrow," said Nina, "I can get as much as he brought. And I will, +and you shall see it." + +<p>"Who will give it you, Nina?" + +<p>"Never mind, father, I will have it." + +<p>"She will beg it from her Jew lover," said Souchey. + +<p>"Souchey," said she, with her eyes flashing fire at him, "if you cannot +treat your master's daughter better than that, you may as well go." + +<p>"Is it not true?" demanded Souchey. + +<p>"No, it is not true; it is false. I have never taken money from Anton; +nor shall I do so till we are married." + +<p>"And that will be never," said Souchey. "It is as well to speak out at +once. The priest will not let it be done." + +<p>"All the priests in Prague cannot hinder it," said Nina. + +<p>"That is true," said Balatka. + +<p>"We shall see," said Souchey. "And in the mean time what is the good +of fighting with the Zamenoys? They are your only friends, Nina, and +therefore you take delight in quarrelling with them. When people have +money, they should be allowed to have a little pride." Nina said +nothing further on the occasion, though Souchey and her father went +on grumbling for an hour. She discovered, however, from various words +that her father allowed to fall from him, that his opposition to her +marriage had nearly faded away. It seemed to be his opinion that if she +were to marry the Jew, the sooner she did it the better. Now, Nina was +determined that she would marry the Jew, though heaven and earth should +meet in consequence. She would marry him if he would marry her. They +had told her that the Jew would jilt her. She did not put much faith in +the threat; but even that was more probable than that she should jilt +him. + +<p>On the following morning Souchey, in return, as it were, for his +cruelty to his young mistress on the preceding day, produced some small +store of coin which he declared to be the result of a further sale of +the last relics of his master's property; and Nina's journey with the +necklace to the pawnbroker was again postponed. That day and the next +were passed in the old house without anything to make them memorable +except their wearisome misery, and then Nina again went out to visit +the Jews' quarter. She told herself that she was taken there by the +duties of her position; but in truth she could hardly bear her life +without the comfort of seeing the only person who would speak kindly +to her. She was engaged to marry this man, but she did not know when +she was to be married. She would ask no question of her lover on that +matter; but she could tell him — and she felt herself bound to tell him + — what was really her own position, and also all that she knew of his +affairs. He had given her to understand that he could not marry her +till he had obtained possession of certain documents which he believed +to be in the possession of her uncle. And for these documents she, with +his permission, had made application. She had at any rate discovered +that they certainly were at the office in the Ross Markt. So much she +had learned from Ziska; and so much, at any rate, she was bound to make +known to her lover. And, moreover, since she had seen him she had told +all her relatives of her engagement. They all knew now that she loved +the Jew, and that she had resolved to marry him; and of this also it +was her duty to give him tidings. The result of her communication to +her father and her relatives in the Windberg-gasse had been by no means +so terrible as she had anticipated. The heavens and the earth had not +as yet shown any symptoms of coming together. Her aunt, indeed, had +been very angry; and Lotta Luxa and Souchey had told her that such a +marriage would not be allowed. Ziska, too, had said some sharp words; +and her father, for the first day or two, had expostulated. But the +threats had been weak threats, and she did not find herself to be +annihilated — indeed, hardly to be oppressed — by the scolding of any +of them. What the priest might say she had not yet experienced; but +opposition from other quarters had not as yet come upon her in any +form that was not endurable. Her aunt had intended to consume her with +wrath, but Nina had not found herself to be consumed. All this it was +necessary that she should tell to Anton Trendellsohn. It was grievous +to her that it should be always her lot to go to her lover, and that he +should never — almost never — be able to seek her. It would in truth be +never now, unless she could induce her father to receive Anton openly +as his acknowledged future son-in-law; and she could hardly hope that +her father would yield so far as that. Other girls, she knew, stayed +till their lovers came to them, or met them abroad in public places — at +the gardens and music-halls, or perhaps at church; but no such joys as +these were within reach of Nina. The public gardens, indeed, were open +to her and to Anton Trendellsohn as they were to others; but she knew +that she would not dare to be seen in public with her Jew lover till +the thing was done and she and the Jew had become man and wife. On this +occasion, before she left her home, she was careful to tell her father +where she was going. "Have you any message to the Trendellsohns?" she +asked. + +<p>"So you are going there again?" her father said. + +<p>"Yes, I must see them. I told you that I had a commission from them to +the Zamenoys, which I have performed, and I must let them know what I +did. Besides, father, if this man is to be my husband, is it not well +that I should see him?" Old Balatka groaned, but said nothing further, +and Nina went forth to the Jews' quarter. + +<p>On this occasion she found Trendellsohn the elder standing at the door +of his own house. + +<p>"You want to see Anton," said the Jew. Anton is out. He is away +somewhere in the city — on business." + +<p>"I shall be glad to see you, father, if you can spare me a minute." + +<p>"Certainly, my child — an hour if it will serve you. Hours are not +scarce with me now, as they used to be when I was Anton's age, and as +they are with him now. Hours, and minutes too, are very scarce with +Anton in these days. Then he led the way up the dark stairs to the +sitting-room, and Nina followed him. Nina and the elder Trendellsohn +had always hitherto been friends. Before her engagement with his son +they had been affectionate friends, and since that had been made known +to him there had been no quarrel between them. But the old man had +hardly approved of his son's purpose, thinking that a Jew should look +for the wife of his bosom among his own people, and thinking also, +perhaps, that one who had so much of worldly wealth to offer as his +son should receive something also of the same in his marriage. Old +Trendellsohn had never uttered a word of complaint to Nina — had said +nothing to make her suppose that she was not welcome to the house; but +he had never spoken to her with happy, joy-giving words, as the future +bride of his son. He still called her his daughter, as he had done +before; but he did it only in his old fashion, using the affectionate +familiarity of an old friend to a young maiden. He was a small, aged +man, very thin and meagre in aspect — so meagre as to conceal in part, +by the general tenuity of his aspect, the shortness of his stature. +He was not even so tall as Nina, as Nina had discovered, much to her +surprise. His hair was grizzled, rather than grey, and the beard on his +thin, wiry, wizened face was always close shorn. He was scrupulously +clean in his person, and seemed, even at his age, to take a pride in +the purity and fineness of his linen. He was much older than Nina's +father — more than ten years older, as he would sometimes boast; but he +was still strong and active, while Nina's father was worn out with age. +Old Trendellsohn was eighty, and yet he would be seen trudging about +through the streets of Prague, intent upon his business of money-making; +and it was said that his son Anton was not even as yet actually in +partnership with him, or fully trusted by him in all his plans. + +<p>"Father," Nina said, "I am glad that Anton is out, as now I can speak a +word to you." + +<p>"My dear, you shall speak fifty words." + +<p>"That is very good of you. Of course I know that the house we live in +does in truth belong to you and Anton." + +<p>"Yes, it belongs to me," said the Jew. + +<p>"And we can pay no rent for it." + +<p>"Is it of that you have come to speak, Nina? If so, do not trouble +yourself. For certain reasons, which Anton can explain, I am willing +that your father should live there without rent." + +<p>Nina blushed as she found herself compelled to thank the Jew for his +charity. "I know how kind you have been to father," she said. + +<p>"Nay, my daughter, there has been no great kindness in it. Your father +has been unfortunate, and, Jew as I am, I would not turn him into the +street. Do not trouble yourself to think of it." + +<p>"But it was not altogether about that, father. Anton spoke to me the +other day about some deeds which should belong to you." + +<p>"They do belong to me," said Trendellsohn. + +<p>"But you have them not in your own keeping." + +<p>"No, we have not. It is, I believe, the creed of a Christian that +he may deal dishonestly with a Jew, though the Jew who shall deal +dishonestly with a Christian is to be hanged. It is strange what +latitude men will give themselves under the cloak of their religion! +But why has Anton spoken to you of this? I did not bid him." + +<p>"He sent me with a message to my aunt Sophie." + +<p>"He was wrong; he was very foolish; he should have gone himself." + +<p>"But, father, I have found out that the papers you want are certainly +in my uncle's keeping in the Ross Markt." + +<p>"Of course they are, my dear. Anton might have known that without +employing you." + +<p>So far Nina had performed but a small part of the task which she had +before her. She found it easier to talk to the old man about the +title-deeds of the house in the Kleinseite than she did to tell him of +her own affairs. But the thing was to be done, though the doing of it +was difficult; and, after a pause, she persevered. "And I told aunt +Sophie," she said, with her eyes turned upon the ground, "of my +engagement with Anton." + +<p>"You did?" + +<p>"Yes; and I told father." + +<p>"And what did your father say?" + +<p>"Father did not say much. He is poorly and weak." + +<p>"Yes, yes; not strong enough to fight against the abomination of a Jew +son-in-law. And what did your aunt say? She is strong enough to fight +anybody." + +<p>"She was very angry." + +<p>"I suppose so, I suppose so. Well, she is right. As the world goes in +Prague, my child, you will degrade yourself by marrying a Jew." + +<p>"I want nothing prouder than to be Anton's wife," said Nina. + +<p>"And to speak sooth," said the old man, "the Jew will degrade himself +fully as much by marrying you." + +<p>"Father, I would not have that. If I thought that my love would injure +him, I would leave him." + +<p>"He must judge for himself," said Trendellsohn, relenting somewhat. + +<p>"He must judge for himself and for me too," said Nina. + +<p>"He will be able, at any rate, to keep a house over your head." + +<p>"It is not for that," said Nina, thinking of her cousin Ziska's offer. +She need not want for a house and money if she were willing to sell +herself for such things as them. + +<p>"Anton will be rich, Nina, and you are very poor." + +<p>"Can I help that, father? Such as I am, I am his. If all Prague were +mine I would give it to him." + +<p>The old man shook his head. "A Christian thinks that it is too much +honour for a Jew to marry a Christian, though he be rich, and she have +not a ducat for her dower." + +<p>"Father, your words are cruel. Do you believe I would give Anton my +hand if I did not love him? I do not know much of his wealth; but, +father, I might be the promised wife of a Christian to-morrow, who is, +perhaps, as rich as he — if that were anything." + +<p>"And who is that other lover, Nina?" + +<p>"It matters not. He can be nothing to me — nothing in that way. I love +Anton Trendellsohn, and I could not be the wife of any other but him." + +<p>"I wish it were otherwise. I tell you so plainly to your face. I wish +it were otherwise. Jews and Christians have married in Prague, I know, +but good has never come of it. Anton should find a wife among his own +people; and you — it would be better for you to take that other offer of +which you spoke." + +<p>"It is too late, father." + +<p>"No, Nina, it is not too late. If Anton would be wise, it is not too +late." + +<p>"Anton can do as he pleases. It is too late for me. If Anton thinks it +well to change his mind, I shall not reproach him. You can tell him so, +father — from me." + +<p>"He knows my mind already, Nina. I will tell him, however, what you say +of your own friends. They have heard of your engagement, and are angry +with you, of course." + +<p>"Aunt Sophie and her people are angry." + +<p>"Of course they will oppose it. They will set their priests at you, and +frighten you almost to death. They will drive the life out of your +young heart with their curses. You do not know what sorrows are before +you." + +<p>"I can bear all that. There is only one sorrow that I fear. If Anton is +true to me, I will not mind all the rest." + +<p>The old man's heart was softened towards her. He could not bring +himself to say a word to her of direct encouragement, but he kissed her +before she went, telling her that she was a good girl, and bidding her +have no care as to the house in the Kleinseite. As long as he lived, +and her father, her father should not be disturbed. And as for deeds, +he declared, with something of a grim smile on his old visage, that +though a Jew had always a hard fight to get his own from a Christian, +the hard fighting did generally prevail at last. "We shall get them, +Nina, when they have put us to such trouble and expense as their +laws may be able to devise. Anton knows that as well as I do." + +<p>At the door of the house Nina found the old man's grand-daughter +waiting for her. Ruth Jacobi was the girl's name, and she was the +orphaned child of a daughter of old Trendellsohn. Father and mother +were both dead; and of her father, who had been dead long, Ruth had +no memory. But she still wore some remains of the black garments which +had been given to her at her mother's funeral; and she still grieved +bitterly for her mother, having no woman with her in that gloomy house, +and no other child to comfort her. Her grandfather and her uncle were +kind to her — kind after their own gloomy fashion; but it was a sad +house for a young girl, and Ruth, though she knew nothing of any better +abode, found the days to be very long, and the months to be very +wearisome. + +<p>"What has he been saying to you, Nina?" the girl asked, taking hold of +her friend's dress, to prevent her escape into the street. "You need +not be in a hurry for a minute. He will not come down." + +<p>"I am not afraid of him. Ruth." + +<p>"I am, then. But perhaps he is not cross to you." + +<p>"Why should he be cross to me?" + +<p>"I know why, Nina, but I will not say. Uncle Anton has been out all the +day, and was not home to dinner. It is much worse when he is away." + +<p>"Is Anton ever cross to you, Ruth?" + +<p>"Indeed he is — sometimes. He scolds much more than grandfather. But he +is younger, you know." + +<p>"Yes; he is younger, certainly." + +<p>"Not but what he is very old, too; much too old for you, Nina. When I +have a lover I will never have an old man." + +<p>"But Anton is not old." + +<p>"Not like grandfather, of course. But I should like a lover who would +laugh and be gay. Uncle Anton is never gay. My lover shall be only two +years older than myself. Uncle Anton must be twenty years older than +you, Nina." + +<p>"Not more than ten — or twelve at the most." + +<p>"He is too old to laugh and dance." + +<p>"Not at all, dear; but he thinks of other things." + +<p>"I should like a lover to think of the things that I think about. It is +all very well being steady when you have got babies of your own; but +that should be after ever so long. I should like to keep my lover as a +lover for two years. And all that time he should like to dance with me, +and to hear music, and to go about just where I would like to go." + +<p>"And what then, Ruth?" + +<p>"Then? Why, then I suppose I should marry him, and become stupid like +the rest. But I should have the two years to look back at and to +remember. Do you think, Nina, that you will ever come and live here +when you are married?" + +<p>"I do not know that I shall ever be married, Ruth." + +<p>"But you mean to marry uncle Anton?" + +<p>"I cannot say. It may be so." + +<p>"But you love him, Nina?" + +<p>"Yes, I love him. I love him with all my heart. I love him better than +all the world besides. Ruth, you cannot tell how I love him. I would +lie down and die if he were to bid me." + +<p>"He will never bid you do that." + +<p>"You think that he is old, and dull, and silent, and cross. But when he +will sit still and not say a word to me for an hour together, I think +that I almost love him the best. I only want to be near him, Ruth." + +<p>"But you do not like him to be cross." + +<p>"Yes, I do. That is, I like him to scold me if he is angry. If he were +angry, and did not scold a little, I should think that he was really +vexed with me." + +<p>Then you must be very much in love, Nina?" + +<p>"I am in love — very much." + +<p>"And does it make you happy?" + +<p>"Happy! Happiness depends on so many things. But it makes me feel that +there can only be one real unhappiness; and unless that should come to +me, I shall care for nothing. Good-bye, love. Tell your uncle that I +was here, and say — say to him when no one else can hear, that I went +away with a sad heart because I had not seen him." + +<p>It was late in the evening when Anton Trendellsohn came home, but Ruth +remembered the message that had been intrusted to her, and managed to +find a moment in which to deliver it. But her uncle took it amiss, and +scolded her. "You two have been talking nonsense together here half the +day, I suppose." + +<p>"I spoke to her for five minutes, uncle; that was all." + +<p>"Did you do your lessons with Madame Pulsky?" + +<p>"Yes, I did, uncle — of course. You know that." + +<p>"I know that it is a pity you should not be better looked after." + +<p>"Bring Nina home here and she will look after me." + +<p>"Go to bed, miss — at once, do you hear?" + +<p>Then Ruth went off to her bed, wondering at Nina's choice, and +declaring to herself, that if ever she took in hand a lover at all, he +should be a lover very different from her uncle, Anton Trendellsohn. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER V</h3> +</center> + +<p>The more Madame Zamenoy thought of the terrible tidings which had +reached her, the more determined did she become to prevent the +degradation of the connection with which she was threatened. She +declared to her husband and son that all Prague were already talking +of the horror, forgetting, perhaps, that any knowledge which Prague had +on the subject must have come from herself. She had, indeed, consulted +various persons on the subject in the strictest confidence. We have +already seen that she had told Lotta Luxa and her son, and she had, of +course, complained frequently on the matter to her husband. She had +unbosomed herself to one or two trusty female friends who lived near +her, and she had applied for advice and assistance to two priests. +To Father Jerome she had gone as Nina's confessor, and she had also +applied to the reverend pastor who had the charge of her own little +peccadilloes. The small amount of assistance which her clerical allies +offered to her had surprised her very much. She had, indeed, gone so +far as to declare to Lotta that she was shocked by their indifference. +Her own confessor had simply told her that the matter was in the hands +of Father Jerome, as far as it could be said to belong to the Church at +all; and had satisfied his conscience by advising his dear friend to +use all the resources which female persecution put at her command. "You +will frighten her out of it, Madame Zamenoy, if you go the right way +about it," said the priest. Madame Zamenoy was well inclined to go the +right way about it, if she only knew how. She would make Nina's life a +burden to her if she could only get hold of the girl, and would scruple +at no threats as to this world or the next. But she thought that her +priest ought to have done more for her in such a crisis than simply +giving her such ordinary counsel. Things were not as they used to be, +she knew; but there was even yet something of the prestige of power +left to the Church, and there were convents with locks and bars, and +excommunication might still be made terrible, and public opinion, in +the shape of outside persecution, might, as Madame Zamenoy thought, +have been brought to bear. Nor did she get much more comfort from +Father Jerome. His reliance was placed chiefly on operations to be +carried on with the Jew; and, failing them, on the opposition which +the Jew would experience among his own people. "They think more of it +than we do," said Father Jerome. + +<p>"How can that be, Father Jerome?" + +<p>"Well, they do. He would lose caste among all his friends by such a +marriage, and would, I think, destroy all his influence among them. +When he perceives this more fully he will be shy enough about it +himself. Besides, what is he to get?" + +<p>"He will get nothing." + +<p>"He will think better of it. And you might manage something with those +deeds. Of course he should have them sooner or later, but they might be +surrendered as the price of his giving her up. I should say it might be +managed." + +<p>All this was not comfortable for Madame Zamenoy; and she fretted and +fumed till her husband had no peace in his house, and Ziska almost +wished that he might hear no more of the Jew and his betrothal. She +could not even commence her system of persecution, as Nina did not go +near her, and had already told Lotta Luxa that she must decline to +discuss the question of her marriage any further. So, at last, Madame +Zamenoy found herself obliged to go over in person to the house in the +Kleinseite. Such visits had for many years been very rare with her. +Since her sister's death and the days in which the Balatkas had been +prosperous, she had preferred that all intercourse between the two +families should take place at her own house; and thus, as Josef Balatka +himself rarely left his own door, she had not seen him for more than +two years. Frequent intercourse, however, had been maintained, and aunt +Sophie knew very well how things were going on in the Kleinseite. Lotta +had no compunctions as to visiting the house, and Lotta's eyes were +very sharp. And Nina had been frequently in the Windberg-gasse, having +hitherto believed it to be her duty to attend to her aunt's behests. +But Nina was no longer obedient, and Madame Zamenoy was compelled to +go herself to her brother-in-law, unless she was disposed to leave the +Balatkas absolutely to their fate. Let her do what she would, Nina must +be her niece, and therefore she would yet make a struggle. + +<p>On this occasion Madame Zamenoy walked on foot, thinking that her +carriage and horses might be too conspicuous at the arched gate in +the little square. The carriage did not often make its way over the +bridge into the Kleinseite, being used chiefly among the suburbs of the +New Town, where it was now well known and quickly recognised; and she +did not think that this was a good opportunity for breaking into new +ground with her equipage. She summoned Lotta to attend her, and after +her one o'clock dinner took her umbrella in her hand and went forth. +She was a stout woman, probably not more than forty-five years of age, +but a little heavy, perhaps from too much indulgence with her carriage. +She walked slowly, therefore; and Lotta, who was nimble of foot and +quick in all her ways, thanked her stars that it did not suit her +mistress to walk often through the city. + +<p>"How very long the bridge is, Lotta!" said Madame Zamenoy. + +<p>"Not longer, ma'am, than it always has been," said Lotta, pertly. + +<p>"Of course it is not longer than it always has been; I know that; but +still I say it is very long. Bridges are not so long in other places." + +<p>"Not where the rivers are narrower," said Lotta. Madame Zamenoy trudged +on, finding that she could get no comfort from her servant, and at last +reached Balatka's door. Lotta, who was familiar with the place, entered +the house first, and her mistress followed her. Hanging about the broad +passage which communicated with all the rooms on the ground-floor, they +found Souchey, who told them that his master was in bed, and that Nina +was at work by his bedside. He was sent in to announce the grand +arrival, and when Madame Zamenoy entered the sitting-room Nina was +there to meet her. + +<p>"Child," she said, "I have come to see your father." + +<p>"Father is in bed, but you can come in," said Nina. + +<p>"Of course I can go in," said Madame Zamenoy, "but before I go in let +me know this. Has he heard of the disgrace which you purpose to bring +upon him?" + +<p>Nina drew herself up and made no answer; whereupon Lotta spoke. "The +old gentleman knows all about it, ma'am, as well as you do." + +<p>"Lotta, let the child speak for herself. Nina, have you had the +audacity to tell your father — that which you told me?" + +<p>"I have told him everything," said Nina; "will you come into his room?" +Then Madame Zamenoy lifted up the hem of her garment and stepped +proudly into the old man's chamber. + +<p>By this time Balatka knew what was about to befall him, and was making +himself ready for the visit. He was well aware that he should be sorely +perplexed as to what he should say in the coming interview. He could +not speak lightly of such an evil as this marriage with a Jew; nor when +his sister-in-law should abuse the Jews could he dare to defend them. +But neither could he bring himself to say evil words of Nina, or to +hear evil words spoken of her without making some attempt to screen +her. It might be best, perhaps, to lie under the bed-clothes and say +nothing, if only his sister-in-law would allow him to lie there. "Am +I to come in with you, aunt Sophie?" said Nina. "Yes child," said the +aunt; "come and hear what I have to say to your father." So Nina +followed her aunt, and Lotta and Souchey were left in the sitting-room. + +<p>"And how are you, Souchey?" said Lotta, with unusual kindness of tone. +"I suppose you are not so busy but you can stay with me a few minutes +while she is in there?" + +<p>"There is not so much to do that I cannot spare the time," said +Souchey. + +<p>"Nothing to do, I suppose, and less to get?" said Lotta. + +<p>"That's about it, Lotta; but you wouldn't have had me leave them?" + +<p>"A man has to look after himself in the world; but you were always +easy-minded, Souchey." + +<p>"I don't know about being so easy-minded. I know what would make me +easy-minded enough." + +<p>"You'll have to be servant to a Jew now." + +<p>"No; I'll never be that." + +<p>"I suppose he gives you something at odd times?" + +<p>"Who? Trendellsohn? I never saw the colour of his money yet, and do not +wish to see it." + +<p>"But he comes here — sometimes?" + +<p>"Never, Lotta. I haven't seen Anton Trendellsohn within the doors these +six months." + +<p>"But she goes to him?" + +<p>"Yes; she goes to him." + +<p>"That's worse — a deal worse." + +<p>"I told her how it was when I saw her trotting off so often to the +Jews' quarter. 'You see too much of Anton Trendellsohn,' I said to her; +but it didn't do any good." + +<p>"You should have come to us, and have told us." + +<p>"What, Madame there? I could never have brought myself to that; she is +so upsetting, Lotta." + +<p>"She is upsetting, no doubt; but she don't upset me. Why didn't you +tell me, Souchey?" + +<p>"Well, I thought that if I said a word to her, perhaps that would be +enough. Who could believe that she would throw herself at once into a +Jew's arms — such a fellow as Anton Trendellsohn, too, old enough to be +her father, and she the bonniest girl in all Prague?" + +<p>"Handsome is that handsome does, Souchey." + +<p>"I say she's the sweetest girl in all Prague; and more's the pity she +should have taken such a fancy as this." + +<p>"She mustn't marry him, of course, Souchey." + +<p>"Not if it can be helped, Lotta." + +<p>"It must be helped. You and I must help it, if no one else can do so." + +<p>"That's easy said, Lotta." + +<p>"We can do it, if we are minded — that is, if you are minded. Only think +what a thing it would be for her to be the wife of a Jew! Think of her +soul, Souchey!" + +<p>Souchey shuddered. He did not like being told of people's souls, +feeling probably that the misfortunes of this world were quite +heavy enough for a poor wight like himself, without any addition in +anticipation of futurity. "Think of her soul, Souchey," repeated Lotta, +who was at all points a good churchwoman. + +<p>"It's bad enough any way," said Souchey. + +<p>"And there's our Ziska would take her to-morrow in spite of the Jew." + +<p>"Would he now?" + +<p>"That he would, without anything but what she stands up in. And he'd +behave very handsome to anyone that would help him." + +<p>"He'd be the first of his name that ever did, then. I have known the +time when old Balatka there, poor as he is now, would give a florin +when Karil Zamenoy begrudged six kreutzers." + +<p>"And what has come of such giving? Josef Balatka is poor, and Karil +Zamenoy bids fair to be as rich as any merchant in Prague. But no +matter about that. Will you give a helping hand? There is nothing I +wouldn't do for you, Souchey, if we could manage this between us." + +<p>"Would you now?" And Souchey drew near, as though some closer bargain +might be practicable between them. + +<p>"I would indeed; but, Souchey, talking won't do it." + +<p>"What will do it?" + +<p>Lotta paused a moment, looking round the room carefully, till suddenly +her eyes fell on a certain article which lay on Nina's work-table. +"What am I to do?" said Souchey, anxious to be at work with the +prospect of so great a reward. + +<p>"Never mind," said Lotta, whose tone of voice was suddenly changed. +"Never mind it now at least. And, Souchey, I think you'd better +go to your work. We've been gossiping here ever so long." + +<p>"Perhaps five minutes; and what does it signify?" + +<p>"She'd think it so odd to find us here together in the parlour." + +<p>"Not odd at all." + +<p>"Just as though we'd been listening to what they'd been saying. Go now, +Souchey — there's a good fellow; and I'll come again the day after +to-morrow and tell you. Go, I say. There are things that I must think of +by myself." And in this way she got Souchey to leave the room. + +<p>"Josef," said Madame Zamenoy, as she took her place standing by +Balatka's bedside — "Josef, this is very terrible." Nina also was +standing close by her father's head, with her hand upon her father's +pillow. Balatka groaned, but made no immediate answer. + +<p>"It is terrible, horrible, abominable, and damnable," said Madame +Zamenoy, bringing out one epithet after the other with renewed energy. +Balatka groaned again. What could he say in reply to such an address? + +<p>"Aunt Sophie," said Nina, "do not speak to father like that. He is +ill." + +<p>"Child," said Madame Zamenoy, "I shall speak as I please. I shall speak +as my duty bids me speak. Josef, this that I hear is very terrible. It +is hardly to be believed that any Christian girl should think of +marrying — a Jew." + +<p>"What can I do?" said the father. "How can I prevent her?" + +<p>"How can you prevent her, Josef? Is she not your daughter? Does she +mean to say, standing there, that she will not obey her father? Tell +me. Nina, will you or will you not obey your father?" + +<p>"That is his affair, aunt Sophie; not yours." + +<p>"His affair! It is his affair, and my affair, and all our affairs. +Impudent girl! — brazen-faced, impudent, bad girl! Do you not know that +you would bring disgrace upon us all?" + +<p>"You are thinking about yourself, aunt Sophie; and I must think for +myself." + +<p>"You do not regard your father, then?" + +<p>"Yes, I do regard my father. He knows that I regard him. Father, is it +true that I do not regard you?" + +<p>"She is a good daughter," said the father. + +<p>"A good daughter, and talk of marrying a Jew!" said Madame Zamenoy. +"Has she your permission for such a marriage? Tell me that at once, +Josef, that I may know. Has she your sanction for — for — for this +accursed abomination?" Then there was silence in the room for a few +moments. "You can at any rate answer a plain question, Josef," +continued Madame Zamenoy. "Has Nina your leave to betroth herself to +the Jew, Trendellsohn?" + +<p>"No, I have not got his leave," said Nina. + +<p>"I am speaking to your father, miss," said the enraged aunt. + +<p>"Yes; you are speaking very roughly to father, and he is ill. Therefore +I answer for him." + +<p>"And has he not forbidden you to think of marrying this Jew?" + +<p>"No, he has not," said Nina. + +<p>"Josef, answer for yourself like a man," said Madame Zamenoy. "Have you +not forbidden this marriage? Do you not forbid it now? Let me at any +rate hear you say that you have forbidden it." But Balatka found +silence to be his easiest course, and answered not at all. "What am I +to think of this?" continued Madame Zamenoy. "It cannot be that you +wish your child to be the wife of a Jew!" + +<p>"You are to think, aunt Sophie, that father is ill, and that he cannot +stand against your violence." + +<p>"Violence, you wicked girl! It is you that are violent." + +<p>"Will you come out into the parlour, aunt?" + +<p>"No, I will not come out into the parlour. I will not stir from +this spot till I have told your father all that I think about it. +Ill, indeed! What matters illness when it is a question of eternal +damnation!" Madame Zamenoy put so much stress upon the latter word +that her brother-in-law almost jumped from under the bed-clothes. Nina +raised herself, as she was standing, to her full height, and a smile of +derision came upon her face. "Oh, yes! I daresay you do not mind it," +said Madame Zamenoy. "I daresay you can laugh now at all the pains of +hell. Castaways such as you are always blind to their own danger; but +your father, I hope, has not fallen so far as to care nothing for his +religion, though he seems to have forgotten what is due to his family." + +<p>"I have forgotten nothing," said old Balatka. + +<p>"Why then do you not forbid her to do this thing?" demanded Madame +Zamenoy. But the old man had recognised too well the comparative +security of silence to be drawn into argument, and therefore merely hid +himself more completely among the clothes. "Am I to get no answer from +you, Josef?" said Madame Zamenoy. No answer came, and therefore she was +driven to turn again upon Nina. + +<p>"Why are you doing this thing, you poor deluded creature? Is it the +man's money that tempts you?" + +<p>"It is not the man's money. If money could tempt me, I could have it +elsewhere, as you know." + +<p>"It cannot be love for such a man as that. Do you not know that he and +his father between them have robbed your father of everything?" + +<p>"I know nothing of the kind." + +<p>"They have; and he is now making a fool of you in order that he may get +whatever remains." + +<p>"Nothing remains. He will get nothing." + +<p>"Nor will you. I do not believe that after all he will ever marry you. +He will not be such a fool." + +<p>"Perhaps not, aunt; and in that case you will have your wish." + +<p>"But no one can ever speak to you again after such a condition. Do you +think that I or your uncle could have you at our house when all the +world shall know that you have been jilted by a Jew?" + +<p>"I will not trouble you by going to your house." + +<p>"And is that all the satisfaction I am to have?" + +<p>"What do you want me to say?" + +<p>I want you to say that you will give this man up, and return to your +duty as a Christian." + +<p>"I will never give him up — never. I would sooner die." + +<p>"Very well. Then I shall know how to act. You will not be a bit nearer +marrying him; I can promise you that. You are mistaken if you think +that in such a matter as this a girl like you can do just as she +pleases." Then she turned again upon the poor man in bed. "Josef +Balatka, I am ashamed of you. I am indeed — I am ashamed of you." + +<p>"Aunt Sophie," said Nina, "now that you are here, you can say what you +please to me; but you might as well spare father." + +<p>"I will not spare him. I am ashamed of him — thoroughly ashamed of him. +What can I think of him when he will lie there and not say a word to +save his daughter from the machinations of a filthy Jew?" + +<p>"Anton Trendellsohn is not a filthy Jew." + +<p>"He is a robber. He has cheated your father out of everything." + +<p>"He is no robber. He has cheated no one. I know who has cheated father, +if you come to that." + +<p>"Whom do you mean, hussey?" + +<p>"I shall not answer you; but you need not tell me any more about the +Jews cheating us. Christians can cheat as well as Jews, and can rob +from their own flesh and blood too. I do not care for your threats, +aunt Sophie, nor for your frowns. I did care for them, but you have +said that which makes it impossible that I should regard them any +further." + +<p>"And this is what I get for all my trouble — for all your uncle's +generosity!" Again Nina smiled. "But I suppose the Jew gives more than +we have given, and therefore is preferred. You poor creature — poor +wretched creature!" + +<p>During all this time Balatka remained silent; and at last, after very +much more scolding, in which Madame Zamenoy urged again and again the +terrible threat of eternal punishment, she prepared herself for going. +"Lotta Luxa," she said, " — where is Lotta Luxa?" She opened the door, +and found Lotta Luxa seated demurely by the window. "Lotta," she said, +"I shall go now, and shall never come back to this unfortunate house. +You hear what I say; I shall never return here. As she makes her bed, +so must she lie on it. It is her own doing, and no one can save her. +For my part, I think that the Jew has bewitched her." + +<p>"Like enough," said Lotta. + +<p>"When once we stray from the Holy Church, there is no knowing what +terrible evils may come upon us," said Madame Zamenoy. + +<p>"No indeed, ma'am," said Lotta Luxa. + +<p>"But I have done all in my power." + +<p>"That you have, ma'am." + +<p>"I feel quite sure, Lotta, that the Jew will never marry her. Why +should a man like that, who loves money better than his soul, marry a +girl who has not a kreutzer to bless herself?" + +<p>"Why indeed, ma'am! It's my mind that he don't think of marrying her." + +<p>"And, Jew as he is, he cares for his religion. He will not bring +trouble upon everybody belonging to him by taking a Christian for his +wife." + +<p>"That he will not, ma'am, you may be sure," said Lotta. + +<p>"And where will she be then? Only fancy, Lotta — to have been jilted by +a Jew!" Then Madame Zamenoy, without addressing herself directly to +Nina, walked out of the room; but as she did so she paused in the +doorway, and again spoke to Lotta. "To be jilted by a Jew, Lotta! Think +of that." + +<p>"I should drown myself," said Lotta Luxa. And then they both were gone. + +<p>The idea that the Jew might jilt her disturbed Nina more than all her +aunt's anger, or than any threats as to the penalties she might have +to encounter in the next world. She felt a certain delight, an inward +satisfaction, in giving up everything for her Jew lover — a satisfaction +which was the more intense, the more absolute was the rejection and the +more crushing the scorn which she encountered on his behalf from her +own people. But to encounter this rejection and scorn, and then to be +thrown over by the Jew, was more than she could endure. And would it, +could it, be so? She sat down to think of it; and as she thought of it +terrible fears came upon her. Old Trendellsohn had told her that such a +marriage on his son's part would bring him into great trouble; and old +Trendellsohn was not harsh with her as her aunt was harsh. The old +man, in his own communications with her, had always been kind and +forbearing. And then Anton himself was severe to her. Though he would +now and again say some dear, well-to-be-remembered happy word, as when +he told her that she was his sun, and that he looked to her for warmth +and light, such soft speakings were few with him and far between. +And then he never mentioned any time as the probable date of their +marriage. If only a time could be fixed, let it be ever so distant, +Nina thought that she could still endure all the cutting taunts of her +enemies. But what would she do if Anton were to announce to her some +day that he found himself, as a Jew, unable to marry with her as a +Christian? In such a case she thought that she must drown herself, as +Lotta had suggested to her. + +<p>As she sat thinking of this, her eyes suddenly fell upon the one key +which she herself possessed, and which, with a woman's acuteness of +memory, she perceived to have been moved from the spot on which she had +left it. It was the key of the little desk which stood in the corner of +the parlour, and in which, on the top of all the papers, was deposited +the necklace with which she intended to relieve the immediate +necessities of their household. She at once remembered that Lotta +had been left for a long time in the room, and with anxious, quick +suspicion she went to the desk. But her suspicions had wronged Lotta. +There, lying on a bundle of letters, was the necklace, in the exact +position in which she had left it. She kissed the trinket, which had +come to her from her mother, replaced it carefully, and put the key +into her pocket. + +<p>What should she do next? How should she conduct herself in her present +circumstances? Her heart prompted her to go off at once to Anton +Trendellsohn and tell him everything; but she greatly feared that Anton +would not be glad to see her. She knew that it was not well that a girl +should run after her lover; but yet how was she to live without seeing +him? What other comfort had she? and from whom else could she look for +guidance? She declared to herself at last that she, in her position, +would not be stayed by ordinary feelings of maiden reserve. She would +tell him everything, even to the threat on which her aunt had so much +depended, and would then ask him for his counsel. She would describe +to him, if words from her could describe them, all her difficulties, +and would promise to be guided by him absolutely in everything. +"Everything," she would say to him, "I have given up for you. I am +yours entirely, body and soul. Do with me as you will." If he should +then tell her that he would not have her, that he did not want the +sacrifice, she would go away from him — and drown herself. But she would +not go to him to-day — no, not to-day; not perhaps to-morrow. It was +but a day or two as yet since she had been over at the Trendellsohns' +house, and though on that occasion she had not seen Anton, Anton of +course would know that she had been there. She did not wish him to +think that she was hunting him. She would wait yet two or three days — +till the next Sunday morning perhaps — and then she would go again to +the Jews' quarter. On the Christian Sabbath Anton was always at home, +as on that day business is suspended in Prague both for Christian and +Jew. + +<p>Then she went back to her father. He was still lying with his face +turned to the wall, and Nina, thinking that he slept, took up her work +and sat by his side. But he was awake, and watching. "Is she gone?" he +said, before her needle had been plied a dozen times. + +<p>"Aunt Sophie? Yes, father, she has gone." + +<p>"I hope she will not come again." + +<p>"She says that she will never come again." + +<p>"What is the use of her coming here? We are lost and are perishing. We +are utterly gone. She will not help us, and why should she disturb us +with her curses?" + +<p>"Father, there may be better days for us yet." + +<p>"How can there be better days when you are bringing down the Jew upon +us? Better days for yourself, perhaps, if mere eating and drinking will +serve you." + +<p>"Oh, father!" + +<p>"Have you not ruined everything with your Jew lover? Did you not hear +how I was treated? What could I say to your aunt when she stood there +and reviled us?" + +<p>"Father, I was so grateful to you for saying nothing!" + +<p>"But I knew that she was right. A Christian should not marry a Jew. She +said it was abominable; and so it is." + +<p>"Father, father, do not speak like that! I thought that you had +forgiven me. You said to aunt Sophie that I was a good daughter. Will +you not say the same to me — to me myself?" + +<p>"It is not good to love a Jew." + +<p>"I do love him, father. How can I help it now? I cannot change my +heart." + +<p>"I suppose I shall be dead soon," said old Balatka, "and then it will +not matter. You will become one of them, and I shall be forgotten." + +<p>"Father, have I ever forgotten you?" said Nina, throwing herself upon +him on his bed. "Have I not always loved you? Have I not been good to +you? Oh, father, we have been true to each other through it all. Do not +speak to me like that at last." +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3> +</center> + +<p>Anton Trendellsohn had learned from his father that Nina had spoken to +her aunt about the title-deeds of the houses in the Kleinseite, and +that thus, in a roundabout way, a demand had been made for them. "Of +course, they will not give them up," he had said to his father. "Why +should they, unless the law makes them? They have no idea of honour or +honesty to one of us." The elder Jew had then expressed his opinion +that Josef Balatka should be required to make the demand as a matter of +business, to enforce a legal right; but to this Anton had replied that +the old man in the Kleinseite was not in a condition to act efficiently +in the matter himself. It was to him that the money had been advanced, +but to the Zamenoys that it had in truth been paid; and Anton declared +his purpose of going to Karil Zamenoy and himself making his demand. +And then there had been a discussion, almost amounting to a quarrel, +between the two Trendellsohns as to Nina Balatka. Poor Nina need not +have added another to her many causes of suffering by doubting her +lover's truth. Anton Trendellsohn, though not given to speak of his +love with that demonstrative vehemence to which Nina had trusted in her +attempts to make her friends understand that she could not be talked +out of her engagement, was nevertheless sufficiently firm in his +purpose. He was a man very constant in all his purposes, whom none +who knew him would have supposed likely to jeopardise his worldly +interests for the love of a Christian girl, but who was very little +apt to abandon aught to which he had set his hand because the voices +of those around him might be against him. He had thought much of his +position as a Jew before he had spoken of love to the penniless +Christian maiden who frequented his father's house, pleading for her +father in his poverty; but the words when spoken meant much, and Nina +need not have feared that he would forget them. He was a man not much +given to dalliance, not requiring from day to day the soft sweetness of +a woman's presence to keep his love warm; but his love could maintain +its own heat, without any softness or dalliance. Had it not been so, +such a girl as Nina would hardly have surrendered to him her whole +heart as she had done. + +<p>"You will fall into trouble about the maiden," the elder Trendellsohn +had said. + +<p>"True, father; there will be trouble enough. In what that we do is +there not trouble?" + +<p>"A man in the business of his life must encounter labour and grief and +disappointment. He should take to him a wife to give him ease in these +things, not one who will be an increase to his sorrows." + +<p>"That which is done is done." + +<p>"My son, this thing is not done." + +<p>"She has my plighted word, father. Is not that enough?" + +<p>"Nina is a good girl. I will say for her that she is very good. I have +wished that you might have brought to my house as your wife the child +of my old friend Baltazar Loth; but if that may not be, I would have +taken Nina willingly by the hand — had she been one of us." + +<p>"It may be that God will open her eyes." + +<p>"Anton, I would not have her eyes opened by anything so weak as her +love for a man. But I have said that she was good. She will hear +reason; and when she shall know that her marriage among us would bring +trouble on us, she will restrain her wishes. Speak to her, Anton, and +see if it be not so." + +<p>"Not for all the wealth which all our people own in Bohemia! Father, to +do so would be to demand, not to ask. If she love me, could she refuse +such a request were I to ask it?" + +<p>"I will speak a word to Nina, my son, and the request shall come from +her." + +<p>"And if it does, I will never yield to it. For her sake I would not +yield, for I know she loves me. Neither for my own would I yield; for +as truly as I worship God, I love her better than all the world beside. +She is to me my cup of water when I am hot and athirst, my morsel of +bread when I am faint with hunger. Her voice is the only music which I +love. The touch of her hand is so fresh that it cools me when I am in +fever. The kiss of her lips is so sweet and balmy that it cures when +I shake with an ague fit. To think of her when I am out among men +fighting for my own, is such a joy, that now, methinks now, that I have +had it belonging to me, I could no longer fight were I to lose it. No. +father; she shall not be taken from me. I love her, and I will keep +her." + +<p>Oh that Nina could have heard him! How would all her sorrows have fled +from her, and left her happy in her poverty! But Anton Trendellsohn, +though he could speak after this manner to his father, could hardly +bring himself to talk of his feelings to the woman who would have given +her eyes, could she for his sake have spared them, to hear him. Now and +again, indeed, he would say a word, and then would frown and become +gloomy, as though angry with himself for such outward womanly +expression of what he felt. As it was, the words fell upon ears which +they delighted not. "Then, my son, you will live to rue the day in +which you first saw her," said the elder Jew. "She will be a bone of +contention in your way that will separate you from all your friends. +You will become neither Jew nor Christian, and will be odious alike to +both. And she will be the same." + +<p>"Then, father, we will bear our sorrows together." + +<p>"Yes; and what happens when sorrows come from such causes? The man +learns to hate the woman who has caused them, and ill-uses her, and +feels himself to be a Cain upon the earth, condemned by all, but by +none so much as by himself. Do you think that you have strength to bear +the contempt of all those around you?" + +<p>Anton waited a moment or two before he answered, and then spoke very +slowly. "If it be necessary to bear so much, I will at least make the +effort. It may be that I shall find the strength." + +<p>"Nothing then that your father says to you avails aught?" + +<p>"Nothing, father, on that matter. You should have spoken sooner." + +<p>"Then you must go your own way. As for me, I must look for another son +to bear the burden of my years." And so they parted. + +<p>Anton Trendellsohn understood well the meaning of the old man's threat. +He was quite alive to the fact that his father had expressed his +intention to give his wealth and his standing in trade and the business +of his house to some younger Jew, who would be more true than his own +son to the traditional customs of their tribes. There was Ruth Jacobi, +his granddaughter — the only child of the house — who had already reached +an age at which she might be betrothed; and there was Samuel Loth, +the son of Baltazar Loth, old Trendellsohn's oldest friend. Anton +Trendellsohn did not doubt who might be the adopted child to be taken +to fill his place. It has been already explained that there was no +partnership actually existing between the two Trendellsohns. By degrees +the son had slipt into the father's place, and the business by which +the house had grown rich had for the last five or six years been +managed chiefly by him. But the actual results of the son's industry +and the son's thrift were still in the possession of the father. The +old man might no doubt go far towards ruining his son if he were so +minded. + +<p>Dreams of a high ambition had, from very early years, flitted across +the mind of the younger Trendellsohn till they had nearly formed +themselves into a settled purpose. He had heard of Jews in Vienna, in +Paris, and in London, who were as true to their religion as any Jew of +Prague, but who did not live immured in a Jews' quarter, like lepers +separate and alone in some loathed corner of a city otherwise clean. +These men went abroad into the world as men, using the wealth with +which their industry had been blessed, openly as the Christians used +it. And they lived among Christians as one man should live with his +fellow-men — on equal terms, giving and taking, honouring and honoured. +As yet it was not so with the Jews of Prague, who were still bound to +their old narrow streets, to their dark houses, to their mean modes +of living, and who, worst of all, were still subject to the isolated +ignominy of Judaism. In Prague a Jew was still a Pariah. Anton's father +was rich — very rich. Anton hardly knew what was the extent of his +father's wealth, but he did know that it was great. In his father's +time, however, no change could be made. He did not scruple to speak to +the old man of these things; but he spoke of them rather as dreams, or +as distant hopes, than as being the basis of any purpose of his own. +His father would merely say that the old house, looking out upon the +ancient synagogue, must last him his time, and that the changes of +which Anton spoke must be postponed — not till he died — but till such +time as he should feel it right to give up the things of this world. +Anton Trendellsohn, who knew his father well, had resolved that he +would wait patiently for everything till his father should have gone to +his last home, knowing that nothing but death would close the old man's +interest in the work of his life. But he had been content to wait — to +wait, to think, to dream, and only in part to hope. He still communed +with himself daily as to that House of Trendellsohn which might, +perhaps, be heard of in cities greater than Prague, and which might +rival in the grandeur of its wealth those mighty commercial names which +had drowned the old shame of the Jew in the new glory of their great +doings. To be a Jew in London, they had told him, was almost better +than to be a Christian, provided that he was rich, and knew the ways +of trade — was better for such purposes as were his purposes. Anton +Trendellsohn believed that he would be rich, and was sure that he knew +the ways of trade; and therefore he nursed his ambition, and meditated +what his action should be when the days of his freedom should come to +him. + +<p>Then Nina Balatka had come across his path. To be a Jew, always a Jew, +in all things a Jew, had been ever a part of his great dream. It was as +impossible to him as it would be to his father to forswear the religion +of his people. To go forth and be great in commerce by deserting his +creed would have been nothing to him. His ambition did not desire +wealth so much as the possession of wealth in Jewish hands, without +those restrictions upon its enjoyment to which Jews under his own eye +had ever been subjected. It would have delighted him to think that, by +means of his work, there should no longer be a Jews' quarter in Prague, +but that all Prague should be ennobled and civilised and made beautiful +by the wealth of Jews. Wealth must be his means, and therefore he was +greedy; but wealth was not his last or only aim, and therefore his +greed did not utterly destroy his heart. Then Nina Balatka had come +across his path, and he was compelled to shape his dreams anew. How +could a Jew among Jews hold up his head as such who had taken to his +bosom a Christian wife? + +<p>But again he shaped his dreams aright — so far aright that he could +still build the castles of his imagination to his own liking. Nina +should be his wife. It might be that she would follow the creed of her +husband, and then all would be well. In those far cities to which he +would go, it would hardly in such case be known that she had been born +a Christian; or else he would show the world around him, both Jews and +Christians, how well a Christian and a Jew might live together. To +crush the prejudice which had dealt so hardly with his people — to make +a Jew equal in all things to a Christian — this was his desire; and how +could this better be fulfilled than by his union with a Christian? One +thing at least was fixed with him — one thing was fixed, even though it +should mar his dreams. He had taken the Christian girl to be part of +himself, and nothing should separate them. His father had spoken often +to him of the danger which he would incur by marrying a Christian, but +had never before uttered any word approaching to a personal threat. +Anton had felt himself to be so completely the mainspring of the +business in which they were both engaged — was so perfectly aware that +he was so regarded by all the commercial men of Prague — that he had +hardly regarded the absence of any positive possession in his father's +wealth as detrimental to him. He had been willing that it should be his +father's while his father lived, knowing that any division would be +detrimental to them both. He had never even asked his father for a +partnership, taking everything for granted. Even now he could not quite +believe that his father was in earnest. It could hardly be possible +that the work of his own hands should be taken from him because he had +chosen a bride for himself! But this he felt, that should his father +persevere in the intention which he had expressed, he would be upheld +in it by every Jew of Prague. "Dark, ignorant, and foolish," Anton said +to himself, speaking of those among whom he lived; "it is their pride +to live in disgrace, while all the honours of the world are open to +them if they chose to take them!" + +<p>He did not for a moment think of altering his course of action in +consequence of what his father had said to him. Indeed, as regarded the +business of the house, it would stand still altogether were he to alter +it. No successor could take up the work when he should leave it. No +other hand could continue the webs which were of his weaving. So he +went forth, as the errands of the day called him, soon after his +father's last words were spoken, and went through his work as though +his own interest in it were in no danger. + +<p>On that evening nothing was said on the subject between him and his +father, and on the next morning he started immediately after breakfast +for the Ross Markt, in order that he might see Karil Zamenoy, as he had +said that he would do. The papers, should he get them, would belong to +his father, and would at once be put into his father's hands. But the +feeling that it might not be for his own personal advantage to place +them there did not deter him. His father was an old man, and old men +were given to threaten. He at least would go on with his duty. + +<p>It was about eleven o'clock in the day when he entered the open door of +the office in the Ross Markt, and found Ziska and a young clerk sitting +opposite to each other at their desks. Anton took off his hat and bowed +to Ziska, whom he knew slightly, and asked the young man if his father +were within. + +<p>"My father is here," said Ziska, "but I do not know whether he can see +you." + +<p>"You will ask him, perhaps," said Trendellsohn. + +<p>"Well, he is engaged. There is a lady with him." + +<p>"Perhaps he will make an appointment with me, and I will call again. If +he will name an hour, I will come at his own time." + +<p>"Cannot you say to me, Herr Trendellsohn, that which you wish to say to +him?" + +<p>"Not very well." + +<p>"You know that I am in partnership with my father." + +<p>"He and you are happy to be so placed together. But if your father can +spare me five minutes, I will take it from him as a favour." + +<p>Then, with apparent reluctance, Ziska came down from his seat and went +into the inner room. There he remained some time, while Trendellsohn +was standing, hat in hand, in the outer office. If the changes which +he hoped to effect among his brethren could be made, a Jew in Prague +should, before long, be asked to sit down as readily as a Christian. +But he had not been asked to sit, and he therefore stood holding his +hat in his hand during the ten minutes that Ziska was away. At last +young Zamenoy returned, and, opening the door, signified to the Jew +that his father would see him at once if he would enter. Nothing more +had been said about the lady, and there, when Trendellsohn went into +the room, he found the lady, who was no other than Madame Zamenoy +herself. A little family council had been held, and it had been settled +among them that the Jew should be seen and heard. + +<p>"So, sir, you are Anton Trendellsohn," began Madame Zamenoy, as soon as +Ziska was gone — for Ziska had been told to go — and the door was shut. + +<p>"Yes, madame; I am Anton Trendellsohn. I had not expected the honour of +seeing you, but I wish to say a few words on business to your husband." + +<p>"There he is; you can speak to him." + +<p>"Anything that I can do, I shall be very happy," said Karil Zamenoy, +who had risen from his chair to prevent the necessity of having to ask +the Jew to sit down. + +<p>"Herr Zamenoy," began the Jew, "you are, I think, aware that my father +has purchased from your friend and brother-in-law, Josef Balatka, +certain houses in the Kleinseite, in one of which the old man still +lives." + +<p>"Upon my word, I know nothing about it," said Zamenoy — "nothing, that +is to say, in the way of business;" and the man of business laughed. +"Mind I do not at all deny that you did so — you or your father, or the +two together. Your people are getting into their hands lots of houses +all over the town; but how they do it nobody knows. They are not bought +in fair open market." + +<p>"This purchase was made by contract, and the price was paid in full +before the houses were put into our hands." + +<p>"They are not in your hands now, as far as I know." + +<p>"Not the one, certainly, in which Balatka lives. Motives of +friendship — " + +<p>"Friendship!" said Madame Zamenoy, with a sneer. + +<p>"And now motives of love," continued Anton, "have induced us to leave +the use of that house with Josef Balatka." + +<p>"Love!" said Madame Zamenoy, springing from her chair; love indeed! Do +not talk to me of love for a Jew." + +<p>"My dear, my dear!" said her husband, expostulating. + +<p>"How dares he come here to talk of his love? It is filthy — it is worse +than filthy — it is profane." + +<p>"I came here, madame," continued Anton, "not to talk of my love, but of +certain documents or title-deeds respecting those houses, which should +be at present in my father's custody. I am told that your husband has +them in his safe custody." + +<p>"My husband has them not," said Madame Zamenoy. + +<p>"Stop, my dear — stop," said the husband. + +<p>"Not that he would be bound to give them up to you if he had got them, +or that he would do so; but he has them not." + +<p>"In whose hands are they then?" + +<p>"That is for you to find out, not for us to tell you." + +<p>"Why should not all the world be told, so that the proper owner may +have his own?" + +<p>"It is not always so easy to find out who is the proper owner," said +Zamenoy the elder. + +<p>"You have seen this contract before, I think, said Trendellsohn, +bringing forth a written paper. + +<p>"I will not look at it now at any rate. I have nothing to do with it, +and I will have nothing to do with it. You have heard Madame Zamenoy +declare that the deed which you seek is not here. I cannot say whether +it is here or no. I do not say — as you will be pleased to remember. If +it were here it would be in safe keeping for my brother-in-law, and +only to him could it be given." + +<p>"But will you not say whether it is in your hands? You know well that +Josef Balatka is ill, and cannot attend to such matters." + +<p>"And who has made him ill, and what has made him ill?" said Madame +Zamenoy. "Ill! of course he is ill. Is it not enough to make any man +ill to be told that his daughter is to marry a Jew?" + +<p>"I have not come hither to speak of that," said Trendellsohn. + +<p>"But I speak of it; and I tell you this, Anton Trendellsohn — you shall +never marry that girl." + +<p>"Be it so; but let me at any rate have that which is my own." + +<p>"Will you give her up if it is given to you?" + +<p>"It is here then?" + +<p>"No; it is not here. But will you abandon this mad thought if I tell +you where it is?" + +<p>"No; certainly not." + +<p>"What a fool the man is!" said Madame Zamenoy. "He comes to us for what +he calls his property because he wants to marry the girl, and she is +deceiving him all the while. Go to Nina Balatka, Trendellsohn, and she +will tell you who has the document. She will tell you where it is, if +it suits her to do so." + +<p>"She has told me, and she knows that it is here." + +<p>"She knows nothing of the kind, and she has lied. She has lied in order +that she may rob you. Jew as you are, she will be too many for you. She +will rob you, with all her seeming simplicity." + +<p>"I trust her as I do my own soul," said Trendellsohn. + +<p>"Very well; I tell you that she, and she only, knows where these +papers are. For aught I know, she has them herself. I believe that she +has them. Ziska," said Madame Zamenoy, calling aloud — "Ziska, come +hither;" and Ziska entered the room. "Ziska, who has the title-deeds +of your uncle's houses in the Kleinseite?" Ziska hesitated a moment +without answering. "You know, if anybody does," said his mother; "tell +this man, since he is so anxious, who has got them." + +<p>"I do not know why I should tell him my cousin's secrets." + +<p>"Tell him, I say. It is well that he should know." + +<p>"Nina has them, as I believe," said Ziska, still hesitating. + +<p>"Nina has them!" said Trendellsohn. + +<p>"Yes; Nina Balatka," said Madame Zamenoy. "We tell you, to the best of +our knowledge at least. At any rate, they are not here." + +<p>"It is impossible that Nina should have them," said Trendellsohn. "How +should she have got them?" + +<p>"That is nothing to us," said Madame Zamenoy. "The whole thing is +nothing to us. You have heard all that we can tell you, and you had +better go." + +<p>"You have heard more than I would have told you myself," said Ziska, +"had I been left to my opinion." + +<p>Trendellsohn stood pausing for a moment, and then he turned to the +elder Zamenoy. "What do you say, sir? Is it true that these papers are +at the house in the Kleinseite?" + +<p>"I say nothing," said Karil Zamenoy. "It seems to me that too much has +been said already." + +<p>"A great deal too much," said the lady. "I do not know why I should +have allowed myself to be surprised into giving you any information at +all. You wish to do us the heaviest injury that one man can do another, +and I do not know why we should speak to you at all. Now you had better +go." + +<p>"Yes; you had better go," said Ziska, holding the door open, and +looking as though he were inclined to threaten. Trendellsohn paused +for a moment on the threshold, fixing his eyes full upon those of his +rival; but Ziska neither spoke nor made any further gesture, and then +the Jew left the house. + +<p>"I would have told him nothing," said the elder Zamenoy when they were +left alone. + +<p>"My dear, you don't understand; indeed you do not," said his wife. "No +stone should be left unturned to prevent such a horrid marriage as +this. There is nothing I would not say — nothing I would not do." + +<p>"But I do not see that you are doing anything." + +<p>"Leave this little thing to me, my dear — to me and Ziska. It is +impossible that you should do everything yourself. In such a matter as +this, believe me that a woman is best." + +<p>"But I hate anything that is really dishonest." + +<p>"There shall be no dishonesty — none in the world. You don't suppose +that I want to get the dirty old tumble-down houses. God forbid! But +you would not give up everything to a Jew! Oh, I hate them! I do hate +them! Anything is fair against a Jew." If such was Madame Zamenoy's +ordinary doctrine, it may well be understood that she would scruple at +using no weapon against a Jew who was meditating so great an injury +against her as this marriage with her niece. After this little +discussion old Zamenoy said no more, and Madame Zamenoy went home to +the Windberg-gasse. + +<p>Trendellsohn, as he walked homewards, was lost in amazement. He wholly +disbelieved the statement that the document he desired was in Nina's +hands, but he thought it possible that it might be in the house in +the Kleinseite. It was, after all, on the cards that old Balatka was +deceiving him. The Jew was by nature suspicious, though he was also +generous. He could be noble in his confidence, and at the same time +could become at a moment distrustful. He could give without grudging, +and yet grudge the benefits which came of his giving. Neither he nor +his father had ever positively known in whose custody were the +title-deeds which he was so anxious to get into his own hands. Balatka +had said that they must be with the Zamenoys, but even Balatka had never +spoken as of absolute knowledge. Nina, indeed, had declared positively +that they were in the Ross Markt, saying that Ziska had so stated in +direct terms; but there might be a mistake in this. At any rate he +would interrogate Nina, and if there were need, would not spare the old +man any questions that could lead to the truth. Trendellsohn, as he +thought of the possibility of such treachery on Balatka's part, felt +that, without compunction, he could be very cruel, even to an old man, +under such circumstances as those. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER VII</h3> +</center> + +<p>Madame Zamenoy and her son no doubt understood each other's purposes, +and there was another person in the house who understood them — Lotta +Luxa, namely; but Karil Zamenoy had been kept somewhat in the dark. +Touching that piece of parchment as to which so much anxiety had been +expressed, he only knew that he had, at his wife's instigation, given +it into her hand in order that she might use it in some way for putting +an end to the foul betrothal between Nina and the Jew. The elder +Zamenoy no doubt understood that Anton Trendellsohn was to be bought +off by the document; and he was not unwilling to buy him off so +cheaply, knowing as he did that the houses were in truth the Jew's +property; but Madame Zamenoy's scheme was deeper than this. She did +not believe that the Jew was to be bought off at so cheap a price; but +she did believe that it might be possible to create such a feeling in +his mind as would make him abandon Nina out of the workings of his own +heart. Ziska and his mother were equally anxious to save Nina from the +Jew, but not exactly with the same motives. He had received a promise, +both from his father and mother, before anything was known of the Jew's +love, that Nina should be received as a daughter-in-law, if she would +accept his suit; and this promise was still in force. That the girl +whom he loved should love a Jew distressed and disgusted Ziska; but it +did not deter him from his old purpose. It was shocking, very shocking, +that Nina should so disgrace herself; but she was not on that account +less pretty or less charming in her cousin's eyes. Madame Zamenoy, +could she have had her own will, would have rescued Nina from the Jew — +firstly, because Nina was known all over Prague to be her niece — and, +secondly, for the good of Christianity generally; but the girl herself, +when rescued, she would willingly have left to starve in the poverty of +the old house in the Kleinseite, as a punishment for her sin in having +listened to a Jew. + +<p>"I would have nothing more to say to her," said the mother to her son. + +<p>"Nor I either," said Lotta, who was present. "She has demeaned herself +far too much to be a fit wife for Ziska." + +<p>"Hold your tongue, Lotta; what business have you to speak about such a +matter?" said the young man. + +<p>"All the same, Ziska, if I were you, I would give her up," said the +mother. + +<p>"If you were me, mother, you would not give her up. If every man is to +give up the girl he likes because somebody else interferes with him, +how is anybody to get married at all? It's the way with them all." + +<p>"But a Jew, Ziska!" + +<p>"So much the more reason for taking her away from him." Then Ziska went +forth on a certain errand, the expediency of which he had discussed +with his mother. + +<p>"I never thought he'd be so firm about it, ma'am," said Lotta to her +mistress. + +<p>"If we could get Trendellsohn to turn her off, he would not think much +of her afterwards," said the mother. "He wouldn't care to take the +Jew's leavings." + +<p>"But he seems to be so obstinate," said Lotta. "Indeed I did not think +there was so much obstinacy in him." + +<p>"Of course he is obstinate while he thinks the other man is to have +her," said the mistress; "but all that will be changed when the girl is +alone in the world." + +<p>It was a Saturday morning, and Ziska had gone out with a certain fixed +object. Much had been said between him and his mother since Anton +Trendellsohn's visit to the office, and it had been decided that he +should now go and see the Jew in his own home. He should see him and +speak him fair, and make him understand if possible that the whole +question of the property should be settled as he wished it — if he would +only give up his insane purpose of marrying a Christian girl. Ziska +would endeavour also to fill the Jew's mind with suspicion against +Nina. The former scheme was Ziska's own; the second was that in which +Ziska's mother put her chief trust. "If once he can be made to think +that the girl is deceiving him, he will quarrel with her utterly," +Madame Zamenoy had said. + +<p>On Saturday there is but little business done in Prague, because +Saturday is the Sabbath of the Jews. The shops are of course open in +the main streets of the town, but banks and counting-houses are closed, +because the Jews will not do business on that day — so great is the +preponderance of the wealth of Prague in the hands of that people! It +suited Ziska, therefore, to make his visit on a Saturday, both because +he had but little himself to do on that day, and because he would be +almost sure to find Trendellsohn at home. As he made his way across the +bottom of the Kalowrat-strasse and through the centre of the city to +the narrow ways of the Jews' quarter, his heart somewhat misgave him as +to the result of his visit. He knew very well that a Christian was safe +among the Jews from any personal ill-usage; but he knew also that such +a one as he would be known personally to many of them as a Christian +rival, and probably as a Christian enemy in the same city, and he +thought that they would look at him askance. Living in Prague all his +life, he had hardly been above once or twice in the narrow streets +which he was now threading. Strangers who come to Prague visit the +Jews' quarter as a matter of course, and to such strangers the Jews of +Prague are invariably courteous. But the Christians of the city seldom +walk through the heart of the Jews' locality, or hang about the Jews' +synagogue, or are seen among their houses unless they have special +business. The Jews' quarter, though it is a banishment to the Jews from +the fairer portions of the city, is also a separate and somewhat sacred +castle in which they may live after their old fashion undisturbed. As +Ziska went on, he became aware that the throng of people was unusually +great, and that the day was in some sort more peculiar than the +ordinary Jewish Sabbath. That the young men and girls should be dressed +in their best clothes was, as a matter of course, incidental to the +day; but he could perceive that there was an outward appearance of gala +festivity about them which could not take place every week. The tall +bright-eyed black-haired girls stood talking in the streets, with +something of boldness in their gait and bearing, dressed many of them +in white muslin, with bright ribbons and full petticoats, and that +small bewitching Hungarian hat which they delight to wear. They stood +talking somewhat loudly to each other, or sat at the open windows; +while the young men in black frock-coats and black hats, with crimson +cravats, clustered by themselves, wishing, but not daring so early in +the day, to devote themselves to the girls, who appeared, or attempted +to appear, unaware of their presence. Who can say why it is that those +encounters, which are so ardently desired by both sides, are so rarely +able to get themselves commenced till the enemies have been long in +sight of each other? But so it is among Jews and Christians, among rich +and poor, out under the open sky, and even in the atmosphere of the +ball-room, consecrated though it be to such purposes. Go into any +public dancing-room of Vienna, where the girls from the shops and the +young men from their desks congregate to waltz and make love, and you +shall observe that from ten to twelve they will dance as vigorously as +at a later hour, but that they will hardly talk to each other till the +mellowness of the small morning hours has come upon them. + +<p>Among these groups in the Jewish quarter Ziska made his way, conscious +that the girls eyed him and whispered to each other something as to +his presence, and conscious also that the young men eyed him also, +though they did so without speaking of him as he passed. He knew that +Trendellsohn lived close to the synagogue, and to the synagogue he made +his way. And as he approached the narrow door of the Jews' church, he +saw that a crowd of men stood round it, some in high caps and some in +black hats, but all habited in short muslin shirts, which they wore +over their coats. Such dresses he had seen before, and he knew that +these men were taking part from time to time in some service within +the synagogue. He did not dare to ask of one of them which was +Trendellsohn's house, but went on till he met an old man alone just at +the back of the building, dressed also in a high cap and shirt, which +shirt, however, was longer than those he had seen before. Plucking up +his courage, he asked of the old man which was the house of Anton +Trendellsohn. + +<p>"Anton Trendellsohn has no house," said the old man; "but that is his +father's house, and there Anton Trendellsohn lives. I am Stephen +Trendellsohn, and Anton is my son." + +<p>Ziska thanked him, and, crossing the street to the house, found that +the door was open, and that two girls were standing just within the +passage. The old man had gone, and Ziska, turning, had perceived that +he was out of sight before he reached the house. + +<p>"I cannot come till my uncle returns," said the younger girl. + +<p>"But, Ruth, he will be in the synagogue all day," said the elder, who +was that Rebecca Loth of whom the old Jew had spoken to his son. + +<p>"Then all day I must remain," said Ruth; "but it may be he will be in +by one." Then Ziska addressed them, and asked if Anton Trendellsohn did +not live there. + +<p>"Yes; he lives there," said Ruth, almost trembling, as she answered the +handsome stranger. + +<p>"And is he at home?" + +<p>"He is in the synagogue," said Ruth. "You will find him there if you +will go in." + +<p>"But they are at worship there," said Ziska, doubtingly. + +<p>"They will be at worship all day, because it is our festival," said +Rebecca, with her eyes fixed upon the ground; "but if you are a +Christian they will not object to your going in. They like that +Christians should see them. They are not ashamed." + +<p>Ziska, looking into the girl's face, saw that she was very beautiful; +and he saw also at once that she was exactly the opposite of Nina, +though they were both of a height. Nina was fair, with grey eyes, and +smooth brown hair which seemed to demand no special admiration, though +it did in truth add greatly to the sweet delicacy of her face; and she +was soft in her gait, and appeared to be yielding and flexible in all +the motions of her body. You would think that if you were permitted to +embrace her, the outlines of her body would form themselves to yours, +as though she would in all things fit herself to him who might be +blessed by her love. But Rebecca Loth was dark, with large dark-blue +eyes and jet black tresses, which spoke out loud to the beholder of +their own loveliness. You could not fail to think of her hair and of +her eyes, as though they were things almost separate from herself. And +she stood like a queen, who knew herself to be all a queen, strong on +her limbs, wanting no support, somewhat hard withal, with a repellant +beauty that seemed to disdain while it courted admiration, and utterly +rejected the idea of that caressing assistance which men always love +to give, and which women often love to receive. At the present moment +she was dressed in a frock of white muslin, looped round the skirt, +and bright with ruby ribbons. She had on her feet coloured boots, +which fitted them to a marvel, and on her glossy hair a small new hat, +ornamented with the plumage of some strange bird. On her shoulders she +wore a coloured jacket, open down the front, sparkling with jewelled +buttons, over which there hung a chain with a locket. In her ears she +carried long heavy earrings of gold. Were it not that Ziska had seen +others as gay in their apparel on his way, he would have fancied that +she was tricked out for the playing of some special part, and that she +should hardly have shown herself in the streets with her gala finery. +Such was Rebecca Loth the Jewess, and Ziska almost admitted to himself +that she was more beautiful than Nina Balatka. + +<p>"And are you also of the family?" Ziska asked. + +<p>"No; she is not of the family," said Ruth. "She is my particular +friend, Rebecca Loth. She does not live here. She lives with her +brother and her mother." + +<p>"Ruth, how foolish you are! What does it signify to the gentleman?" + +<p>"But he asked, and so I supposed he wanted to know." + +<p>"I have to apologise for intruding on you with any questions young +ladies," said Ziska; "especially on a day which seems to be solemn." + +<p>"That does not matter at all," said Rebecca. "Here is my brother, +and he will take you into the synagogue if you wish to see Anton +Trendellsohn." Samuel Loth, her brother, then came up and readily +offered to take Ziska into the midst of the worshippers. Ziska would +have escaped now from the project could he have done so without remark; +but he was ashamed to seem afraid to enter the building, as the +girls seemed to make so light of his doing so. He therefore followed +Rebecca's brother, and in a minute or two was inside the narrow door. + +<p>The door was very low and narrow, and seemed to be choked up by men +with short white surplices, but nevertheless he found himself inside, +jammed among a crowd of Jews; and a sound of many voices, going +together in a sing-song wail or dirge, met his ears. His first impulse +was to take off his hat, but that was immediately replaced upon his +head, he knew not by whom; and then he observed that all within the +building were covered. His guide did not follow him, but whispered to +some one what it was that the stranger required. He could see that +those inside the building were all clothed in muslin shirts of +different lengths, and that it was filled with men, all of whom had +before them some sort of desk, from which they were reading, or rather +wailing out their litany. Though this was the chief synagogue in +Prague, and, as being the so-called oldest in Europe, is a building +of some consequence in the Jewish world, it was very small. There was +no ceiling, and the high-pitched roof, which had once probably been +coloured, and the walls, which had once certainly been white, were +black with the dirt of ages. In the centre there was a cage, as it +were, or iron grille, within which five or six old Jews were placed, +who seemed to wail louder than the others. Round the walls there was +a row of men inside stationary desks, and outside them another row, +before each of whom there was a small movable standing desk, on which +there was a portion of the law of Moses. There seemed to be no possible +way by which Ziska could advance, and he would have been glad to +retreat had retreat been possible. But first one Jew and then another +moved their desks for him, so that he was forced to advance, and some +among them pointed to the spot where Anton Trendellsohn was standing. +But as they pointed, and as they moved their desks to make a pathway, +they still sang and wailed continuously, never ceasing for an instant +in their long, loud, melancholy song of prayer. At the further end +there seemed to be some altar, in front of which the High Priest wailed +louder than all, louder even than the old men within the cage; and even +he, the High Priest, was forced to move his desk to make way for Ziska. +But, apparently without displeasure, he moved it with his left hand, +while he swayed his right hand backwards and forwards as though +regulating the melody of the wail. Beyond the High Priest Ziska saw +Anton Trendellsohn, and close to the son he saw the old man whom he +had met in the street, and whom he recognised as Anton's father. Old +Trendellsohn seemed to take no notice of him, but Anton had watched him +from his entrance, and was prepared to speak to him, though he did not +discontinue his part in the dirge till the last moment. + +<p>"I had a few words to say to you, if it would suit you," said Ziska, in +a low voice. + +<p>"Are they of import?" Trendellsohn asked. "If so, I will come to you." + +<p>Ziska then turned to make his way back, but he saw that this was not +to be his road for retreat. Behind him the movable phalanx had again +formed itself into close rank, but before him the wailing wearers of +the white shirts were preparing for the commotion of his passage by +grasping the upright stick of their movable desks in their hands. So he +passed on, making the entire round of the synagogue; and when he got +outside the crowded door, he found that the younger Trendellsohn had +followed him. "We had better go into the house," said Anton; "it will +not be well for us to talk here on any matter of business. Will you +follow me?" + +<p>Then he led the way into the old house, and there at the front door +still stood the two girls talking to each other. + +<p>"You have come back, uncle," said Ruth. + +<p>"Yes; for a few moments, to speak to this gentleman." + +<p>"And will you return to the synagogue?" + +<p>"Of course I shall return to the synagogue." + +<p>"Because Rebecca wishes me to go out with her," said the younger girl, +in a plaintive voice. + +<p>"You cannot go out now. Your grandfather will want you when he +returns." + +<p>"But, uncle Anton, he will not come till sunset." + +<p>"My mother wished to have Ruth with her this afternoon if it were +possible," said Rebecca, hardly looking at Anton as she spoke to him; +"but of course if you will not give her leave I must return without +her." + +<p>"Do you not know, Rebecca," said Anton, "that she is needful to her +grandfather?" + +<p>"She could be back before sunset." + +<p>"I will trust to you, then, that she is brought back." Ruth, as soon +as she heard the words, scampered up-stairs to array herself in such +finery as she possessed, while Rebecca still stood at the door. + +<p>"Will you not come in, Rebecca, while you wait for her?" said Anton. + +<p>"Thank you, I will stand here. I am very well here." + +<p>"But the child will be ever so long making herself ready. Surely you +will come in." + +<p>But Rebecca was obstinate, and kept her place at the door. "He has that +Christian girl there with him day after day," she said to Ruth as they +went away together. "I will never enter the house while she is allowed +to come there." + +<p>"But Nina is very good," said Ruth. + +<p>"I do not care for her goodness." + +<p>"Do you not know that she is to be uncle Anton's wife?" + +<p>"They have told me so, but she shall be no friend of mine, Ruth. Is it +not shameful that he should wish to marry a Christian?" + +<p>When the two men had reached the sitting-room in the Jew's house, and +Ziska had seated himself, Anton Trendellsohn closed the door, and +asked, not quite in anger, but with something of sternness in his +voice, why he had been disturbed while engaged in an act of worship. + +<p>"They told me that you would not mind my going in to you," said Ziska, +deprecating his wrath. + +<p>"That depends on your business. What is it that you have to say to me?" + +<p>"It is this. When you came to us the other day in the Ross Markt, we +were hardly prepared for you. We did not expect you." + +<p>"Your mother could hardly have received me better had she expected me +for a twelvemonth." + +<p>"You cannot be surprised that my mother should be vexed. Besides, you +would not be angry with a lady for what she might say." + +<p>"I care but little what she says. But words, my friend, are things, +and are often things of great moment. All that, however, matters very +little. Why have you done us the honour of coming to our house?" + +<p>Even Ziska could perceive, though his powers of perception in such +matters were perhaps not very great, that the Jew in the Jews' quarter, +and the Jew in the Ross Markt, were very different persons. Ziska was +now sitting while Anton Trendellsohn was standing over him. Ziska, when +he remembered that Anton had not been seated in his father's office — +had not been asked to sit down — would have risen himself, and have +stood during the interview, but he did not know how to leave his seat. +And when the Jew called him his friend, he felt that the Jew was +getting the better of him — was already obtaining the ascendant. "Of +course we wish to prevent this marriage," said Ziska, dashing at once +at his subject. + +<p>"You cannot prevent it. The law allows it. If that is what you have to +come to do, you may as well return." + +<p>"But listen to me, my friend," said Ziska, taking a leaf out of the +Jew's book. "Only listen to me, and then I shall go." + +<p>"Speak, then, and I will listen; but be quick." + +<p>"You want, of course, to be made right about those houses?" + +<p>"My father, to whom they belong, wishes to be made right, as you call +it." + +<p>"It is all the same thing. Now, look here. The truth is this. +Everything shall be settled for you, and the whole thing given up +regularly into your hands, if you will only give over about Nina +Balatka." + +<p>"But I will not give over about Nina Balatka. Am I to be bribed out of +my love by an offer of that which is already mine own? But that you are +in my father's house, I would be wrathful with you for making me such +an offer." + +<p>"Why should you seek a Christian wife, with such maidens among you as +her whom I saw at the door?" + +<p>"Do not mind the maiden whom you saw at the door. She is nothing to +you." + +<p>"No; she is nothing to me. Of course, the lady is nothing to me. If I +were to come here looking for her, you would be angry, and would bid me +seek for beauty among my own people. Would you not do so? Answer me +now." + +<p>"Like enough. Rebecca Loth has many friends who would take her part." + +<p>"And why should we not take Nina's part — we who are her friends?" + +<p>"Have you taken her part? Have you comforted her when she was in +sorrow? Have you wiped her tears when she wept? Have you taken from her +the stings of poverty, and striven to make the world to her a pleasant +garden? She has no mother of her own. Has yours been a mother to her? +Why is it that Nina Balatka has cared to receive the sympathy and the +love of a Jew? Ask that girl whom you saw at the door for some corner +in her heart, and she will scorn you. She, a Jewess, will scorn you, a +Christian. She would so look at you that you would not dare to repeat +your prayer. Why is it that Nina has not so scorned me? We are lodged +poorly here, while Nina's aunt has a fine house in the New Town. She +has a carriage and horses, and the world around her is gay and bright. +Why did Nina come to the Jews' quarter for sympathy, seeing that she, +too, has friends of her own persuasion? Take Nina's part, indeed! It is +too late now for you to take her part. She has chosen for herself, and +her resting-place is to be here." Trendellsohn, as he spoke, put his +hand upon his breast, within the fold of his waistcoat; but Ziska +hardly understood that his doing so had any special meaning. Ziska +supposed that the "here" of which the Jew spoke was the old house in +which they were at that moment talking to each other. + +<p>"I am sure we have meant to be kind to her," said Ziska. + +<p>"You see the effect of your kindness. I tell you this only in answer to +what you said as to the young woman whom you saw at the door. Have you +aught else to say to me? I utterly decline that small matter of traffic +which you have proposed to me." + +<p>"It was not traffic exactly." + +<p>"Very well. What else is there that I can do for you?" + +<p>"I hardly know how to go on, as you are so — so hard in all that you +say." + +<p>"You will not be able to soften me, I fear." + +<p>"About the houses — though you say that I am trafficking, I really wish +to be honest with you." + +<p>"Say what you have to say, then, and be honest." + +<p>"I have never seen but one document which conveys the ownership of +those houses." + +<p>"Let my father, then, have that one document." + +<p>"It is in Balatka's house." + +<p>"That can hardly be possible," said Trendellsohn. + +<p>"As I am a Christian gentleman," said Ziska, "I believe it to be in +that house." + +<p>"As I am a Jew, sir, fearing God," said the other, "I do not believe +it. Who in that house has the charge of it?" + +<p>Ziska hesitated before he replied. "Nina, as I think," he said at last. +"I suppose Nina has it herself." + +<p>"Then she would be a traitor to me." + +<p>"What am I to say as to that?" said Ziska, smiling. Trendellsohn came +to him and sat down close at his side, looking closely into his face. +Ziska would have moved away from the Jew, but the elbow of the sofa +did not admit of his receding; and then, while he was thinking that he +would escape by rising from his seat, Anton spoke again in a low voice + — so low that it was almost a whisper, but the words seemed to fall +direct into Ziska's ears, and to hurt him. "What are you to say? You +called yourself just now a Christian gentleman. Neither the one name +nor the other goes for aught with me. I am neither the one nor the +other. But I am a man; and I ask you, as another man, whether it be +true that Nina Balatka has that paper in her possession — in her own +possession, mind you, I say." Ziska had hesitated before, but his +hesitation now was much more palpable. "Why do you not answer me?" +continued the Jew. "You have made this accusation against her. Is +the accusation true?" + +<p>"I think she has it," said Ziska. "Indeed I feel sure of it." + +<p>"In her own hands?" + +<p>"Oh yes; in her own hands. Of course it must be in her own hands." + +<p>"Christian gentleman," said Anton, rising again from his seat, and now +standing opposite to Ziska, "I disbelieve you. I think that you are +lying to me. Despite your Christianity, and despite your gentility — you +are a liar. Now, sir, unless you have anything further to say to me, +you may go." + +<p>Ziska, when thus addressed, rose of course from his seat. By nature he +was not a coward, but he was unready, and knew not what to do or to say +on the spur of the moment. "I did not come here to be insulted," he +said. + +<p>"No; you came to insult me, with two falsehoods in your mouth, either +of which proves the other to be a lie. You offer to give me up the +deeds on certain conditions, and then tell me that they are with the +girl! If she has them, how can you surrender them? I do not know +whether so silly a story might prevail between two Christians, but we +Jews have been taught among you to be somewhat observant. Sir, it is +my belief that the document belonging to my father is in your father's +desk in the Ross Markt." + +<p>"By heaven, it is in the house in the Kleinseite." + +<p>"How could you then have surrendered it?" + +<p>"It could have been managed." + +<p>It was now the Jew's turn to pause and hesitate. In the general +conclusion to which his mind had come, he was not far wrong. He +thought that Ziska was endeavouring to deceive him in the spirit of +what he said, but that as regarded the letter, the young man was +endeavouring to adhere to some fact for the salvation of his conscience +as a Christian. If Anton Trendellsohn could but find out in what lay +the quibble, the discovery might be very serviceable to him. "It could +have been managed — could it?" he said, speaking very slowly. "Between +you and her, perhaps." + +<p>"Well, yes; between me and Nina — or between some of us," said Ziska. + +<p>"And cannot it be managed now?" + +<p>"Nina is not one of us now. How can we deal with her?" + +<p>"Then I will deal with her myself. I will manage it if it is to be +managed. And, sir, if I find that in this matter you have told me the +simple truth — not the truth, mind you, as from a gentleman, or the +truth as from a Christian, for I suspect both — but the simple truth as +from man to man, then I will express my sorrow for the harsh words I +have used to you." As he finished speaking, Trendellsohn held the door +of the room open in his hand, and Ziska, not being ready with any +answer, passed through it and descended the stairs. The Jew followed +him and also held open the house door, but did not speak again as Ziska +went out. Nor did Ziska say a word, the proper words not being ready to +his tongue. The Jew returned at once into the synagogue, having during +the interview with Ziska worn the short white surplice in which he had +been found; and Ziska returned at once to his own house in the +Windberg-gasse. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3> +</center> + +<p>Early on the following morning — the morning of the Christian Sunday — +Nina Balatka received a note, a very short note, from her lover the +Jew. "Dearest, meet me on the bridge this evening at eight. I will be +at your end on the right-hand pathway exactly at eight. Thine, ever and +always, A. T." Nina, directly she had read the words, rushed out to the +door in order that she might give assurance to the messenger that she +would do as she was bidden; but the messenger was gone, and Nina was +obliged to reconcile herself to the prospect of silent obedience. The +note, however, had made her very happy, and the prospect pleased her +well. It was on this very day that she had intended to go to her lover; +but it was in all respects much pleasanter to her that her lover should +come to her. And then, to walk with him was of all things the most +delightful, especially in the gloom of the evening, when no eyes could +see her — no eyes but his own. She could hang upon his arm, and in this +way she could talk more freely with him than in any other. And then the +note had in it more of the sweetness of a love-letter than any written +words which she had hitherto received from him. It was very short, no +doubt, but he had called her "Dearest," instead of "Dear Nina," as had +been his custom, and then he had declared that he was hers ever and +always. No words could have been sweeter. She was glad that the note +was so short, because there was nothing in it to mar her pleasure. Yes, +she would be there at eight. She was quite determined that she would +not keep him waiting. + +<p>At half-past seven she was on the bridge. There could be no reason, she +thought, why she should not walk across it to the other side and then +retrace her steps, though in doing so she was forced, by the rule of +the road upon the bridge, to pass to the Old Town by the right-hand +pathway in going, while he must come to her by the opposite side. But +she would walk very quickly and watch very closely. If she did not see +him as she crossed and recrossed, she would at any rate be on the spot +indicated at the time named. The autumn evenings had become somewhat +chilly, and she wrapped her thin cloak close round her, as she felt the +night air as she came upon the open bridge. But she was not cold. She +told herself that she could not and would not be cold. How could she be +cold when she was going to meet her lover? The night was dark, for the +moon was now gone and the wind was blowing; but there were a few stars +bright in the heaven, and when she looked down through the parapets of +the bridge, there was just light enough for her to see the black water +flowing fast beneath her. She crossed quickly to the figure of St John, +that she might look closely on those passing on the other side, and +after a few moments recrossed the road. It was the figure of the saint, +St John Nepomucene, who was thrown from this very bridge and drowned, +and who has ever since been the protector of good Christians from the +fate which he himself had suffered. Then Nina bethought herself whether +she was a good Christian, and whether St John of the Bridge would be +justified in interposing on her behalf, should she be in want of him. +She had strong doubts as to the validity of her own Christianity, now +that she loved a Jew; and feared that it was more than probable that St +John would do nothing for her, were she in such a strait as that in +which he was supposed to interfere. But why now should she think of any +such danger? Lotta Luxa had told her to drown herself when she should +find herself to have been jilted by her Jew lover; but her Jew lover +was true to her; she had his dear words at that moment in her bosom, +and in a few moments her hand would be resting on his arm. So she +passed on from the statue of St John, with her mind made up that +she did not want St John's aid. Some other saint she would want, no +doubt, and she prayed a little silent prayer to St Nicholas, that he +would allow her to marry the Jew without taking offence at her. Her +circumstances had been very hard, as the saint must know, and she had +meant to do her best. Might it not be possible, if the saint would help +her, that she might convert her husband? But as she thought of this, +she shook her head. Anton Trendellsohn was not a man to be changed in +his religion by any words which she could use. It would be much more +probable, she knew, that the conversion would be the other way. And she +thought she would not mind that, if only it could be a real conversion. +But if she were induced to say that she was a Jewess, while she still +believed in St Nicholas and St John, and in the beautiful face of the +dear Virgin — if to please her husband she were to call herself a Jewess +while she was at heart a Christian — then her state would be very +wretched. She prayed again to St Nicholas to keep her from that state. +If she were to become a Jewess, she hoped that St Nicholas would let +her go altogether, heart and soul, into Judaism. + +<p>When she reached the end of the long bridge she looked anxiously up the +street by which she knew that he must come, endeavouring to discover +his figure by the glimmering light of an oil-lamp that hung at an angle +in the street, or by the brighter glare which came from the gas in a +shop-window by which he must pass. She stood thus looking and looking +till she thought he would never come. Then she heard the clock in the +old watch-tower of the bridge over her head strike three-quarters, and +she became aware that, instead of her lover being after his time, she +had yet to wait a quarter of an hour for the exact moment which he +had appointed. She did not in the least mind waiting. She had been +a little uneasy when she thought that he had neglected or forgotten +his own appointment. So she turned again and walked back towards the +Kleinseite, fixing her eyes, as she had so often done, on the rows of +windows which glittered along the great dark mass of the Hradschin +Palace. What were they all doing up there, those slow and faded +courtiers to an ex-Emperor, that they should want to burn so many +candles? Thinking of this she passed the tablet on the bridge, and, +according to her custom, put the end of her fingers on it. But as she +was raising her hand to her mouth to kiss it she remembered that the +saint might not like such service from one who was already half a Jew +at heart, and she refrained. She refrained, and then considered whether +the bridge might not topple down with her into the stream because of +her iniquity. But it did not topple down, and now she was standing +beyond any danger from the water at the exact spot which Trendellsohn +had named. She stood still lest she might possibly miss him by moving, +till she was again cold. But she did not regard that, though she +pressed her cloak closely round her limbs. She did not move till she +heard the first sound of the bell as it struck eight, and then she +gave a little jump as she found that her lover was close upon her. + +<p>"So you are here, Nina," he said, putting his hand upon her arm. + +<p>"Of course I am here, Anton. I have been looking, and looking, and +looking, thinking you never would come; and how did you get here?" + +<p>"I am as punctual as the clock, my love." + +<p>"Oh yes, you are punctual, I know; but where did you come from?" + +<p>"I came down the hill from the Hradschin. I have had business there. It +did not occur to your simplicity that I could reach you otherwise than +by the direct road from my own home." + +<p>"I never thought of your coming from the side of the Hradschin," said +Nina, wondering whether any of those lights she had seen could have +been there for the use of Anton Trendellsohn. "I am so glad you have +come to me. It is so good of you." + +<p>"It is good of you to come and meet me, my own one. But you are cold. +Let us walk, and you will be warmer." + +<p>Nina, who had already put her hand upon her lover's arm, thrust it in +a little farther, encouraged by such sweet words; and then he took her +little hand in his, and drew her still nearer to him, till she was +clinging to him very closely. "Nina, my own one," he said again. He had +never before been in so sweet a mood with her. Walk with him? Yes; she +would walk with him all night if he would let her. Instead of turning +again over the bridge as she had expected, he took her back into the +Kleinseite, not bearing round to the right in the direction of her +own house, but going up the hill into a large square, round which +the pathway is covered by the overhanging houses, as is common for +avoidance of heat in Southern cities. Here, under the low colonnade, it +was very dark, and the passengers going to and fro were not many. At +each angle of the square where the neighbouring streets entered it, +in the open space, there hung a dull, dim oil-lamp; but other light +there was none. Nina, however, did not mind the darkness while Anton +Trendellsohn was with her. Even when walking close under the buttresses +of St Nicholas — of St Nicholas, who could not but have been offended — +close under the very niche in which stood the statue of the saint — she +had no uncomfortable qualms. When Anton was with her she did not much +regard the saints. It was when she was alone that those thoughts on her +religion came to disturb her mind. "I do so like walking with you," she +said. "It is the nicest way of talking in the world." + +<p>"I want to ask you a question, Nina," said Anton; "or perhaps two +questions." The tight grasping clasp made on his arm by the tips of her +fingers relaxed itself a little as she heard his words, and remarked +their altered tone. It was not, then, to be all love; and she could +perceive that he was going to be serious with her, and, as she feared, +perhaps angry. Whenever he spoke to her on any matter of business, his +manner was so very serious as to assume in her eyes, when judged by her +feelings, an appearance of anger. The Jew immediately felt the little +movement of her fingers, and hastened to reassure her. "I am quite sure +that your answers will satisfy me." + +<p>"I hope so," said Nina. But the pressure of her hand upon his arm was +not at once repeated. + +<p>"I have seen your cousin Ziska, Nina; indeed, I have seen him twice +lately; and I have seen your uncle and your aunt." + +<p>"I suppose they did not say anything very pleasant about me." + +<p>"They did not say anything very pleasant about anybody or about +anything. They were not very anxious to be pleasant; but that I did +not mind." + +<p>"I hope they did not insult you, Anton?" + +<p>"We Jews are used as yet to insolence from Christians, and do not mind +it." + +<p>They shall never more be anything to me, if they have insulted you." + +<p>"It is nothing, Nina. We bear those things, and think that such of you +Christians as use that liberty of a vulgar tongue, which is still +possible towards a Jew in Prague, are simply poor in heart and +ignorant." + +<p>"They are poor in heart and ignorant." + +<p>"I first went to your uncle's office in the Ross Markt, where I saw him +and your aunt and Ziska. And afterwards Ziska came to me, at our own +house. He was tame enough then." + +<p>"To your own house?" + +<p>"Yes; to the Jews' quarter. Was it not a condescension? He came into +our synagogue and ferreted me out. You may be sure that he had +something very special to say when he did that. But he looked as though +he thought that his life were in danger among us." + +<p>"But, Anton, what had he to say?" + +<p>"I will tell you. He wanted to buy me off." + +<p>"Buy you off!" + +<p>"Yes; to bribe me to give you up. Aunt Sophie does not relish the idea +of having a Jew for her nephew." + +<p>"Aunt Sophie! — but I will never call her Aunt Sophie again. Do you mean +that they offered you money?" + +<p>"They offered me property, my dear, which is the same. But they did it +economically, for they only offered me my own. They were kind enough to +suggest that if I would merely break my word to you, they would tell me +how I could get the title-deeds of the houses, and thus have the power +of turning your father out into the street." + +<p>"You have the power. He would go at once if you bade him." + +<p>"I do not wish him to go. As I have told you often, he is welcome to +the use of the house. He shall have it for his life, as far as I am +concerned. But I should like to have what is my own." + +<p>"And what did you say?" Nina, as she asked the question, was very +careful not to tighten her hold upon his arm by the weight of a single +ounce. + +<p>"What did I say? I said that I had many things that I valued greatly, +but that I had one thing that I valued more than gold or houses — more +even than my right." + +<p>"And what is that?" said Nina, stopping suddenly, so that she might +hear clearly every syllable of the words which were to come. "What is +that?" She did not even yet add an ounce to the pressure; but her +fingers were ready. + +<p>"A poor thing," said Anton; "just the heart of a Christian girl." + +<p>Then the hand was tightened, or rather the two hands, for they were +closed together upon his arm; and his other arm was wound round her +waist; and then, in the gloom of the dark colonnade, he pressed her +to his bosom, and kissed her lips and her forehead, and then her lips +again. "No," he said, "they have not bribed high enough yet to get from +me my treasure — my treasure." + +<p>"Dearest, am I your treasure?" + +<p>"Are you not? What else have I that I make equal to you?" Nina was +supremely happy — triumphant in her happiness. She cared nothing for her +aunt, nothing for Lotta Luxa and her threats; and very little at the +present moment even for St Nicholas or St John of the Bridge. To be +told by her lover that she was his own treasure, was sufficient to +banish for the time all her miseries and all her fears. + +<p>"You are my treasure. I want you to remember that, and to believe it," +said the Jew. + +<p>"I will believe it," said Nina, trembling with anxious eagerness. Could +it be possible that she would ever forget it? + +<p>"And now I will ask my questions. Where are those title-deeds?" + +<p>"Where are they?" said she, repeating his question. + +<p>"Yes; where are they?" + +<p>"Why do you ask me? And why do you look like that?" + +<p>"I want you to tell me where they are, to the best of your knowledge." + +<p>"Uncle Karil has them — or else Ziska." + +<p>"You are sure of that?" + +<p>"How can I be sure? I am not sure at all. But Ziska said something +which made me feel sure of it, as I told you before. And I have +supposed always that they must be in the Ross Markt. Where else can +they be?" + +<p>"Your aunt says that you have got them." + +<p>"That I have got them?" + +<p>"Yes, you. That is what she intends me to understand." The Jew had +stopped at one of the corners, close under the little lamp, and looked +intently into Nina's face as he spoke to her. + +<p>"And you believe her?" said Nina. + +<p>But he went on without noticing her question. "She intends me +to believe that you have got them, and are keeping them from me +fraudulently! cheating me, in point of fact — that you are cheating me, +so that you may have some hold over the property for your own purposes. +That is what your aunt wishes me to believe. She is a wise woman, is +she not? and very clever. In one breath she tries to bribe me to give +you up, and in the next she wants to convince me that you are not worth +keeping." + +<p>"But, Anton — " + +<p>"Nay, Nina, I will not put you to the trouble of protestation. Look at +that star. I should as soon suspect the light which God has placed in +the heaven of misleading me, as I should suspect you." + +<p>"Oh, Anton, dear Anton, I do so love you for saying that! Would it be +possible that I should keep anything from you?" + +<p>"I think you would keep nothing from me. Were you to do so, you could +not be my own love any longer. A man's wife must be true to him in +everything, or she is not his wife. I could endure not only no fraud +from you, but neither could I endure falsehood." + +<p>"I have never been false to you. With God's help I never will be false +to you." + +<p>"He has given you His help. He has made you true-hearted, and I do not +doubt you. Now answer me another question. Is it possible that your +father should have the paper?" + +<p>Nina paused a moment, and then she replied with eagerness, "Quite +impossible. I am sure that he knows nothing of it more than you know." +When she had so spoken they walked in silence for a few yards, but +Anton did not at once reply to her. "You do not think that father is +keeping anything from you, do you," said Nina. + +<p>"I do not know," said the Jew. "I am not sure." + +<p>"You may be sure. You may be quite sure. Father is at least honest." + +<p>"I have always thought so." + +<p>"And do you not think so still?" + +<p>"Look here, Nina. I do not know that there is a Christian in Prague who +would feel it to be beneath him to rob a Jew, and I do not altogether +blame them. They believe that we would rob them, and many of us do so. +We are very sharp, each on the other, dealing against each other always +in hatred, never in love — never even in friendship." + +<p>"But, for all that, my father has never wronged you." + +<p>"He should not do so, for I am endeavouring to be kind to him. For your +sake, Nina, I would treat him as though he were a Jew himself." + +<p>"He has never wronged you; I am sure that he has never wronged you." + +<p>"Nina, you are more to me than you are to him." + +<p>"Yes. I am — I am your own; but yet I will declare that he has never +wronged you." + +<p>"And I should be more to you than he is." + +<p>"You are more — you are everything to me; but, still, I know that he has +never wronged you." + +<p>Then the Jew paused again, still walking onwards through the dark +colonnade with her hand upon his arm. They walked in silence the whole +side of the large square. Nina waiting patiently to hear what would +come next, and Trendellsohn considering what words he would use. He did +suspect her father, and it was needful to his purpose that he should +tell her so; and it was needful also, as he thought, that she should be +made to understand that in her loyalty and truth to him she must give +up her father, or even suspect her father, if his purpose required that +she should do so. Though she were still a Christian herself, she must +teach herself to look at other Christians, even at those belonging to +herself, with Jewish eyes. Unless she could do so she would not be true +and loyal to him with that troth and loyalty which he required. Poor +Nina! It was the dearest wish of her heart to be true and loyal to him +in all things; but it might be possible to put too hard a strain even +upon such love as hers. "Nina," the Jew said, "I fear your father. I +think that he is deceiving us." + +<p>"No, Anton, no! he is not deceiving you. My aunt and uncle and Ziska +are deceiving you." + +<p>"They are trying to deceive me, no doubt; but as far as I can judge +from their own words and looks, they do believe that at this moment the +document which I want is in your father's house. As far as I can judge +their thoughts from their words, they think that it is there." + +<p>"It is not there," said Nina, positively. + +<p>"That is what we must find out. Your uncle was silent. He said nothing, +or next to nothing." + +<p>"He is the best of the three, by far," said Nina. + +<p>"Your aunt is a clever woman in spite her blunder about you; and had I +dealt with her only I should have thought that she might have expressed +herself as she did, and still have had the paper in her own keeping. I +could not read her mind as I could read his. Women will lie better than +men." + +<p>"But men can lie too," said Nina. + +<p>"Your cousin Ziska is a fool." + +<p>"He is a fox," said Nina. + +<p>"He is a fool in comparison with his mother. And I had him in my own +house, under my thumb, as it were. Of course he lied. Of course he +tried to deceive me. But, Nina, he believes that the document is here — +in your house. Whether it be there or not, Ziska thinks that it is +there." + +<p>"Ziska is more fox than fool," said Nina. + +<p>"Let that be as it may. I tell you the truth of him. He thinks it is +here. Now, Nina, you must search for it." + +<p>"It is not there, Anton. I tell you of my own knowledge, it is not in +the house. Come and search yourself. Come to-morrow. Come to-night, if +you will." + +<p>"It would be of no use. I could not search as you can do. Tell me, +Nina; has your father no place locked up which is not open to you?" + +<p>"Yes; he has his old desk; you know it, where it stands in the +parlour." + +<p>"You never open that?" + +<p>"No, never; but there is nothing there — nothing of that nature." + +<p>"How can you tell? Or he can keep it about his person?" + +<p>"He keeps it nowhere. He has not got it. Dear Anton, put it out of your +head. You do not know my cousin Ziska. That he has it in his own hands +I am now sure." + +<p>"And I, Nina, am sure that it is here in the Kleinseite — or at least +am sure that he thinks it to be so. The question now is this: Will you +obey me in what directions I may give you concerning it?" Nina could +not bring herself to give an unqualified reply to this demand on the +spur of the moment. Perhaps it occurred to her that the time for such +implicit obedience on her part had hardly yet come — that as yet at +least she must not be less true to her father than to her lover. She +hesitated, therefore, in answering him. "Do you not understand me, +Nina?" he said roughly. "I asked you whether you will do as I would +have you do, and you make no reply. We two, Nina, must be one in all +things, or else we must be apart — in all things." + +<p>"I do not know what it is you wish of me," she said, trembling. + +<p>"I wish you to obey me." + +<p>"But suppose — " + +<p>"I know that you must trust me first before you can obey me." + +<p>"I do trust you. You know that I trust you." + +<p>"Then you should obey me." + +<p>"But not to suspect my own father!" + +<p>"I do not ask you to suspect him." + +<p>"But you suspect him?" + +<p>"Yes; I do. I am older than you, and know more of men and their ways +than you can do. I do suspect him. You must promise me that you will +search for this deed." + +<p>Again she paused, but after a moment or two a thought struck her, and +she replied eagerly, "Anton, I will tell you what I will do. I will ask +him openly. He and I have always been open to each other." + +<p>"If he is concealing it, do you think he will tell you?" + +<p>"Yes, he would tell me. But he is not concealing it." + +<p>"Will you look?" + +<p>"I cannot take his keys from him and open his box." + +<p>"You mean that you will not do as I bid you?" + +<p>"I cannot do it. Consider of it, Anton. Could you treat your own father +in such a way?" + +<p>"I would cling to you sooner than to him. I have told him so, and he +has threatened to turn me penniless from his house. Still I shall cling +to you, because you are my love. I shall do so if you are equally true +to me. That is my idea of love. There can be no divided allegiance." + +<p>And this also was Nina's idea of love — an idea up to which she had +striven to act and live when those around her had threatened her with +all that earth and heaven could do to her if she would not abandon the +Jew. But she had anticipated no such trial as that which had now come +upon her. "Dear Anton," she said, appealing to him weakly in her +weakness, "if you did but know how I love you!" + +<p>"You must prove your love." + +<p>"Am I not ready to prove it? Would I not give up anything, everything, +for you?" + +<p>"Then you must assist me in this thing, as I am desiring you." As he +said this they had reached the corner from whence the street ran in the +direction of the bridge, and into this he turned instead of continuing +their walk round the square. She said nothing as he did so; but +accompanied him, still leaning upon his arm. He walked on quickly and +in silence till they came to the turn which led towards Balatka's +house, and then he stopped. "It is late," said he, "and you had better +go home." + +<p>"May I not cross the bridge with you?" + +<p>"You had better go home." His voice was very stern, and as she dropped +her hand from his arm she felt it to be impossible to leave him in that +way. Were she to do so, she would never be allowed to speak to him or +to see him again. "Good-night," he said, preparing to turn from her. + +<p>"Anton, Anton, do not leave me like that." + +<p>"How then shall I leave you? Shall I say that it does not matter +whether you obey me or not? It does matter. Between you and me such +obedience matters everything. If we are to be together, I must abandon +everything for you, and you must comply in everything with me." Then +Nina, leaning close upon him, whispered into his ear that she would +obey him. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h2>VOLUME II</h2> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER IX</h3> +</center> + +<p>Nina's misery as she went home was almost complete. She had not, +indeed, quarrelled with her lover, who had again caressed her as she +left him, and assured her of his absolute confidence, but she had +undertaken a task against which her very soul revolted. It gave her +no comfort to say to herself that she had undertaken to look for that +which she knew she would not find, and that therefore her search could +do no harm. She had, in truth, consented to become a spy upon her +father, and was so to do in furtherance of the views of one who +suspected her father of fraud, and who had not scrupled to tell her +that her father was dishonest. Now again she thought of St Nicholas, as +she heard the dull chime of the clock from the saint's tower, and found +herself forced to acknowledge that she was doing very wickedly in +loving a Jew. Of course troubles would come upon her. What else could +she expect? Had she not endeavoured to throw behind her and to trample +under foot all that she had learned from her infancy under the guidance +of St Nicholas? Of course the saint would desert her. The very sound +of the chime told her that he was angry with her. How could she hope +again that St John would be good to her? Was it not to be expected +that the black-flowing river over which she understood him to preside +would become her enemy and would swallow her up — as Lotta Luxa had +predicted? Before she returned home, when she was quite sure that Anton +Trendellsohn had already passed over, she went down upon the bridge, +and far enough along the causeway to find herself over the river, and +there, crouching down, she looked at the rapid-running silent black +stream beneath her. The waters were very silent and very black, but +she could still see or feel that they were running rapidly. And they +were cold, too. She herself at the present moment was very cold. She +shuddered as she looked down, pressing her face against the stone-work, +with her two hands resting on two of the pillars of the parapet. It +would be very terrible. She did not think that she much cared for +death. The world had been so hard to her, and was growing so much +harder, that it would be a good thing to get away from it. If she could +become ill and die, with a good kind nun standing by her bedside, and +with the cross pressed to her bosom, and with her eyes fixed on the +sweet face of the Virgin Mother as it was painted in the little picture +in her room — in that way she thought that death might even be +grateful. But to be carried away she knew not whither in the cold, silent, +black-flowing Moldau! And yet she half believed the prophecy of Lotta. Such +a quiet death as that she had pictured to herself could not be given to +her! What nun would come to her bedside — to the bed of a girl who had +declared to all Prague that she intended to marry a Jew? For weeks past +she had feared even to look at the picture of the Virgin. + +<p>"I'm afraid you'll think I am very late, father," she said, as soon as +she reached home. + +<p>Her father muttered something, but not angrily, and she soon busied +herself about him, doing some little thing for his comfort, as was +her wont. But as she did so she could not but remember that she had +undertaken to be a spy upon him, to secrete his key, and to search +surreptitiously for that which he was supposed to be keeping +fraudulently. As she sat by him empty-handed — for it was Sunday night, +and as a Christian she never worked with a needle upon the Sunday — she +told herself that she could not do it. Could there be any harm done +were she to ask him now, openly, what papers he kept in that desk? But +she desired to obey her lover where obedience was possible, and he had +expressly forbidden her to ask any such question. She sat, therefore, +and said no word that could tend to ease her suffering; and then, when +the time came, she went suffering to her bed. + +<p>On the next day there seemed to come to her no opportunity for doing +that which she had to do. Souchey was in and out of the house all the +morning, explaining to her that they had almost come to the end of the +flour and of the potatoes which he had bought, that he himself had +swallowed on the previous evening the last tip of the great sausage — +for, as he had alleged, it was no use a fellow dying of starvation +outright — and that there was hardly enough of chocolate left to make +three cups. Nina had brought out her necklace and had asked Souchey to +take it to the shop and do the best with it he could; but Souchey had +declined the commission, alleging that he would be accused of having +stolen it; and Nina had then prepared to go herself, but her father had +called her, and he had come out into the sitting-room and had remained +there during the afternoon, so that both the sale of the trinket and +the search in the desk had been postponed. The latter she might have +done at night, but when the night came the deed seemed to be more +horrid than it would be even in the day. + +<p>She observed also, more accurately than she had ever done before, that +he always carried the key of his desk with him. He did not, indeed, put +it under his pillow, or conceal it in bed, but he placed it with an old +spectacle-case which he always carried, and a little worn pocket-book +which Nina knew to be empty, on a low table which stood at his bed-head; +and now during the whole of the afternoon he had the key on the +table beside him. Nina did not doubt but that she could take the key +while he was asleep; for when he was even half asleep — which was +perhaps his most customary state — he would not stir when she entered +the room. But if she took it at all, she would do so in the day. She +could not bring herself to creep into the room in the night, and to +steal the key in the dark. As she lay in bed she still thought of it. +She had promised her lover that she would do this thing. Should she +resolve not to do it, in spite of that promise, she must at any rate +tell Anton of her resolution. She must tell him, and then there would +be an end of everything. Would it be possible for her to live without +her love? + +<p>On the following morning it occurred to her that she might perhaps be +able to induce her father to speak of the houses, and of those horrid +documents of which she had heard so much, without disobeying any of +Trendellsohn's behests. There could, she thought, be no harm in her +asking her father some question as to the ownership of the houses, +and as to the Jew's right to the property. Her father had very often +declared in her presence that old Trendellsohn could turn him into the +street at any moment. There had been no secrets between her and her +father as to their poverty, and there could be no reason why her tongue +should now be silenced, so long as she refrained from any positive +disobedience to her lover's commands. That he must be obeyed she still +recognised as the strongest rule of all — obeyed, that is, till she +should go to him and lay down her love at his feet, and give back to +him the troth which he had given her. + +<p>"Father," she said to the old man about noon that day, "I suppose this +house does belong to the Trendellsohns?" + +<p>"Of course it does," said he, crossly. + +<p>"Belongs to them altogether, I mean?" she said. + +<p>"I don't know what you call altogether. It does belong to them, and +there's an end of it. What's the good of talking about it?" + +<p>"Only if so, they ought to have those deeds they are so anxious about. +Everybody ought to have what is his own. Don't you think so, father?" + +<p>"I am keeping nothing from them," said he; "you don't suppose that I +want to rob them?" + +<p>"Of course you do not." Then Nina paused again. She was drawing +perilously near to forbidden ground, if she were not standing on it +already; and yet she was very anxious that the subject should not be +dropped between her and her father. + +<p>"I'm sure you do not want to rob anyone, father. But — " + +<p>"But what? I suppose young Trendellsohn has been talking to you again +about it. I suppose he suspects me; if so, no doubt, you will suspect +me too." + +<p>"Oh, father! how can you be so cruel?" + +<p>"If he thinks the papers are here, it is his own house; let him come +and search for them." + +<p>"He will not do that, I am sure." + +<p>"What is it he wants, then? I can't go out to your uncle and make him +give them up." + +<p>"They are, then, with uncle?" + +<p>"I suppose so; but how am I to know? You see how they treat me. I +cannot go to them, and they never come to me — except when that woman +comes to scold." + +<p>"But they can't belong to uncle." + +<p>"Of course they don't." + +<p>"Then why should he keep them? What good can they do him? When I spoke +to Ziska, Ziska said they should be kept, because Trendellsohn is a +Jew; but surely a Jew has a right to his own. We at any rate ought to +do what we can for him, Jew as he is, since he lets us live in his +house." + +<p>The slight touch of irony which Nina had thrown into her voice when she +spoke of what was due to her lover even though he was a Jew was not +lost upon her father. "Of course you would take his part against a +Christian," he said. + +<p>"I take no one's part against anyone," said she, "except so far as +right is concerned. If we take a Jew's money, I think we should give +him the thing which he purchases." + +<p>"Who is keeping him from it?" said Balatka, angrily. + +<p>"Well — I suppose it is my uncle," replied Nina. + +<p>"Why cannot you let me be at peace then?" + +<p>Having so said he turned himself round to the wall, and Nina felt +herself to be in a worse position than ever. There was nothing now for +her but to take the key, or else to tell her lover that she would not +obey him. There could be no further hope in diplomacy. She had just +resolved that she could not take the key — that in spite of her promise +she could not bring herself to treat her father after such fashion as +that — when the old man turned suddenly round upon her again, and went +back to the subject. + +<p>"I have got a letter somewhere from Karil Zamenoy," said he, "telling +me that the deed is in his own chest." + +<p>"Have you, father?" said she, anxiously, but struggling to repress her +anxiety. + +<p>"I had it, I know. It was written ever so long ago — before I had +settled with the Trendellsohns; but I have seen it often since. Take +the key and unlock the desk, and bring me the bundle of papers that +are tied with an old tape; or — stop — bring me all the papers." With +trembling hand Nina took the key. She was now desired by her father to +do exactly that which her lover wished her to have done; or, better +still, her father was about to do the thing himself. She would at any +rate have positive proof that the paper was not in her father's desk. +He had desired her to bring all the papers, so that there would be no +doubt left. She took the key very gently, as softly as was possible to +her, and went slowly into the other room. When there she unlocked the +desk and took out the bundle of letters tied with an old tape which lay +at the top ready to her hand. Then she collected together the other +papers, which were not many, and without looking at them carried them +to her father. She studiously avoided any scrutiny of what there might +be, even by so much as a glance of her eye. "This seems to be all there +is, father, except one or two old account-books." + +<p>He took the bundle, and with feeble hands untied the tape and moved +the documents, one by one. Nina felt that she was fully warranted in +looking at them now, as her father was in fact showing them to her. +In this way she would be able to give evidence in his favour without +having had recourse to any ignoble practice. The old man moved every +paper in the bundle, and she could see that they were all letters. She +had understood that the deed for which Trendellsohn had desired her to +search was written on a larger paper than any she now saw, and that she +might thus know it at once. There was, certainly, no such deed among +the papers which her father slowly turned over, and which he slowly +proceeded to tie up again with the old tape. "I am sure I saw it the +other day," he said, fingering among the loose papers while Nina looked +on with anxious eyes. Then at last he found the letter from Karil +Zamenoy, and having read it himself, gave it her to read. It was dated +seven or eight years back, at a time when Balatka was only on his way +to ruin — not absolutely ruined, as was the case with him now — and +contained an offer on Zamenoy's part to give safe custody to certain +documents which were named, and among which the deed now sought for +stood first. + +<p>"And has he got all those other papers?" Nina asked. + +<p>"No! he has none of them, unless he has this. There is nothing left but +this one that the Jew wants." + +<p>"And uncle Karil has never given that back?" + +<p>"Never." + +<p>"And it should belong to Stephen Trendellsohn?" + +<p>"Yes, I suppose it should." + +<p>"Who can wonder, then, that they should be anxious and inquire after +it, and make a noise about it? Will not the law make uncle Karil give +it up?" + +<p>"How can the law prove that he has got it? I know nothing about the +law. Put them all back again." Then Nina replaced the papers and locked +the desk. She had, at any rate, been absolutely and entirely successful +in her diplomacy, and would be able to assure Anton Trendellsohn, of +her knowledge, that that which he sought was not in her father's +keeping. + +<p>On the same day she went out to sell her necklace. She waited till +it was nearly dark — till the first dusk of evening had come upon the +street — and then she crossed the bridge and hurried to a jeweller's +shop in the Grosser Ring which she had observed, and at which she knew +such trinkets as hers were customarily purchased. The Grosser Ring +is an open space — such as we call a square — in the oldest part of the +town, and in it stand the Town Hall and the Theinkirche, which may be +regarded as the most special church in Prague, as there for many years +were taught the doctrines of Huss, the great Reformer of Bohemia. +Here, in the Grosser Ring, there was generally a crowd of an evening, +as Nina knew, and she thought that she could go in and out of the +jeweller's shop without observation. She believed that she might be +able to borrow money on her treasure, leaving it as a deposit; and +this, if possible, she would do. There were regular pawnbrokers in the +town, by whom no questions would be made, who, of course, would lend +her money in the ordinary way of their trade; but she believed that +such people would advance to her but a very small portion of the value +of her necklace; and then, if, as would be too probable, she could not +redeem it, the necklace would be gone, and gone without a price! + +<p>"Yes, it is my own, altogether my own — my very own." She had to explain +all the circumstances to the jeweller, and at last, with a view of +quelling any suspicion, she told the jeweler what was her name, and +explained how poor were the circumstances of her house. "But you must +be the niece of Madame Zamenoy, in the Windberg-gasse," said the +jeweller. And then, when Nina with hesitation acknowledged that such +was the case, the man asked her why she did not go to her rich aunt, +instead of selling a trinket which must be so valuable. + +<p>"No!" said Nina, "I cannot do that. If you will lend me something of +its value, I shall be so much obliged to you." + +<p>"But Madame Zamenoy would surely help you?" + +<p>"We would not take it from her. But we will not speak of that, sir. +Can I have the money?" Then the jeweller gave her a receipt for the +necklace and took her receipt for the sum he lent her. It was more than +Nina had expected, and she rejoiced that she had so well completed her +business. Nevertheless she wished that the jeweller had known nothing +of her aunt. She was hardly out of the shop before she met her cousin +Ziska, and she so met him that she could not escape him. She heard his +voice, indeed, almost as soon as she recognised him, and had stopped at +his summons before she had calculated whether it might not be better to +run away. "What, Nina! is that you?" said Ziska, taking her hand before +she knew how to refuse it to him. + +<p>"Yes; it is I," said Nina. + +<p>"What are you doing here?" + +<p>"Why should I not be in the Grosser Ring as well as another? It is open +to rich and poor." + +<p>"So is Rapinsky's shop; but poor people do not generally have much to +do there." Rapinsky was the name of the jeweller who had advanced the +money to Nina. + +<p>"No, not much," said Nina. "What little they have to sell is soon +sold." + +<p>"And have you been selling anything?" + +<p>"Nothing of yours, Ziska." + +<p>"But have you been selling anything?" + +<p>"Why do you ask me? What business is it of yours?" + +<p>"They say that Anton Trendellsohn, the Jew, gives you all that you +want," said Ziska. + +<p>"Then they say lies," said Nina, her eyes flashing fire upon her +Christian lover through the gloom of the evening. "Who says so? You say +so. No one else would be mean enough to be so false." + +<p>"All Prague says so." + +<p>"All Prague! I know what that means. And did all Prague go to the Jews' +quarter last Saturday, to tell Anton Trendellsohn that the paper which +he wants, and which is his own, was in father's keeping? Was it all +Prague told that falsehood also?" There was a scorn in her face as she +spoke which distressed Ziska greatly, but which he did not know how to +meet or how to answer. He wanted to be brave before her; and he wanted +also to show his affection for her, if only he knew how to do so, +without making himself humble in her presence. + +<p>"Shall I tell you, Nina, why I went to the Jews' quarter on Saturday?" + +<p>"No; tell me nothing. I wish to hear nothing from you. I know enough +without your telling me." + +<p>"I wish to save you if it be possible, because — because I love you." + +<p>"And I — I never wish to see you again, because I hate you. I hate you, +because you have been cruel. But let me tell you this; poor as we are, +I have never taken a farthing of Anton's money. When I am his wife, as +I hope to be — as I hope to be — I will take what he gives me as though +it came from heaven. From you! — I would sooner die in the street +than take a crust of bread from you." Then she darted from him, and +succeeded in escaping without hearing the words with which he replied +to her angry taunts. She was woman enough to understand that her +keenest weapon for wounding him would be an expression of unbounded +love and confidence as to the man who was his rival; and therefore, +though she was compelled to deny that she had lived on the charity of +her lover, she had coupled her denial with an assurance of her faith +and affection, which was, no doubt, bitter enough in Ziska's ears. "I +do believe that she is witched," he said, as he turned away towards his +own house. And then he reflected wisely on the backward tendency of the +world in general, and regretted much that there was no longer given to +priests in Bohemia the power of treating with salutary ecclesiastical +severity patients suffering in the way in which his cousin Nina was +afflicted. + +<p>Nina had hardly got out of the Grosser Ring into the narrow street +which leads from thence towards the bridge, when she encountered her +other lover. He was walking slowly down the centre of the street when +she passed him, or would have passed him, had not she recognized his +figure through the gloom. "Anton," she said, coming up to him and +touching his arm as lightly as was possible. "I am so glad to meet +you here." + +<p>"Nina?" + +<p>"Yes; Nina." + +<p>"And what have you been doing?" + +<p>"I don't know that I want to tell you; only that I like to tell you +everything." + +<p>"If so, you can tell me this." Nina, however, hesitated. "If you have +secrets, I do not want to inquire into them," said the Jew. + +<p>"I would rather have no secrets from you, only — " + +<p>"Only what?" + +<p>"Well; I will tell you. I had a necklace; and we are not very rich, you +know, at home; and I wanted to get something for father, and — " + +<p>"You have sold it?" + +<p>"No; I have not sold it. The man was very civil, indeed quite kind, and +he lent me some money." + +<p>"But the kind man kept the necklace, I suppose." + +<p>"Of course he kept the necklace. You would not have me borrow money +from a stranger, and leave him nothing?" + +<p>"No; I would not have you do that. But why not borrow from one who is +no stranger?" + +<p>"I do not want to borrow at all," said Nina, in her lowest tone. + +<p>"Are you ashamed to come to me in your trouble?" + +<p>"Yes," said Nina. "I should be ashamed to come to you for money. I +would not take it from you." + +<p>He did not answer her at once, but walked on slowly while she kept +close to his side. + +<p>"Give me the jeweller's docket," he said at last. Nina hesitated for a +moment, and then he repeated his demand in a sterner voice. "Nina, give +me the jeweller's docket." Then she put her hand in her pocket and gave +it him. She was very averse to doing so, but she was more averse to +refusing him aught that he asked of her. + +<p>"I have got something to tell you, Anton," she said, as soon as he had +put the jeweller's paper into his purse. + +<p>"Well — what is it?" + +<p>"I have seen every paper and every morsel of everything that is in +father's desk, and there is no sign of the deed you want." + +<p>"And how did you see them?" + +<p>"He showed them to me." + +<p>"You told him, then, what I had said to you?" + +<p>"No; I told him nothing about it. He gave me the key, and desired me to +fetch him all the papers. He wanted to find a letter which uncle Karil +wrote him ever so long ago. In that letter uncle Karil acknowledges +that he has the deed." + +<p>"I do not doubt that in the least." + +<p>"And what is it you do doubt, Anton?" + +<p>"I do not say I doubt anything." + +<p>"Do you doubt me, Anton?" + +<p>There was a little pause before he answered her — the slightest moment +of hesitation. But had it been but half as much, Nina's ear and Nina's +heart would have detected it. "No," said Anton, "I am not saying that I +doubt any one." + +<p>"If you doubt me, you will kill me. I am at any rate true to you. What +is it you want? What is it you think?" + +<p>"They tell me that the document is in the house in the Kleinseite." + +<p>"Who are they? Who is it that tells you?" + +<p>"More than one. Your uncle and aunt said so — and Ziska Zamenoy came to +me on purpose to repeat the same." + +<p>"And would you believe what Ziska says? I have hardly thought it worth +my while to tell you that Ziska — " + +<p>"To tell me what of Ziska?" + +<p>"That Ziska pretends to — to want that I should be his wife. I would not +look at him if there were not another man in Prague. I hate him. He is +a liar. Would you believe Ziska?" + +<p>"And another has told me." + +<p>"Another?" said Nina, considering. + +<p>"Yes, another." + +<p>"Lotta Luxa, I suppose." + +<p>"Never mind. They say indeed that it is you who have the deed." + +<p>"And you believe them?" + +<p>"No, I do not believe them. But why do they say so?" + +<p>"Must I explain that? How can I tell? Anton, do you not believe that +the woman who loves you will be true to you?" + +<p>Then he paused again — "Nina, sometimes I think that I have been mad to +love a Christian." + +<p>"What have I been then? But I do love you, Anton — I love you better +than all the world. I care nothing for Jew or Christian. When I think +of you, I care nothing for heaven or earth. You are everything to me, +because I love you. How could I deceive you?" + +<p>"Nina, Nina, my own one!" he said. + +<p>"And as I love you, so do you love me? Say that you love me also." + +<p>"I do," said he — "I love you as I love my own soul." + +<p>Then they parted; and Nina, as she went home, tried to make herself +happy with the assurance which had been given to her by the last words +her lover had spoken; but still there remained with her that suspicion +of a doubt which, if it really existed, would be so cruel an injury to +her love. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER X</h3> +</center> + +<p>Some days passed on after the visit to the jeweller's shop — perhaps ten +or twelve — before Nina heard from or saw her lover again; and during +that time she had no tidings from her relatives in the Windberg-gasse. +Life went on very quietly in the old house, and not the less quietly +because the proceeds of the necklace saved Nina from any further +immediate necessity of searching for money. The cold weather had come, +or rather weather that was cold in the morning and cold in the evening, +and old Balatka kept his bed altogether. His state was such that no one +could say why he should not get up and dress himself, and he himself +continued to speak of some future time when he would do so; but there +he was, lying in his bed, and Nina told herself that in all probability +she would never see him about the house again. For herself, she was +becoming painfully anxious that some day should be fixed for her +marriage. She knew that she was, herself, ignorant in such matters; +and she knew also that there was no woman near her from whom she could +seek counsel. Were she to go to some matron of the neighbourhood, her +neighbour would only rebuke her, because she loved a Jew. She had +boldly told her relatives of her love, and by doing so had shut herself +out from all assistance from them. From even her father she could get +no sympathy; though with him her engagement had become so far a thing +sanctioned, that he had ceased to speak of it in words of reproach. +But when was it to be? She had more than once made up her mind that +she would ask her lover, but her courage had never as yet mounted high +enough in his presence to allow her to do so. When he was with her, +their conversation always took such a turn that before she left him she +was happy enough if she could only draw from him an assurance that he +was not forgetting to love her. Of any final time for her marriage he +never said a word. In the mean time she and her father might starve! +They could not live on the price of a necklace for ever. She had not +made up her mind — she never could make up her mind — as to what might be +best for her father when she should be married; but she had made up her +mind that when that happy time should come, she would simply obey her +husband. He would tell her what would be best for her father. But in +the mean time there was no word of her marriage; and now she had been +ten days in the Kleinseite without once having had so much as a message +from her lover. How was it possible that she should continue to live in +such a condition as this? + +<p>She was sitting one morning very forlorn in the big parlour, looking +out upon the birds who were pecking among the dust in the courtyard +below, when her eye just caught the drapery of the dress of some woman +who had entered the arched gateway. Nina, from her place by the window, +could see out through the arch, and no one therefore could come through +their gate while she was at her seat without passing under her eye; but +on this occasion the birds had distracted her attention, and she had +not caught a sight of the woman's face or figure. Could it be her aunt +come to torture her again — her and her father? She knew that Souchey +was down-stairs, hanging somewhere in idleness about the door, and +therefore she did not leave her place. If it were indeed her aunt, her +aunt might come up there to seek her. Or it might possibly be Lotta +Luxa, who, next to her aunt, was of all women the most disagreeable to +Nina. Lotta, indeed, was not so hard to bear as aunt Sophie, because +Lotta could be answered sharply, and could be told to go, if matters +proceeded to extremities. In such a case Lotta no doubt would not +go; but still the power of desiring her to do so was much. Then Nina +remembered that Lotta never wore her petticoats so full as was the +morsel of drapery which she had seen. And as she thought of this +there came a low knock at the door. Nina, without rising, desired the +stranger to come in. Then the door was gently opened, and Rebecca Loth +the Jewess stood before her. Nina had seen Rebecca, but had never +spoken to her. Each girl had heard much of the other from their younger +friend Ruth Jacobi. Ruth was very intimate with them both, and Nina had +been willing enough to be told of Rebecca, as had Rebecca also to be +told of Nina. "Grandfather wants Anton to marry Rebecca," Ruth had said +more than once; and thus Nina knew well that Rebecca was her rival. "I +think he loves her better than his own eyes," Ruth had said to Rebecca, +speaking of her uncle and Nina. Rut Rebecca had heard from a thousand +sources of information that he who was to have been her lover had +forgotten his own people and his own religion, and had given himself +to a Christian girl. Each, therefore, now knew that she looked upon an +enemy and a rival; but each was anxious to be very courteous to her +enemy. + +<p>Nina rose from her chair directly she saw her visitor, and came forward +to meet her. "I suppose you hardly know who I am, Fräulein?" said +Rebecca. + +<p>"Oh, yes," said Nina, with her pleasantest smile; "you are Rebecca +Loth." + +<p>"Yes, I am Rebecca Loth, the Jewess." + +<p>"I like the Jews," said Nina. + +<p>Rebecca was not dressed now as she had been dressed on that gala +occasion when we saw her in the Jews' quarter. Then she had been as +smart as white muslin and bright ribbons and velvet could make her. Now +she was clad almost entirely in black, and over her shoulders she wore +a dark shawl, drawn closely round her neck. But she had on her head, +now as then, that peculiar Hungarian hat which looks almost like a +coronet in front, and gives an aspect to the girl who wears it half +defiant and half attractive; and there were there, of course, the long, +glossy, black curls, and the dark-blue eyes, and the turn of the face, +which was so completely Jewish in its hard, bold, almost repellant +beauty. Nina had said that she liked the Jews, but when the words were +spoken she remembered that they might be open to misconstruction, and +she blushed. The same idea occurred to Rebecca, but she scorned to take +advantage of even a successful rival on such a point as that. She would +not twit Nina by any hint that this assumed liking for the Jews was +simply a special predilection for one Jew in particular. "We are not +ungrateful to you for coming among us and knowing us," said Rebecca. +Then there was a slight pause, for Nina hardly knew what to say to +her visitor. But Rebecca continued to speak. "We hear that in other +countries the prejudice against us is dying away, and that Christians +stay with Jews in their houses, and Jews with Christians, eating with +them, and drinking with them. I fear it will never be so in Prague." + +<p>"And why not in Prague? I hope it may. Why should we not do in Prague +as they do elsewhere?" + +<p>"Ah, the feeling is so firmly settled here. We have our own quarter, +and live altogether apart. A Christian here will hardly walk with a +Jew, unless it be from counter to counter, or from bank to bank. As for +their living together — or even eating in the same room — do you ever see +it?" + +<p>Nina of course understood the meaning of this. That which the girl said +to her was intended to prove to her how impossible it was that she +should marry a Jew, and live in Prague with a Jew as his wife; but she, +who stood her ground before aunt Sophie, who had never flinched for a +moment before all the threats which could be showered upon her from +the Christian side, was not going to quail before the opposition of a +Jewess, and that Jewess a rival! + +<p>"I do not know why we should not live to see it," said Nina. + +<p>"It must take long first — very long," said Rebecca. "Even now, +Fräulein, I fear you will think that I am very intrusive in coming to +you. I know that a Jewess has no right to push her acquaintance upon a +Christian girl." The Jewess spoke very humbly of herself and of her +people; but in every word she uttered there was a slight touch of irony +which was not lost upon Nina. Nina could not but bethink herself that +she was poor — so poor that everything around her, on her, and about +her, told of poverty; while Rebecca was very rich, and showed her +wealth even in the sombre garments which she had chosen for her morning +visit. No idea of Nina's poverty had crossed Rebecca's mind, but Nina +herself could not but remember it when she felt the sarcasm implied in +her visitor's self-humiliation. + +<p>"I am glad that you have come to me — very glad indeed, if you have come +in friendship." Then she blushed as she continued, "To me, situated as +I am, the friendship of a Jewish maiden would be a treasure indeed." + +<p>"You intend to speak of — " + +<p>"I speak of my engagement with Anton Trendellsohn. I do so with you +because I know that you have heard of it. You tell me that Jews and +Christians cannot come together in Prague, but I mean to marry a Jew. A +Jew is my lover. If you will say that you will be my friend, I will +love you indeed. Ruth Jacobi is my friend; but then Ruth is so young." + +<p>"Yes, Ruth is very young. She is a child. She knows nothing." + +<p>"A child's friendship is better than none." + +<p>"Ruth is very young. She cannot understand. I too love Ruth Jacobi. I +have known her since she was born. I knew and loved her mother. You do +not remember Ruth Trendellsohn. No; your acquaintance with them is only +of the other day." + +<p>"Ruth's mother has been dead seven years," said Nina. + +<p>"And what are seven years? I have known them for four-and-twenty." + +<p>"Nay; that cannot be." + +<p>"But I have. That is my age, and I was born, so to say, in their arms. +Ruth Trendellsohn was ten years older than I — only ten." + +<p>"And Anton?" + +<p>"Anton was a year older than his sister; but you know Anton's age. Has +he never told you his age?" + +<p>"I never asked him; but I know it. There are things one knows as a +matter of course. I remember his birthday always." + +<p>"It has been a short always." + +<p>"No, not so short. Two years is not a short time to know a friend." + +<p>"But he has not been betrothed to you for two years?" + +<p>"No; not betrothed to me." + +<p>"Nor has he loved you so long; nor you him?" + +<p>"For him, I can only speak of the time when he first told me so." + +<p>"And that was but the other day — but the other day, as I count the +time." To this Nina made no answer. She could not claim to have known +her lover from so early a date as Rebecca Loth had done, who had been, +as she said, born in the arms of his family. But what of that? Men +do not always love best those women whom they have known the longest. +Anton Trendellsohn had known her long enough to find that he loved her +best. Why then should this Jewish girl come to her and throw in her +teeth the shortness of her intimacy with the man who was to be her +husband? If she, Nina, had also been a Jewess, Rebecca Loth would not +then have spoken in such a way. As she thought of this she turned her +face away from the stranger, and looked out among the sparrows who were +still pecking among the dust in the court. She had told Rebecca at the +beginning of their interview that she would be delighted to find a +friend in a Jewess, but now she felt sorry that the girl had come to +her. For Anton's sake she would bear with much from one whom he had +known so long. But for that thought she would have answered her visitor +with short courtesy. As it was, she sat silent and looked out upon the +birds. + +<p>"I have come to you now," said Rebecca Loth, "to say a few words to you +about Anton Trendellsohn. I hope you will not refuse to listen." + +<p>"That will depend on what you say." + +<p>"Do you think it will be for his good to marry a Christian?" + +<p>"I shall leave him to judge of that," replied Nina, sharply. + +<p>"It cannot be that you do not think of it. I am sure you would not +willingly do an injury to the man you love." + +<p>"I would die for him, if that would serve him." + +<p>"You can serve him without dying. If he takes you for his wife, all his +people will turn against him. His own father will become his enemy." + +<p>"How can that be? His father knows of it, and yet he is not my enemy." + +<p>"It is as I tell you. His father will disinherit him. Every Jew in +Prague will turn his back upon him. He knows it now. Anton knows it +himself, but he cannot be the first to say the word that shall put an +end to your engagement." + +<p>"Jews have married Christians in Prague before now," said Nina, +pleading her own cause with all the strength she had. + +<p>"But not such a one as Anton Trendellsohn. An unconsidered man may do +that which is not permitted to those who are more in note." + +<p>"There is no law against it now." + +<p>"That is true. There is no law. But there are habits stronger than law. +In your own case, do you not know that all the friends you have in the +world will turn their backs upon you? And so it would be with him. You +two would be alone — neither as Jews nor as Christians — with none to aid +you, with no friend to love you." + +<p>"For myself I care nothing," said Nina. "They may say, if they like, +that I am no Christian." + +<p>"But how will it be with him? Can you ever be happy if you have been +the cause of ruin to your husband?" + +<p>Nina was again silent for a while, sitting with her face turned +altogether away from the Jewess. Then she rose suddenly from her +chair, and, facing round almost fiercely upon the other girl, asked +a question, which came from the fulness of her heart, "And you — you +yourself, what is it that you intend to do? Do you wish to marry him?" + +<p>"I do," said Rebecca, bearing Nina's gaze without dropping her own eyes +for a moment. "I do. I do wish to be the wife of Anton Trendellsohn." + +<p>"Then you shall never have your wish — never. He loves me, and me only. +Ask him, and he will tell you so." + +<p>"I have asked him, and he has told me so." There was something so +serious, so sad, and so determined in the manner of the young Jewess, +that it almost cowed Nina — almost drove her to yield before her +visitor. "If he has told you so," she said — then she stopped, not +wishing to triumph over her rival. + +<p>"He has told me so; but I knew it without his telling. We all know it. +I have not come here to deceive you, or to create false suspicions. He +does love you. He cares nothing for me, and he does love you. But is he +therefore to be ruined? Which had he better lose? All that he has in +the world, or the girl that has taken his fancy?" + +<p>"I would sooner lose the world twice over than lose him." + +<p>"Yes; but you are only a woman. Think of his position. There is not a +Jew in all Prague respected among us as he is respected. He knows more, +can do more, has more of wit and cleverness, than any of us. We look to +him to win for the Jews in Prague something of the freedom which Jews +have elsewhere — in Paris and in London. If he takes a Christian for his +wife, all this will be destroyed." + +<p>"But all will be well if he were to marry you!" + +<p>Now it was Rebecca's turn to pause; but it was not for long. "I love +him dearly," she said; "with a love as warm as yours." + +<p>"And therefore I am to be untrue to him," said Nina, again seating +herself. + +<p>"And were I to become his wife," continued Rebecca, not regarding the +interruption, "it would be well with him in a worldly point of view. +All our people would be glad, because there has been friendship between +the families from of old. His father would be pleased, and he would +become rich; and I also am not without some wealth of my own." + +<p>"While I am poor," said Nina; "so poor that — look here, I can only mend +my rags. There, look at my shoes. I have not another pair to my feet. +But if he likes me, poor and ragged, better than he likes you, rich — " +She got so far, raising her voice as she spoke; but she could get no +farther, for her sobs stopped her voice. + +<p>But while she was struggling to speak, the other girl rose and knelt at +Nina's feet, putting her long tapering fingers upon Nina's thread-bare +arms, so that her forehead was almost close to Nina's lips. "He does," +said Rebecca. "It is true — quite true. He loves you, poor as you are, +ten times — a hundred times — better than he loves me, who am not poor. +You have won it altogether by yourself, with nothing of outside art to +back you. You have your triumph. Will not that be enough for a life's +contentment?" + +<p>"No — no, no," said Nina. "No, it will not be enough." But her voice +now was not altogether sorrowful. There was in it something of a wild +joy which had come to her heart from the generous admission which the +Jewess made. She did triumph as she remembered that she had conquered +with no other weapons than those which nature had given her. + +<p>"It is more of contentment than I shall ever have," said Rebecca. +"Listen to me. If you will say to me that you will release him from +his promise, I will swear to you by the God whom we both worship, that +I will never become his wife — that he shall never touch me or speak to +me in love." She had risen before she made this proposal, and now stood +before Nina with one hand raised, with her blue eyes fixed upon Nina's +face, and a solemnity in her manner which for a while startled Nina +into silence. "You will believe my word, I am sure," said Rebecca. + +<p>"Yes, I would believe you," said Nina. + +<p>"Shall it be a bargain between us? Say so, and whatever is mine shall +be mine and yours too. Though a Jew may not make a Christian his wife, +a Jewish girl may love a Christian maiden; and then, Nina, we shall +both know that we have done our very best for him whom we both love +better than all the world beside." + +<p>Nina was again silent, considering the proposition that had been made +to her. There was one thing that she did not see; one point of view +in which the matter had not been presented to her. The cause for her +sacrifice had been made plain to her, but why was the sacrifice of the +other also to become necessary? By not yielding she might be able to +keep her lover to herself; but if she were to be induced to abandon him + — for his sake, so that he might not be ruined by his love for her — +why, in that case, should he not take the other girl for his wife? In +such a case Nina told herself that there would be no world left for +her. There would be nothing left for her beyond the accomplishment of +Lotta Luxa's prophecy. But yet, though she thought of this, though in +her misery she half resolved that she would give up Anton, and not +exact from Rebecca the oath which the Jewess had tendered, still, in +spite of that feeling, the dread of a rival's success helped to make +her feel that she could never bring herself to yield. + +<p>"Shall it be as I say?" said Rebecca; "and shall we, dear, be friends +while we live?" + +<p>"No," said Nina, suddenly. + +<p>"You cannot bring yourself to do so much for the man you love?" + +<p>"No, I cannot. Could you throw yourself from the bridge into the +Moldau, and drown yourself?" + +<p>"Yes," said Rebecca, "I could. If it would serve him, I think that I +could do so." + +<p>"What! in the dark, when it is so cold? The people would see you in the +daytime." + +<p>"But I would live, that I might hear of his doings, and see his +success." + +<p>"Ah! I could not live without feeling that he loved me." + +<p>"But what will you think of his love when it has ruined him? Will it be +pleasant then? Were I to do that, then — then I should bethink myself of +the cold river and the dark night, and the eyes of the passers-by whom +I should be afraid to meet in the daytime. I ask you to be as I am. Who +is there that pities me? Think again, Nina. I know you would wish that +he should be prosperous." + +<p>Nina did think again, and thought long. And she wept, and the Jewess +comforted her, and many words were said between them beyond those which +have been here set down; but, in the end, Nina could not bring herself +to say that she would give him up. For his sake had she not given up +her uncle and her aunt, and St John and St Nicholas — and the very +Virgin herself, whose picture she had now removed from the wall +beside her bed to a dark drawer? How could she give up that which was +everything she had in the world — the very life of her bosom? "I will +ask him — him himself," she said at last, hoarsely. "I will ask him, and +do as he bids me. I cannot do anything unless it is as he bids me." + +<p>"In this matter you must act on your own judgment, Nina." + +<p>"No, I will not. I have no judgment. He must judge for me in +everything. If he says it is better that we should part, then — then — +then I will let him go." + +<p>After this Rebecca left the room and the house. Before she went, she +kissed the Christian girl; but Nina did not remember that she had been +kissed. Her mind was so full, not of thought, but of the suggestion +that had been made to her, that it could now take no impression from +anything else. She had been recommended to do a thing as her duty — as +a paramount duty towards him who was everything to her — the doing of +which it would be impossible that she should survive. So she told +herself when she was once more alone, and had again seated herself in +the chair by the window. She did not for a moment accuse Rebecca of +dealing unfairly with her. It never occurred to her as possible that +the Jewess had come to her with false views of her own fabrication. +Had she so believed, her suspicions would have done great injustice to +her rival; but no such idea presented itself to Nina's mind. All that +Rebecca had said to her had come to her as though it were gospel. She +did believe that Trendellsohn, as a Jew, would injure himself greatly +by marrying a Christian. She did believe that the Jews of Prague would +treat him somewhat as the Christians would treat herself. For herself +such treatment would be nothing, if she were but once married; but she +could understand that to him it would be ruinous. And Nina believed +also that Rebecca had been entirely disinterested in her mission — that +she came thither, not to gain a lover for herself, but to save from +injury the man she loved, without reference to her own passion. Nina +knew that Rebecca was strong and good, and acknowledged also that she +herself was weak and selfish. She thought that she ought to have been +persuaded to make the sacrifice, and once or twice she almost resolved +that she would follow Rebecca to the Jews' quarter and tell her that it +should be made. But she could not do it. Were she to do so, what would +be left to her? With him she could bear anything, everything. To starve +would hardly be bitter to her, so that his arm could be round her +waist, and that her head could be on his shoulder. And, moreover, was +she not his to do with as he pleased? After all her promises to him, +how could she take upon herself to dispose of herself otherwise than as +he might direct? + +<p>But then some thought of the missing document came back upon her, and +she remembered in her grief that he suspected her — that even now he +had some frightful doubt as to her truth to him — her faith, which was, +alas, alas! more firm and bright towards him than towards that heavenly +Friend whose aid would certainly suffice to bring her through all her +troubles, if only she could bring herself to trust as she asked it. But +she could trust only in him, and he doubted her! Would it not be better +to do as Rebecca said, and make the most of such contentment as might +come to her from her triumph over herself? That would be better — ten +times better than to be abandoned by him — to be deserted by her Jew +lover, because the Jew would not trust her, a Christian! On either side +there could be nothing for her but death; but there is a choice even of +deaths. If she did the thing herself, she thought that there might be +something sweet even in the sadness of her last hour — something of the +flavour of sacrifice. But should it be done by him, in that way there +lay nothing but the madness of desolation! It was her last resolve, as +she still sat at the window counting the sparrows in the yard, that she +would tell him everything, and leave it to him to decide. If he would +say that it was better for them to part, then he might go; and Rebecca +Loth might become his wife, if he so wished it. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XI</h3> +</center> + +<p>On one of these days old Trendellsohn went to the office of Karil +Zamenoy, in the Ross Markt, with the full determination of learning in +truth what there might be to be learned as to that deed which would be +so necessary to him, or to those who would come after him, when Josef +Balatka might die. He accused himself of having been foolishly +soft-hearted in his transactions with this Christian, and reminded himself +from time to time that no Jew in Prague would have been so treated by +any Christian. And what was the return made to him? Among them they had +now secreted that of which he should have enforced the rendering before +he had parted with his own money; and this they did because they knew +that he would be unwilling to take harsh legal proceedings against a +bed-ridden old man! In this frame of mind he went to the Ross Markt, +and there he was assured over and over again by Ziska Zamenoy — for +Karil Zamenoy was not to be seen — that Nina Balatka had the deed in her +own keeping. The name of Nina Balatka was becoming very grievous to the +old man. Even he, when the matter had first been broached to him, had +not recognised all the evils which would come from a marriage between +his son and a Christian maiden; but of late his neighbours had been +around him, and he had looked into the thing, and his eyes had been +opened, and he had declared to himself that he would not take a +Christian girl into his house as his daughter-in-law. He could not +prevent the marriage. The law would be on his son's side. The law of +the Christian kingdom in which he lived allowed such marriages, and +Anton, if he executed the contract which would make the marriage valid, +would in truth be the girl's husband. But — and Trendellsohn, as he +remembered the power which was still in his hands, almost regretted +that he held it — if this thing were done, his son must go out from his +house, and be his son no longer. + +<p>The old man was very proud of his son. Rebecca had said truly that no +Jew in Prague was so respected among Jews as Anton Trendellsohn. She +might have added, also, that none was more highly esteemed among +Christians. To lose such a son would be a loss indeed. "I will share +everything with him, and he shall go away out of Bohemia," Trendellsohn +had said to himself. "He has earned it, and he shall have it. He has +worked for me — for us both — without asking me, his father, to bind +myself with any bond. He shall have the wealth which is his own, but he +shall not have it here. Ah! if he would but take that other one as his +bride, he should have everything, and his father's blessing — and then +he would be the first instead of the last among his people." Such was +the purpose of Stephen Trendellsohn towards his son; but this, his real +purpose, did not hinder him from threatening worse things. To prevent +the marriage was his great object; and if threats would prevent it, why +should he not use them? + +<p>But now he had conceived the idea that Nina was deceiving his son — that +Nina was in truth holding back the deed with some view which he could +hardly fathom. Ziska Zamenoy had declared, with all the emphasis in +his power, that the document was, to the best of his belief, in Nina's +hands; and though Ziska's emphasis would not have gone far in +convincing the Jew, had the Jew's mind been turned in the other +direction, now it had its effect. "And who gave it her?" Trendellsohn +had asked. "Ah, there you must excuse me," Ziska had answered; "though, +indeed, I could not tell you if I would. But we have nothing to do with +the matter. We have no claim upon the houses. It is between you and the +Balatkas." Then the Jew had left the Zamenoys' office, and had gone +home, fully believing that the deed was in Nina's hands. + +<p>"Yes, it is so — she is deceiving you," he said to his son that evening. + +<p>"No father. I think not." + +<p>"Very well. You will find, when it is too late, that my words are true. +Have you ever known a Christian who thought it wrong to rob a Jew?" + +<p>"I do not believe that Nina would rob me." + +<p>"Ah! that is the confidence of what you call love. She is honest, you +think, because she has a pretty face." + +<p>"She is honest, I think, because she loves me." + +<p>"Bah! Does love make men honest, or women either? Do we not see every +day how these Christians rob each other in their money dealings when +they are marrying? What was the girl's name? — old Thibolski's daughter + — how they robbed her when they married her, and how her people tried +their best to rob the lad she married. Did we not see it all?" + +<p>"It was not the girl who did it — not the girl herself." + +<p>"Why should a woman be honester than a man? I tell you, Anton, that +this girl has the deed." + +<p>"Ziska Zamenoy has told you so?" + +<p>"Yes, he has told me. But I am not a man to be deceived because such a +one as Ziska wishes to deceive me. You, at least, know me better than +that. That which I tell you, Ziska himself believes." + +<p>"But Ziska may believe wrongly." + +<p>"Why should he do so? Whose interest can it be to make this thing seem +so, if it be not so? If the girl have the deed, you can get it more +readily from her than from the Zamenoys. Believe me, Anton, the deed is +with the girl." + +<p>"If it be so, I shall never believe again in the truth of a human +being," said the son. + +<p>"Believe in the truth of your own people," said the father. "Why should +you seek to be wiser than them all?" + +<p>The father did not convince the son, but the words which he had spoken +helped to create a doubt which already had almost an existence of its +own. Anton Trendellsohn was prone to suspicions, and now was beginning +to suspect Nina, although he strove hard to keep his mind free from +such taint. His better nature told him that it was impossible that she +should deceive him. He had read the very inside of her heart, and knew +that her only delight was in his love. He understood perfectly the +weakness and faith and beauty of her feminine nature, and her trusting, +leaning softness was to his harder spirit as water to a thirsting +man in the desert. When she clung to him, promising to obey him in +everything, the touch of her hands, and the sound of her voice, and the +beseeching glance of her loving eyes, were food and drink to him. He +knew that her presence refreshed him and cooled him — made him young +as he was growing old, and filled his mind with sweet thoughts which +hardly came to him but when she was with him. He had told himself over +and over again that it must be good for him to have such a one for his +wife, whether she were Jew or Christian. He knew himself to be a better +man when she was with him than at other moments of his life. And then +he loved her. He was thinking of her hourly, though his impatience to +see her was not as hers to be with him. He loved her. But yet — yet — +what if she should be deceiving him? To be able to deceive others, but +never to be deceived himself, was to him, unconsciously, the glory +which he desired. To be deceived was to be disgraced. What was all his +wit and acknowledged cunning if a girl — a Christian girl — could outwit +him? For himself, he could see clearly enough into things to be +aware that, as a rule, he could do better by truth than he could by +falsehood. He was not prone to deceive others. But in such matters he +desired ever to have the power with him to keep, as it were, the upper +hand. He would fain read the hearts of others entirely, and know their +wishes, and understand their schemes, whereas his own heart and his own +desires and his own schemes should only be legible in part. What if, +after all, he were unable to read the simple tablets of this girl's +mind — tablets which he had regarded as being altogether in his own +keeping? + +<p>He went forth for a while, walking slowly through the streets, as he +thought of this, wandering without an object, but turning over in his +mind his father's words. He knew that his father was anxious to prevent +his marriage. He knew that every Jew around him — for now the Jews +around him had all heard of it — was keenly anxious to prevent so great +a disgrace. He knew all that his father had threatened, and he was well +aware how complete was his father's power. But he could stand against +all that, if only Nina were true to him. He would go away from Prague. +What did it matter? Prague was not all the world. There were cities +better, nobler, richer than Prague, in which his brethren, the Jews, +would not turn their backs upon him because he had married a Christian. +It might be that he would have to begin the world again; but for that, +too, he would be prepared. Nina had shown that she could bear poverty. +Nina's torn boots and threadbare dress, and the utter absence of any +request ever made with regard to her own comfort, had not been lost +upon him. He knew how noble she was in bearing — how doubly noble she +was in never asking. If only there was nothing of deceit at the back to +mar it all! + +<p>He passed over the bridge, hardly knowing whither he was going, and +turned directly down towards Balatka's house. As he did so he observed +that certain repairs were needed in an adjoining building which +belonged to his father, and determined that a mason should be sent +there on the next day. Then he turned in under the archway, not passing +through it into the court, and there he stood looking up at the window, +in which Nina's small solitary lamp was twinkling. He knew that she was +sitting by the light, and that she was working. He knew that she would +be raised almost to a seventh heaven of delight if he would only call +her to the door and speak to her a dozen words before he returned to +his home. But he had no thought of doing it. Was it possible that she +should have this document in her keeping? — that was the thought that +filled his mind. He had bribed Lotta Luxa, and Lotta had sworn by her +Christian gods that the deed was in Nina's hands. If the thing was +false, why should they all conspire to tell the same falsehood? And yet +he knew that they were false in their natures. Their manner, the words +of each of them, betrayed something of falsehood to his well-tuned +ear, to his acute eye, to his sharp senses. But with Nina — from Nina +herself — everything that came from her spoke of truth. A sweet savour +of honesty hung about her breath, and was a blessing to him when he +was near enough to her to feel it. And yet he told himself that he was +bound to doubt. He stood for some half-hour in the archway, leaning +against the stonework at the side, and looking up at the window where +Nina was sitting. What was he to do? How should he carry himself in +this special period of his life? Great ideas about the destiny of his +people were mingled in his mind with suspicions as to Nina, of which he +should have been, and probably was, ashamed. He would certainly take +her away from Prague. He had already perceived that his marriage with a +Christian would be regarded in that stronghold of prejudice in which +he lived with so much animosity as to impede, and perhaps destroy, the +utility of his career. He would go away, taking Nina with him. And he +would be careful that she should never know, by a word or a look, that +he had in any way suffered for her sake. And he swore to himself that +he would be soft to her, and gentle, loving her with a love more +demonstrative than he had hitherto exhibited. He knew that he had been +stern, exacting, and sometimes harsh. All that should be mended. He had +learned her character, and perceived how absolutely she fed upon his +love; and he would take care that the food should always be there, +palpably there, for her sustenance. But — but he must try her yet once +more before all this could be done for her. She must pass yet once +again through the fire; and if then she should come forth as gold, she +should be to him the one pure ingot which the earth contained. With how +great a love would he not repay her in future days for all that she +would have suffered for his sake? + +<p>But she must be made to go through the fire again. He would tax her +with the possession of the missing deed, and call upon her to cleanse +herself from the accusation which was made against her. Once again he +would be harsh with her — harsh in appearance only — in order that his +subsequent tenderness might be so much more tender! She had already +borne much, and she must be made to endure once again. Did not he mean +to endure much for her sake? Was he not prepared to recommence the +troubles and toil of his life all from the beginning, in order that +she might be that life's companion? Surely he had the right to put her +through the fire, and prove her as never gold was proved before. + +<p>At last the little light was quenched, and Anton Trendellsohn felt +that he was alone. The unseen companion of his thoughts was no longer +with him, and it was useless for him to remain there standing in the +archway. He blew her a kiss from his lips, and blessed her in his +heart, and protested to himself that he knew she would come out of the +fire pure altogether and proved to be without dross. And then he went +his way. In the mean time Nina, chill and wretched, crept to her cold +bed, all unconscious of the happiness that had been so near her. "If he +thinks I can be false to him, it will be better to die," she said to +herself, as she drew the scanty clothing over her shivering shoulders. + +<p>As she did so her lover walked home, and having come to a resolution +which was intended to be definite as to his love, he allowed his +thoughts to run away with him to other subjects. After all, it would +be no evil to him to leave Prague. At Prague how little was there of +progress either in thought or in things material! At Prague a Jew could +earn money, and become rich — might own half the city; and yet at Prague +he could only live as an outcast. As regarded the laws of the land, he, +as a Jew, might fix his residence anywhere in Prague or around Prague; +he might have gardens, and lands, and all the results of money; he +might put his wife into a carriage twice as splendid as that which +constituted the great social triumph of Madame Zamenoy — but so strong +against such a mode of life were the traditional prejudices of +both Jews and Christians, that any such fashion of living would be +absolutely impossible to him. It would not be good for him that he +should remain at Prague. Knowing his father as he did, he could not +believe that the old man would be so unjust as to let him go altogether +empty-handed. He had toiled, and had been successful; and something of +the corn which he had garnered would surely be rendered to him. With +this — or, if need be, without it — he and his Christian wife would go +forth and see if the world was not wide enough to find them a spot on +which they might live without the contempt of those around them. + +<p>Though Nina had quenched her lamp and had gone to bed, it was not late +when Trendellsohn reached his home, and he knew that he should find his +father waiting for him. But his father was not alone. Rebecca Loth was +sitting with the old man, and they had just supped together when Anton +entered the room. Ruth Jacobi was also there, waiting till her friend +should go, before she also went to her bed. + +<p>"How are you, Anton?" said Rebecca, giving her hand to the man she +loved. "It is strange to see you in these days." + +<p>"The strangeness, Rebecca, comes from no fault of my own. Few men, I +fancy, are more constant to their homes than I am." + +<p>"You sleep here and eat here, I daresay." + +<p>"My business lies mostly out, about the town." + +<p>"Have you been about business now, uncle Anton?" said Ruth. + +<p>"Do not ask forward questions, Ruth," said the uncle. "Rebecca, I fear, +teaches you to forget that you are still a child." + +<p>"Do not scold her," said the old man. "She is a good girl." + +<p>"It is Anton that forgets that nature is making Ruth a young woman," +said Rebecca. + +<p>"I do not want to be a young woman a bit before uncle Anton likes it," +said Ruth. "I don't mind waiting ever so long for him. When he is +married he will not care what I am." + +<p>"If that be so, you may be a woman very soon," said Rebecca. + +<p>"That is more than you know," said Anton, turning very sharply on her. +"What do you know of my marriage, or when it will be?" + +<p>"Are you scolding her too?" said the elder Trendellsohn. + +<p>"Nay, father; let him do so," said Rebecca. "He has known me long +enough to scold me if he thinks that I deserve it. You are gentle to me +and spoil me, and it is only well that one among my old friends should +be sincere enough to be ungentle." + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Rebecca, if I have been uncourteous." + +<p>"There can be no pardon where there is no offence." + +<p>"If you are ashamed to hear of your marriage," said the father, "you +should be ashamed to think of it." + +<p>Then there was silence for a few seconds before anyone spoke. The girls +did not dare to speak after words so serious from the father to the +son. It was known to both of them that Anton could hardly bring himself +to bear a rebuke even from his father, and they felt that such a rebuke +as this, given in their presence, would be altogether unendurable. +Every one in the room understood the exact position in which each +stood to the other. That Rebecca would willingly have become Anton's +wife, that she had refused various offers of marriage in order that +ultimately it might be so, was known to Stephen Trendellsohn, and to +Anton himself, and to Ruth Jacobi. There had not been the pretence of +any secret among them in the matter. But the subject was one which +could hardly be discussed by them openly. "Father," said Anton, after a +while, during which the black thunder-cloud which had for an instant +settled on his brow had managed to dispel itself without bursting into +a visible storm — "father, I am neither ashamed to think of my intended +marriage nor to speak of it. There is no question of shame. But it is +unpleasant to make such a subject matter of general conversation when +it is a source of trouble instead of joy among us. I wish I could have +made you happy by my marriage." + +<p>"You will make me very wretched." + +<p>"Then let us not talk about it. It cannot be altered. You would not +have me false to my plighted word?" + +<p>Again there was silence for some minutes, and then Rebecca spoke — the +words coming from her in the lowest possible accents. + +<p>"It can be altered without breach of your plighted word. Ask the young +woman what she herself thinks. You will find that she knows that you +are both wrong." + +<p>"Of course she knows it," said the father. + +<p>"I will ask her nothing of the kind," said the son. + +<p>"It would be of no use," said Ruth. + +<p>After this Rebecca rose to take her leave, saying something of the +falseness of her brother Samuel, who had promised to come for her and +to take her home. "But he is with Miriam Harter," said Rebecca, "and, +of course, he will forget me." + +<p>"I will go home with you," said Anton. + +<p>"Indeed you shall not. Do you think I cannot walk alone through our own +streets in the dark without being afraid?" + +<p>"I am well aware that you are afraid of nothing; but nevertheless, if +you will allow me, I will accompany you." There was no sufficient cause +for her to refuse his company, and the two left the house together. + +<p>As they descended the stairs, Rebecca determined that she would +have the first word in what might now be said between them. She had +suggested that this marriage with the Christian girl might be abandoned +without the disgrace upon Anton of having broken his troth, and she had +thereby laid herself open to a suspicion of having worked for her own +ends — of having done so with unmaidenly eagerness to gratify her own +love. Something on the subject must be said — would be said by him if +not by her — and therefore she would explain herself at once. She spoke +as soon as she found herself by his side in the street. "I regretted +what I said up-stairs, Anton, as soon as the words were out of my +mouth." + +<p>"I do not know that you said anything to regret." + +<p>"I told you that if in truth you thought this marriage to be wrong — " + +<p>"Which I do not." + +<p>"Pardon me, my friend, for a moment. If you had so thought, I said that +there was a mode of escape without falsehood or disgrace. In saying so +I must have seemed to urge you to break away from Nina Balatka." + +<p>"You are all urging me to do that." + +<p>"Coming from the others, such advice cannot even seem to have an +improper motive." Here she paused, feeling the difficulty of her task — +aware that she could not conclude it without an admission which no +woman willingly makes. But she shook away the impediment, bracing +herself to the work, and went on steadily with her speech. "Coming from +me, such motive may be imputed — nay, it must be imputed." + +<p>"No motive is imputed that is not believed by me to be good and healthy +and friendly." + +<p>"Our friends," continued Rebecca, "have wished that you and I should be +husband and wife. That is now impossible." + +<p>"It is impossible — because Nina will be my wife." + +<p>"It is impossible, whether Nina should become your wife or should not +become your wife. I do not say this from any girlish pride. Before I +knew that you loved a Christian woman, I would willingly have been — as +our friends wished. You see I can trust you enough for candour. When +I was young they told me to love you, and I obeyed them. They told +me that I was to be your wife, and I taught myself to be happy in +believing them. I now know that they were wrong, and I will endeavour +to teach myself another happiness." + +<p>"Rebecca, if I have been in fault — " + +<p>"You have never been in fault. You are by nature too stern to fall into +such faults. It has been my misfortune — perhaps rather I should say +my difficulty — that till of late you have given me no sign by which I +could foresee my lot. I was still young, and I still believed what they +told me, even though you did not come to me as lovers come. Now I know +it all; and as any such thoughts — or wishes, if you will — as those I +used to have can never return to me, I may perhaps be felt by you to be +free to use what liberty of counsel old friendship may give me. I know +you will not misunderstand me — and that is all. Do not come further +with me." + +<p>He called to her, but she was gone, escaping from him with quick +running feet through the dark night; and he returned to his father's +house, thinking of the girl that had left him. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XII</h3> +</center> + +<p>Again some days passed by without any meeting between Nina and her +lover, and things were going very badly with the Balatkas in the old +house. The money that had come from the jeweller was not indeed all +expended, but Nina looked upon it as her last resource, till marriage +should come to relieve her; and the time of her marriage seemed to be +as far from her as ever. So the kreutzers were husbanded as only a +woman can husband them, and new attempts were made to reduce the little +expenses of the little household. + +<p>"Souchey, you had better go. You had indeed," said Nina. "We cannot +feed you." Now Souchey had himself spoken of leaving them some days +since, urged to do so by his Christian indignation at the abominable +betrothal of his mistress. "You said the other day that you would do +so, and it will be better." + +<p>"But I shall not." + +<p>"Then you will be starved." + +<p>"I am starved already, and it cannot be worse. I dined yesterday on +what they threw out to the dogs in the meat-market." + +<p>"And where will you dine to-day?" + +<p>"Ah, I shall dine better to-day. I shall get a meal in the Windberg-gasse." + +<p>"What! at my aunt's house?" + +<p>"Yes; at your aunt's house. They live well there, even in the kitchen. +Lotta will have for me some hot soup, a mess of cabbage, and a sausage. +I wish I could bring it away from your aunt's house to the old man and +yourself." + +<p>"I would sooner fall in the gutter than eat my aunt's meat." + +<p>"That is all very fine for you, but I am not going to marry a Jewess. +Why should I quarrel with your aunt, or with Lotta Luxa? If you would +give up the Jew, Nina, your aunt's house would be open to you; yes — and +Ziska's house." + +<p>"I will not give up the Jew," said Nina, with flashing eyes. + +<p>"I suppose not. But what will you do when he gives you up? What if +Ziska then should not be so forward?" + +<p>"Of all those who are my enemies, and whom I hate because they are so +cruel, I hate Ziska the worst. Go and tell him so, since you are +becoming one of them. In doing so much you cannot at any rate do me +harm." + +<p>Then she took herself off, forgetting in her angry spirit the +prudential motives which had induced her to begin the conversation with +Souchey. But Souchey, though he was going to Madame Zamenoy's house to +get his dinner, and was looking forward with much eagerness to the mess +of hot cabbage and the cold sausage, had by no means become "one of +them" in the Windberg-gasse. He had had more than one interview of late +with Lotta Luxa, and had perceived that something was going on, of +which he much desired to be at the bottom. Lotta had some scheme, which +she was half willing and half unwilling to reveal to him, by which she +hoped to prevent the threatened marriage between Nina and the Jew. Now +Souchey was well enough inclined to take a part in such a scheme — +provided it did not in any way make him a party with the Zamenoys in +things general against the Balatkas. It was his duty as a Christian — +though he himself was rather slack in the performance of his own +religious duties — to put a stop to this horrible marriage if he could +do so; but it behoved him to be true to his master and mistress, and +especially true to them in opposition to the Zamenoys. He had in some +sort been carrying on a losing battle against the Zamenoys all his +life, and had some of the feelings of a martyr, telling himself that +he had lost a rich wife by doing so. He would go on this occasion and +eat his dinner and be very confidential with Lotta; but he would be +very discreet, would learn more than he told, and, above all, would not +betray his master or mistress. + +<p>Soon after he was gone, Anton Trendellsohn came over to the Kleinseite, +and, ringing at the bell of the house, received admission from Nina +herself. "What! you, Anton?" she said, almost jumping into his arms, +and then restraining herself. "Will you come up? It is so long since I +have seen you." + +<p>"Yes — it is long. I hope the time is soon coming when there shall be no +more of such separation." + +<p>"Is it? Is it indeed?" + +<p>"I trust it is." + +<p>"I suppose as a maiden I ought to be coy, and say that I would prefer +to wait; but, dearest love, sorrow and trouble have banished all that. +You will not love me less because I tell you that I count the minutes +till I may be your wife." + +<p>"No; I do not love you less on that account. I would have you be true +and faithful in all things." + +<p>Though the words themselves were assuring, there was something in the +tone of his voice which repressed her. "To you I am true and faithful +in all things; as faithful as though you were already my husband. What +were you saying of a time that is soon coming?" + +<p>He did not answer her question, but turned the subject away into +another channel. "I have brought something for you," he said — something +which I hope you will be glad to have." + +<p>"Is it a present? she asked. As yet he had never given her anything +that she could call a gift, and it was to her almost a matter of pride +that she had taken nothing from her Jew lover, and that she would take +nothing till it should be her right to take everything. + +<p>"Hardly a present; but you shall look at it as you will. You remember +Rapinsky, do you not?" Now Rapinsky was the jeweller in the Grosser +Ring, and Nina, though she well remembered the man and the shop, did +not at the moment remember the name. "You will not have forgotten this +at any rate," said Trendellsohn, bringing the necklace from out of his +pocket. + +<p>"How did you get it?" said Nina, not putting out her hand to take it, +but looking at it as it lay upon the table. + +<p>"I thought you would be glad to have it back again." + +<p>"I should be glad if — " + +<p>"If what?" Will it be less welcome because it comes through my hands?" + +<p>"The man lent me money upon it, and you must have paid the money." + +<p>"What if I have? I like your pride, Nina; but be not too proud. Of +course I have paid the money. I know Rapinsky, who deals with us often. +I went to him after you spoke to me, and got it back again. There is +your mother's necklace." + +<p>"I am sorry for this, Anton." + +<p>"Why sorry?" + +<p>"We are so poor that I shall be driven to take it elsewhere again. I +cannot keep such a thing in the house while father wants. But better he +should want than — " + +<p>"Than what, Nina?" + +<p>"There would be something like cheating in borrowing money on the same +thing twice." + +<p>"Then put it by, and I will be your lender." + +<p>"No; I will not borrow from you. You are the only one in the world that +I could never repay. I cannot borrow from you. Keep this thing, and if +I am ever your wife, then you shall give it me." + +<p>"If you are ever my wife?" + +<p>"Is there no room for such an if? I hope there is not, Anton. I wish it +were as certain as the sun's rising. But people around us are so cruel! +It seems, sometimes, as though the world were against us. And then you, +yourself — " + +<p>"What of me myself, Nina?" + +<p>"I do not think you trust me altogether; and unless you trust me, I +know you will not make me your wife." + +<p>"That is certain; and yet I do not doubt that you will be my wife." + +<p>"But do you trust me? Do you believe in your heart of hearts that I +know nothing of that paper for which you are searching?" She paused +for a reply, but he did not at once make any. "Tell me," she went +on saying, with energy, "are you sure that I am true to you in that +matter, as in all others? Though I were starving — and it is nearly so +with me already — and though I loved you beyond even all heaven, as I +do, I do — I would not become your wife if you doubted me in any tittle. +Say that you doubt me, and then it shall be all over." Still he did not +speak. "Rebecca Loth will be a fitter wife for you than I can be," said +Nina. + +<p>"If you are not my wife, I shall never have a wife," said Trendellsohn. + +<p>In her ecstasy of delight, as she heard these words, she took up his +hand and kissed it; but she dropped it again, as she remembered that +she had not yet received the assurance that she needed. "But you do +believe me about this horrid paper?" + +<p>It was necessary that she should be made to go again through the fire. +In deliberate reflection he had made himself aware that such necessity +still existed. It might be that she had some inner reserve as to duty +towards her father. There was, possibly, some reason which he could +not fathom why she should still keep something back from him in this +matter. He did not, in truth, think that it was so, but there was the +chance. There was the chance, and he could not bear to be deceived. He +felt assured that Ziska Zamenoy and Lotta Luxa believed that this deed +was in Nina's keeping. Indeed, he was assured that all the household of +the Zamenoys so believed. "If there be a God above us, it is there," +Lotta had said, crossing herself. He did not think it was there; he +thought that Lotta was wrong, and that all the Zamenoys were wrong, by +some mistake which he could not fathom; but still there was the chance, +and Nina must be made to bear this additional calamity. + +<p>"Do you think it impossible," said he, "that you should have it among +your own things?" + +<p>"What! without knowing that I have it?" she asked. + +<p>"It may have come to you with other papers," he said, "and you may not +quite have understood its nature." + +<p>"There, in that desk, is every paper that I have in the world. You +can look if you suspect me. But I shall not easily forgive you for +looking." Then she threw down the key of her desk upon the table. He +took it up and fingered it, but did not move towards the desk. "The +greatest treasure there," she said, "are scraps of your own, which I +have been a fool to value, as they have come from a man who does not +trust me." + +<p>He knew that it would be useless for him to open the desk. If she were +secreting anything from him, she was not hiding it there. "Might it not +possibly be among your clothes?" he asked. + +<p>"I have no clothes," she answered, and then strode off across the wide +room towards the door of her father's apartment. But after she had +grasped the handle of the door, she turned again upon her lover. "It +may, however, be well that you should search my chamber and my bed. If +you will come with me, I will show you the door. You will find it to be +a sorry place for one who was your affianced bride." + +<p>"Who <i>is</i> my affianced bride," said Trendellsohn. + +<p>"No, sir! — who was, but is so no longer. You will have to ask my +pardon, at my feet, before I will let you speak to me again as my +lover. Go and search. Look for your deed — and then you shall see that +I will tear out my own heart rather than submit to the ill-usage of +distrust from one who owes me so much faith as you do." + +<p>"Nina" he said. + +<p>"Well, sir." + +<p>"I do trust you." + +<p>"Yes — with a half trust — with one eye closed, while the other is +watching me. You think you have so conquered me that I will be good to +you, and yet cannot keep yourself from listening to those who whisper +that I am bad to you. Sir, I fear they have been right when they told +me that a Jew's nature would surely shock me at last." + +<p>The dark frowning cloud, which she had so often observed with fear, +came upon his brow; but she did not fear him now. "And do you too taunt +me with my religion?" he said. + +<p>"No, not so — not with your religion, Anton; but with your nature." + +<p>"And how can I help my nature?" + +<p>"I suppose you cannot help it, and I am wrong to taunt you. I should +not have taunted you. I should only have said that I will not endure +the suspicion either of a Christian or of a Jew." + +<p>He came up to her now, and put out his arm as though he were about to +embrace her. "No," she said; "not again, till you have asked my pardon +for distrusting me, and have given me your solemn word that you +distrust me no longer." + +<p>He paused a moment in doubt, then put his hat on his head and prepared +to leave her. She had behaved very well, but still he would not be weak +enough to yield to her in everything at once. As to opening her desk, +or going up-stairs into her room, that he felt to be quite impossible. +Even his nature did not admit of that. But neither did his nature allow +him to ask her pardon and to own that he had been wrong. She had said +that he must implore her forgiveness at her feet. One word, however, +one look, would have sufficed. But that word and that look were, at the +present moment, out of his power. "Good-bye, Nina," he said. "It is +best that I should leave you now." + +<p>"By far the best; and you will take the necklace with you, if you +please." + +<p>"No; I will leave that. I cannot keep a trinket that was your +mother's." + +<p>"Take it, then, to the jeweller's, and get back your money. It shall +not be left here. I will have nothing from your hands." He was so far +cowed by her manner that he took up the necklace and left the house, +and Nina was once more alone. + +<p>What they had told her of her lover was after all true. That was the +first idea that occurred to her as she sat in her chair, stunned by +the sorrow that had come upon her. They had dinned into her ears their +accusations, not against the man himself, but against the tribe to +which he belonged, telling her that a Jew was, of his very nature, +suspicious, greedy, and false. She had perceived early in her +acquaintance with Anton Trendellsohn that he was clever, ambitious, +gifted with the power of thinking as none others whom she knew could +think; and that he had words at his command, and was brave, and was +endowed with a certain nobility of disposition which prompted him to +wish for great results rather than for small advantages. All this had +conquered her, and had made her resolve to think that a Jew could be as +good as a Christian. But now, when the trial of the man had in truth +come, she found that those around her had been right in what they had +said. How base must be the nature which could prompt a man to suspect +a girl who had been true to him as Nina had been true to her lover! + +<p>She would never see him again — never! He had left the room without even +answering the question which she had asked him. He would not even say +that he trusted her. It was manifest that he did not trust her, and +that he believed at this moment that she was endeavouring to rob him in +this matter of the deed. He had asked her if she had it in her desk or +among her clothes, and her very soul revolted from the suspicion so +implied. She would never speak to him again. It was all over. No; she +would never willingly speak to him again. + +<p>But what would she do? For a few minutes she fell back, as is so +natural with mortals in trouble, upon that religion which she had been +so willing to outrage by marrying the Jew. She went to a little drawer +and took out a string of beads which had lain there unused since she +had been made to believe that the Virgin and the saints would not +permit her marriage with Anton Trendellsohn. She took out the beads — +but she did not use them. She passed no berries through her fingers to +check the number of prayers said, for she found herself unable to say +any prayer at all. If he would come back to her, and ask her pardon — +ask it in truth at her feet — she would still forgive him, regardless +of the Virgin and the saints. And if he did not come back, what was +the fate that Lotta Luxa had predicted for her, and to which she had +acknowledged to herself that she would be driven to submit? In either +case how could she again come to terms with St John and St Nicholas? +And how was she to live? Should she lose her lover, as she now told +herself would certainly be her fate, what possibility of life was left +to her? From day to day and from week to week she had put off to a +future hour any definite consideration of what she and her father +should do in their poverty, believing that it might be postponed till +her marriage would make all things easy. Her future mode of living +had often been discussed between her and her lover, and she had been +candid enough in explaining to him that she could not leave her father +desolate. He had always replied that his wife's father should want for +nothing, and she had been delighted to think that she could with joy +accept that from her husband which nothing would induce her to accept +from her lover. This thought had sufficed to comfort her, as the evil +of absolute destitution was close upon her. Surely the day of her +marriage would come soon. + +<p>But now it seemed to her to be certain that the day of her marriage +would never come. All those expectations must be banished, and she must +look elsewhere — if elsewhere there might be any relief. She knew well +that if she would separate herself from the Jew, the pocket of her aunt +would be opened to relieve the distress of her father — would be opened +so far as to save the old man from perishing of want. Aunt Sophie, if +duly invoked, would not see her sister's husband die of starvation. +Nay, aunt Sophie would doubtless so far stretch her Christian charity +as to see that her niece was in some way fed, if that niece would be +duly obedient. Further still, aunt Sophie would accept her niece as +the very daughter of her house, as the rising mistress of her own +establishment, if that niece would only consent to love her son. Ziska +was there as a husband in Anton's place, if Ziska might only gain +acceptance. + +<p>But Nina, as she rose from her chair and walked backwards and forwards +through her chamber, telling herself all these things, clenched her +fist, and stamped her foot, as she swore to herself that she would +dare all that the saints could do to her, that she would face all the +terrors of the black dark river, before she would succumb to her cousin +Ziska. As she worked herself into wrath, thinking now of the man she +loved, and then of the man she did not love, she thought that she could +willingly perish — if it were not that her father lay there so old +and so helpless. Gradually, as she magnified to herself the terrible +distresses of her heart, the agony of her yearning love for a man who, +though he loved her, was so unworthy of her perfect faith, she began to +think that it would be well to be carried down by the quick, eternal, +almighty stream beyond the reach of the sorrow which encompassed her. +When her father should leave her she would be all alone — alone in the +world, without a friend to regard her, or one living human being on +whom she, a girl, might rely for protection, shelter, or even for a +morsel of bread. Would St Nicholas cover her from the contumely of the +world, or would St John of the Bridges feed her? Did she in her heart +of hearts believe that even the Virgin would assist her in such a +strait? No; she had no such belief. It might be that such real belief +had never been hers. She hardly knew. But she did know that now, in the +hour of her deep trouble, she could not say her prayers and tell her +beads, and trust valiantly that the goodness of heaven would suffice to +her in her need. + +<p>In the mean time Souchey had gone off to the Windberg-gasse, and had +gladdened himself with the soup, with the hot mess of cabbage and the +sausage, supplied by Madame Zamenoy's hospitality. The joys of such a +moment are unknown to any but those who, like Souchey, have been driven +by circumstances to sit at tables very ill supplied. On the previous +day he had fed upon offal thrown away from a butcher's stall, and habit +had made such feeding not unfamiliar to him. As he walked from the +Kleinseite through the Old Town to Madame Zamenoy's bright-looking +house in the New Town, he had comforted himself greatly with thoughts +of the coming feast. The representation which his imagination made to +him of the banquet sufficed to produce happiness, and he went along +hardly envying any man. His propensities at the moment were the +propensities of a beast. And yet he was submitting himself to the +terrible poverty which made so small a matter now a matter of joy to +him, because there was a something of nobility within him which made +him true to the master who had been true to him, when they had both +been young together. Even now he resolved, as he sharpened his teeth, +that through all the soup and all the sausage he would be true to the +Balatkas. He would be true even to Nina Balatka — though he recognised +it as a paramount duty to do all in his power to save her from the Jew. + +<p>He was seated at the table in the kitchen almost as soon as he had +entered the house in the Windberg-gasse, and found his plate full +before him. Lotta had felt that there was no need of the delicacy of +compliment in feeding a man who was so undoubtedly hungry, and she had +therefore bade him at once fall to. "A hearty meal is a thing you are +not used to," she had said, "and it will do your old bones a deal of +good." The address was not complimentary, especially as coming from a +lady in regard to whom he entertained tender feelings; but Souchey +forgave the something of coarse familiarity which the words displayed, +and, seating himself on the stool before the victuals, gave play to the +feelings of the moment. "There's no one to measure what's left of the +sausage," said Lotta, instigating him to new feats. + +<p>"Ain't there now?" said Souchey, responding to the sound of the +trumpet. "I always thought she had the devil's own eye in looking after +what was used in the kitchen." + +<p>"The devil himself winks sometimes," said Lotta, cutting another +half-inch off from the unconsumed fragment, and picking the skin from the +meat with her own fair fingers. Hitherto Souchey had been regardless of +any such niceness in his eating, the skin having gone with the rest; +but now he thought that the absence of the outside covering and the +touch of Lotta's fingers were grateful to his appetite. + +<p>"Souchey," said Lotta, when he had altogether done, and had turned his +stool round to the kitchen fire, "where do you think Nina would go if +she were to marry — a Jew?" There was an abrupt solemnity in the manner +of the question which at first baffled the man, whose breath was heavy +with the comfortable repletion which had been bestowed upon him. + +<p>"Where would she go to?" he said, repeating Lotta's words. + +<p>"Yes, Souchey, where would she go to? Where would be her eternal home? +What would become of her soul? Do you know that not a priest in Prague +would give her absolution though she were on her dying bed? Oh, holy +Mary, it's a terrible thing to think of! It's bad enough for the old +man and her to be there day after day without a morsel to eat; and I +suppose if it were not for Anton Trendellsohn it would be bad enough +with them — " + +<p>"Not a gulden, then, has Nina ever taken from the Jew — nor the value of +a gulden, as far as I can judge between them." + +<p>"What matters that, Souchey? Is she not engaged to him as his wife? Can +anything in the world be so dreadful? Don't you know she'll be — damned +for ever and ever?" Lotta, as she uttered the terrible words, brought +her face close to Souchey's, looking into his eyes with a fierce glare. +Souchey shook his head sorrowfully, owning thereby that his knowledge +in the matter of religion did not go to the point indicated by Lotta +Luxa. "And wouldn't anything, then, be a good deed that would prevent +that?" + +<p>"It's the priests that should do it among them." + +<p>"But the priests are not the men they used to be, Souchey. And it is +not exactly their fault neither. There are so many folks about in these +days who care nothing who goes to glory and who does not, and they are +too many for the priests." + +<p>"If the priests can't fight their own battle, I can't fight it for +them," said Souchey. + +<p>"But for the old family, Souchey, that you have known so long! Look +here; you and I between us can prevent it." + +<p>"And how is it to be done?" + +<p>"Ah! that's the question. If I felt that I was talking to a real +Christian that had a care for the poor girl's soul, I would tell you in +a moment." + +<p>"So I am; only her soul isn't my business." + +<p>"Then I cannot tell you this. I can't do it unless you acknowledge that +her welfare as a Christian is the business of us all. Fancy, Souchey, +your mistress married to a filthy Jew!" + +<p>"For the matter of that, he isn't so filthy neither." + +<p>"An abominable Jew! But, Souchey, she will never fall out with him. We +must contrive that he shall quarrel with her. If she had a thing about +her that he did not want her to have, couldn't you contrive that he +should know it?" + +<p>"What sort of thing? Do you mean another lover, like?" + +<p>"No, you gander. If there was anything of that sort I could manage it +myself. But if she had a thing locked up — away from him, couldn't you +manage to show it to him? He's very generous in rewarding, you know." + +<p>"I don't want to have anything to do with it," said Souchey, getting up +from his stool and preparing to take his departure. Though he had been +so keen after the sausage, he was above taking a bribe in such a matter +as this. + +<p>"Stop, Souchey, stop. I didn't think that I should ever have to ask +anything of you in vain." + +<p>Then she put her face very close to his, so that her lips touched his +ear, and she laid her hand heavily upon his arm, and she was very +confidential. Souchey listened to the whisper till his face grew longer +and longer. "'Tis for her soul," said Lotta — "for her poor soul's sake. +When you can save her by raising your hand, would you let her be damned +for ever?" + +<p>But she could exact no promise from Souchey except that he would keep +faith with her, and that he would consider deeply the proposal made to +him. Then there was a tender farewell between them, and Souchey +returned to the Kleinseite. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XIII</h3> +</center> + +<p>For two days after this Nina heard nothing from the Jews' quarter, and +in her terrible distress her heart almost became softened towards the +man who had so deeply offended her. She began to tell herself, in the +weariness of her sorrow, that men were different from women, and, of +their nature, more suspicious; that no woman had a right to expect +every virtue in her lover, and that no woman had less of such right +than she herself, who had so little to give in return for all that +Anton proposed to bestow upon her. She began to think that she could +forgive him, even for his suspicion, if he would only come to be +forgiven. But he came not, and it was only too plain to her that she +could not be the first to go to him after what had passed between them. +And then there fell another crushing sorrow upon her. Her father was +ill — so ill that he was like to die. The doctor came to him — some son +of Galen who had known the merchant in his prosperity — and, with kind +assurances, told Nina that her father, though he could pay nothing, +should have whatever assistance medical attention could give him; but +he said, at the same time, that medical attention could give no aid +that would be of permanent service. The light had burned down in the +socket, and must go out. The doctor took Nina by the hand, and put his +own hand upon her soft tresses, and spoke kind words to console her. +And then he said that the sick man ought to take a few glasses of wine +every day; and as he was going away, turned back again, and promised +to send the wine from his own house. Nina thanked him, and plucked up +something of her old spirit during his presence, and spoke to him as +though she had no other care than that of her father's health; but as +soon as the doctor was gone she thought again of her Jew lover. That +her father should die was a great grief. But when she should be alone +in the old house, with the corpse lying on the bed, would Anton +Trendellsohn come to her then? + +<p>He did not come to her now, though he knew of her father's illness. She +sent Souchey to the Jews' quarter to tell the sad news — not to him, but +to old Trendellsohn. "For the sake of the property it is right that he +should know," Nina said to herself, excusing to herself on this plea +her weakness in sending any message to the house of Anton Trendellsohn +till he should have come and asked her pardon. But even after this he +came not. She listened to every footstep that entered the courtyard. +She could not keep herself from going to the window, and from looking +into the square. Surely now, in her deep sorrow, in her solitude, he +would come to her. He would come and say one word — that he did trust +her, that he would trust her! But no; he came not at all; and the hours +of the day and the night followed slowly and surely upon each other, as +she sat by her father's bed watching the last quiver of the light in +the socket. + +<p>But though Trendellsohn did not come himself, there came to her a +messenger from the Jew's house — a messenger from the Jew's house, but +not a messenger from Anton Trendellsohn. "Here is a girl from the — +Jew," said Souchey, whispering into her ear as she sat at her father's +bedside — "one of themselves. Shall I tell her to go away, because he +is so ill?" And Souchey pointed to his master's head on the pillow. +"She has got a basket, but she can leave that." + +<p>Nina, however, was by no means inclined to send the Jewess away, +rightly guessing that the stranger was her friend Ruth. "Stop here, +Souchey, and I will go to her," Nina said. "Do not leave him till I +return. I will not be long." She would not have let a dog go without a +word that had come from Anton's house or from Anton's presence. Perhaps +he had written to her. If there were but a line to say, "Pardon me; I +was wrong," everything might yet be right. But Ruth Jacobi was the +bearer of no note from Anton, nor indeed had she come on her present +message with her uncle's knowledge. She had put a heavy basket on the +table, and now, running forward, took Nina by the hands, and kissed +her. + +<p>"We have been so sorry, all of us, to hear of your father's illness," +said Ruth. + +<p>"Father is very ill," said Nina. "He is dying." + +<p>"Nay, Nina; it may be that he is not dying. Life and death both are in +the hands of God." + +<p>"Yes; it is in God's hands of course; but the doctor says that he will +die." + +<p>"The doctors have no right to speak in that way," said Ruth, "for how +can they know God's pleasure? It may be that he will recover." + +<p>"Yes; it may be," said Nina. "It is good of you to come to me, Ruth. +I am so glad you have come. Have you any — any — message?" If he would +only ask to be forgiven through Ruth, or even if he had sent a word +that might be taken to show that he wished to be forgiven, it should +suffice. + +<p>"I have — brought — a few things in a basket," said Ruth, almost +apologetically. + +<p>Then Nina lifted the basket. "You did not surely carry this through the +streets?" + +<p>"I had Shadrach, our boy, with me. He carried it. It is not from me, +exactly; though I have been so glad to come with it." + +<p>"And who sent it?" said Nina, quickly, with her fingers trembling on +its lid. If Anton had thought to send anything to her, that anything +should suffice. + +<p>"It was Rebecca Loth who thought of it, and who asked me to come," said +Ruth. + +<p>Then Nina drew back her fingers as though they were burned, and walked +away from the table with quick angry steps. "Why should Rebecca Loth +send anything to me?" she said. "What is there in the basket?" + +<p>"She has written a little line. It is at the top. But she has asked me +to say — " + +<p>"What has she asked you to say? Why should she say anything to me?" + +<p>"Nay, Nina; she is very good, and she loves you." + +<p>"I do not want her love." + +<p>"I am to say to you that she has heard of your distress, and she hopes +that a girl like you will let a girl like her do what she can to +comfort you." + +<p>"She cannot comfort me." + +<p>"She bade me say that if she were ill or in sorrow, there is no hand +from which she would so gladly take comfort as from yours — for the +sake, she said, of a mutual friend." + +<p>"I have no — friend," said Nina. + +<p>"Oh, Nina, am not I your friend? Do not I love you?" + +<p>"I do not know. If you do love me now, you must cease to love me. You +are a Jewess, and I am a Christian, and we must live apart. You, at +least, must live. I wish you would tell the boy that he may take back +the basket." + +<p>"There are things in it for your father, Nina; and, Nina, surely you +will read Rebecca's note?" + +<p>Then Ruth went to the basket, and from the top she took out Rebecca's +letter, and gave it to Nina, and Nina read it. It was as follows: + +<br> +<br> + <table> + <tr><td width="7%"></td><td align="left"> + <i> + I shall always regard you as very dear to me, because our hearts + have been turned in the same way. It may not be perhaps that we + shall know each other much at first; but I hope the days may come + when we shall be much older than we are now, and that then we may + meet and be able to talk of what has passed without pain. I do not + know why a Jewess and a Christian woman should not be friends. + <br><br> + </i> + </td> + <tr><td></td><td> + <i> + I have sent a few things which may perhaps be of comfort to your + father. In pity to me do not refuse them. They are such as one + woman should send to another. And I have added a little trifle + for your own use. At the present moment you are poor as to money, + though so rich in the gifts which make men love. On my knees before + you I ask you to accept from my hand what I send, and to think of + me as one who would serve you in more things if it were possible. + Yours, if you will let me, affectionately, + </i> + </td> + <tr><td></td><td align="right"><i>REBECCA.</i></td> + <tr><td></td><td align="left"> + <i> + I see when I look at them that the shoes will be too big. + </i> + </td> + </table> + +<p>She stood for a while apart from Ruth, with the open note in her hand, +thinking whether or no she would accept the gifts which had been sent. +The words which Rebecca had written had softened her heart, especially +those in which the Jewess had spoken openly to her of her poverty. "At +the present moment you are poor as to money," the girl had said, and +had said it as though such poverty were, after all, but a small thing +in their relative positions one to another. That Nina should be loved, +and Rebecca not loved, was a much greater thing. For her father's sake +she would take the things sent — and for Rebecca's sake. She would take +even the shoes, which she wanted so sorely. She remembered well, as she +read the last word, how, when Rebecca had been with her, she herself +had pointed to the poor broken slippers which she wore, not meaning to +excite such compassion as had now been shown. Yes, she would accept it +all — as one woman should take such things from another. + +<p>"You will not make Shadrach carry them back?" said Ruth, imploring her. + +<p>"But he — has he sent nothing? — not a word?" She would have thought +herself to be utterly incapable, before Ruth had come, of showing so +much weakness; but her reserve gave way as she admitted in her own +heart the kindness of Rebecca, and she became conquered and humbled. +She was so terribly in want of his love at this moment! "And has he +sent no word of a message to me?" + +<p>"I did not tell him that I was coming." + +<p>But he knows — he knows that father is so ill." + +<p>"Yes; I suppose he has heard that, because Souchey came to the house. +But he has been out of temper with us all, and unhappy, for some days +past. I know that he is unhappy when he is so harsh with us." + +<p>"And what has made him unhappy? + +<p>"Nay, I cannot tell you that. I thought perhaps it was because you did +not come to him. You used to come and see us at our house." + +<p>Dear Ruth! Dearest Ruth, for saying such dear words! She had done more +than Rebecca by the sweetness of the suggestion. If it were really the +case that he were unhappy because they had parted from each other in +anger, no further forgiveness would be necessary. + +<p>"But how can I come, Ruth?" she said. "It is he that should come to +me." + +<p>"You used to come." + +<p>"Ah, yes. I came first with messages from father, and then because I +loved to hear him talk to me. I do not mind telling you, Ruth, now. And +then I came because — because he said I was to be his wife. I thought +that if I was to be his wife it could not be wrong that I should go to +his father's house. But now that so many people know it — that they talk +about it so much — I cannot go to him now." + +<p>"But you are not ashamed of being engaged to him — because he is a Jew?" + +<p>"No," said Nina, raising herself to her full height; "I am not ashamed +of him. I am proud of him. To my thinking there is no man like him. +Compare him and Ziska, and Ziska becomes hardly a man at all. I am very +proud to think that he has chosen me." + +<p>"That is well spoken, and I shall tell him." + +<p>"No, you must not tell him, Ruth. Remember that I talk to you as a +friend, and not as a child." + +<p>"But I will tell him, because then his brow will become smooth, and he +will be happy. He likes to think that people know him to be clever; and +he will be glad to be told that you understand him." + +<p>"I think him greater and better than all men; but, Ruth, you must not +tell him what I say — not now, at least — for a reason." + +<p>"What reason, Nina?" + +<p>"Well; I will tell you, though I would not tell anyone else in the +world. When we parted last I was angry with him — very angry with him." + +<p>"He had been scolding you, perhaps?" + +<p>"I should not mind that — not in the least. He has a right to scold me." + +<p>"He has a right to scold me, I suppose; but I mind it very much." + +<p>"But he has no right to distrust me, Ruth. I wish he could see my heart +and all my mind, and know every thought in my breast, and then he would +feel that he could trust me. I would not deceive him by a word or a +look for all the world. He does not know how true I am to him, and that +kills me." + +<p>"I will tell him everything." + +<p>"No, Ruth; tell him nothing. If he cannot find it out without being +told, telling will do no good. If you thought a person was a thief, +would you change your mind because the person told you he was honest? +He must find it out for himself if he is ever to know it." + +<p>When Ruth was gone, Nina knew that she had been comforted. To have +spoken about her lover was in itself much; and to have spoken about him +as she had done seemed almost to have brought him once more near to +her. Ruth had declared that Anton was sad, and had suggested to Nina +that the cause of his sadness was the same as her own. There could not +but be comfort in this. If he really wished to see her, would he not +come over to the Kleinseite? There could be no reason why he should not +visit the girl he intended to marry, and whom he was longing to see. Of +course he had business which must occupy his time. He could not give up +every moment to thoughts of love, as she could do. She told herself all +this, and once more endeavoured to be comforted. + +<p>And then she unpacked the basket. There were fresh eggs, and a quantity +of jelly, and some soup in a jug ready to be made hot, and such +delicacies as invalids will eat when their appetites will serve for +nothing else. And Nina, as she took these things out, thought only of +her father. She took them as coming for him altogether, without any +reference to her own use. But at the bottom of the basket there were +stockings, and a handkerchief or two, and a petticoat, and a pair of +shoes. Should she throw them out among the ashes behind the kitchen, or +should she press them to her bosom as treasures to be loved as long as +a single thread of them might hang together? She had taken such alms +before — from her aunt Sophie — taking them in bitterness of spirit, and +wearing them as though they were made of sackcloth, very sore to the +skin. The acceptance of such things, even from her aunt, had been gall +to her; but, in the old days, no idea of refusing them had come to her. +Of course she must submit herself to her aunt's charity, because of her +father's poverty. And garments had come to her which were old and worn, +bearing unmistakable signs of Lotta's coarse but reparative energies — +raiment against which her feminine niceness would have rebelled, had it +been possible for her, in her misfortunes, to indulge her feminine +niceness. + +<p>But there was a sweet scent of last summer's roses on the things which +now lay in her lap, and each article was of the best; and, though each +had been worn, they were all such as one girl would lend to another who +was her dearest friend — who was to be made welcome to the wardrobe as +though it were her own. There was something of the tenderness of love +in the very folding, and respect as well as friendship in the care of +the packing. Her aunt's left-off clothes had come to her in a big roll, +fastened with a corking-pin. But Rebecca, with delicate fingers, had +made each article of her tribute to look pretty, as though for the +dress of such a one as Nina prettiness and care must always be needed. +It was not possible for her to refuse a present sent to her with so +many signs of tenderness. + +<p>And then she tried on the shoes. Of all the things she needed these +were the most necessary. At her first glance she thought that they were +new; but she perceived that they had been worn, and she liked them the +better on that account. She put her feet into them and found that they +were in truth a little too large for her. And this, even this, tended +in some sort to gratify her feelings and soothe the asperity of her +grief. "It is only a quarter of a size," she said to herself, as she +held up her dress that she might look at her feet. And thus she +resolved that she would accept her rival's kindness. + +<p>On the following morning the priest came — that Father Jerome whom she +had known as a child, and from whom she had been unable to obtain +ghostly comfort since she had come in contact with the Jew. Her aunt +and her father, Souchey and Lotta Luxa, had all threatened her with +Father Jerome; and when it had become manifest to her that it would be +necessary that the priest should visit her father in his extremity, she +had at first thought that it would be well for her to hide herself. +But the cowardice of this had appeared to her to be mean, and she had +resolved that she would meet her old friend at her father's bedside. +After all, what would his bitterest words be to her after such words +as she had endured from her lover? + +<p>Father Jerome came, and she received him in the parlour. She received +him with downcast eyes and a demeanour of humility, though she was +resolved to flare up against him if he should attack her too cruelly. +But the man was as mild to her and as kind as ever he had been in her +childhood, when he would kiss her, and call her his little nun, and +tell her that if she would be a good girl she should always have a +white dress and roses at the festival of St Nicholas. He put his hand +on her head and blessed her, and did not seem to have any abhorrence of +her because she was going to marry a Jew. And yet he knew it. + +<p>He asked a few words as to her father, who was indeed better on this +morning than he had been for the last few days, and then he passed on +into the sick man's room. And there, after a few faintest words of +confession from the sick man, Nina knelt by her father's bedside, while +the priest prayed for them both, and forgave the sinner his sins, and +prepared him for his further journey with such preparation as the +extreme unction of his Church would afford. + +<p>When the prayer and the ceremony were over, and the viaticum had been +duly administered, the priest returned into the parlour, and Nina +followed him. "He is stronger than I had expected to find him," said +Father Jerome. + +<p>"He has rallied a little, Father, because you were coming. You may be +sure that he is very ill." + +<p>"I know that he is very ill, but I think that he may still last some +days. Should it be so, I will come again." After that Nina thought that +the priest would have gone; but he paused for a few moments as though +hesitating, and then spoke again, putting down his hat, which he had +taken up. "But what is all this that I hear about you, Nina?" + +<p>"All what?" said Nina, blushing. + +<p>"They tell me that you have engaged yourself to marry Anton +Trendellsohn, the Jew." + +<p>She stood before him confessing her guilt by her silence. "Is it true, +Nina?" he asked. + +<p>"It is true." + +<p>"I am very sorry for that — very sorry. Could you not bring yourself to +love some Christian youth, rather than a Jew? Would it not be better, +do you think, to do so — for your soul's sake?" + +<p>"It is too late now, Father." + +<p>"Too late! No; it can never be too late to repent of evil." + +<p>"But why should it be evil, Father Jerome? It is permitted; is it not?" + +<p>"The law permits it, certainly." + +<p>"And when I am a Jew's wife, may I not go to mass?" + +<p>"Yes; you may go to mass. Who can hinder you?" + +<p>"And if I pray devoutly, will not the saints hear me?" + +<p>"It is not for me to limit their mercy. I think that they will hear all +prayers that are addressed to them with faith and humility." + +<p>"And you, Father, will you not give me absolution if I am a Jew's +wife?" + +<p>"I would ten times sooner give it you as the wife of a Christian, Nina. +My absolution would be nothing to you, Nina, if the while you had a +deep sin upon your conscience." Then the priest went, being unwilling +to endure further questioning, and Nina seated herself in a glow of +triumph. And this was the worst that she would have to endure from the +Church after all her aunt's threatenings — after Lotta's bitter words, +and the reproaches of all around her! Father Jerome — even Father +Jerome himself, who was known to be the strictest priest on that side +of the river in opposing the iniquities of his flock — did not take upon +himself to say that her case as a Christian would be hopeless, were she +to marry the Jew! After that she went to the drawer in her bedroom, and +restored the picture of the Virgin to its place. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XIV</h3> +</center> + +<p>Father Jerome had been very mild with Nina, but his mildness did not +produce any corresponding feelings of gentleness in the breasts of +Nina's relatives in the Windberg-gasse. Indeed, it had the contrary +effect of instigating Madame Zamenoy and Lotta Luxa to new exertions. +Nina, in her triumph, could not restrain herself from telling Souchey +that Father Jerome did not by any means think so badly of her as did +the others; and Souchey, partly in defence of Nina, and partly in +quest of further sound information on the knotty religious difficulty +involved, repeated it all to Lotta. Among them they succeeded in +cutting Souchey's ground from under him as far as any defence of Nina +was concerned, and they succeeded also in solving his religious doubts. +Poor Souchey was at last convinced that the best service he could +tender to his mistress was to save her from marrying the Jew, let the +means by which this was to be done be, almost, what they might. + +<p>As the result of this teaching, Souchey went late one afternoon to +the Jews' quarter. He did not go thither direct from the house in the +Kleinseite, but from Madame Zamenoy's abode, where he had again dined +previously in Lotta's presence. Madame Zamenoy herself had condescended +to enlighten his mind on the subject of Nina's peril, and had gone so +far as to invite him to hear a few words on the subject from a priest +on that side of the water. Souchey had only heard Nina's report of what +Father Jerome had said, but he was listening with his own ears while +the other priest declared his opinion that things would go very badly +with any Christian girl who might marry a Jew. This sufficed for him; +and then — having been so far enlightened by Madame Zamenoy herself — he +accepted a little commission, which took him to the Jew's house. Lotta +had had much difficulty in arranging this; for Souchey was not open +to a bribe in the matter, and on that account was able to press his +legitimate suit very closely. Before he would start on his errand to +the Jew, Lotta was almost obliged to promise that she would yield. + +<p>It was late in the afternoon when he got to Trendellsohn's house. He +had never been there before, though he well knew the exact spot on +which it stood, and had often looked up at the windows, regarding the +place with unpleasant suspicions; for he knew that Trendellsohn was +now the owner of the property that had once been his master's, and, of +course, as a good Christian, he believed that the Jew had obtained +Balatka's money by robbery and fraud. He hesitated a moment before he +presented himself at the door, having some fear at his heart. He knew +that he was doing right, but these Jews in their own quarter were +uncanny, and might be dangerous! To Anton Trendellsohn, over in the +Kleinseite, Souchey could be independent, and perhaps on occasions a +little insolent; but of Anton Trendellsohn in his own domains he almost +acknowledged to himself that he was afraid. Lotta had told him that, if +Anton were not at home, his commission could be done as well with the +old man; and as he at last made his way round the synagogue to the +house door, he determined that he would ask for the elder Jew. That +which he had to say, he thought, might be said easier to the father +than to the son. + +<p>The door of the house stood open, and Souchey, who, in his confusion, +missed the bell, entered the passage. The little oil-lamp still hung +there, giving a mysterious glimmer of light, which he did not at all +enjoy. He walked on very slowly, trying to get courage to call, when, +of a sudden, he perceived that there was a figure of a man standing +close to him in the gloom. He gave a little start, barely suppressing a +scream, and then perceived that the man was Anton Trendellsohn himself. +Anton, hearing steps in the passage, had come out from the room on the +ground-floor, and had seen Souchey before Souchey had seen him. + +<p>"You have come from Josef Balatka's," said the Jew. "How is the old +man?" + +<p>Souchey took off his cap and bowed, and muttered something as to his +having come upon an errand. "And my master is something better to-day," +he said, "thanks be to God for all His mercies!" + +<p>"Amen," said the Jew. + +<p>"But it will only last a day or two; no more than that," said Souchey. +"He has had the doctor and the priest, and they both say that it is all +over with him for this world." + +<p>"And Nina — you have brought some message probably from her?" + +<p>"No — no indeed; that is, not exactly; not to-day, Herr Trendellsohn. +The truth is, I had wished to speak a word or two to you about the +maiden; but perhaps you are engaged — perhaps another time would be +better." + +<p>"I am not engaged, and no other time could be better." + +<p>They were still out in the passage, and Souchey hesitated. That which +he had to say it would behove him to whisper into the closest privacy +of the Jew's ear — into the ear of the old Jew or of the young. "It is +something very particular," said Souchey. + +<p>"Very particular — is it?" said the Jew. + +<p>"Very particular indeed." said Souchey. Then Anton Trendellsohn led +the way back into the dark room on the ground-floor from whence he had +come, and invited Souchey to follow him. The shutters were up, and the +place was seldom used. There was a counter running through it, and a +cross-counter, such as are very common when seen by the light of day +in shops; but the place seemed to be mysterious to Souchey; and always +afterwards, when he thought of this interview, he remembered that his +tale had been told in the gloom of a chamber that had never been +arranged for honest Christian purposes. + +<p>"And now, what is it you have to tell me?" said the Jew. + +<p>After some fashion Souchey told his tale, and the Jew listened to him +without a word of interruption. More than once Souchey had paused, +hoping that the Jew would say something; but not a sound had fallen +from Trendellsohn till Souchey's tale was done. + +<p>"And it is so — is it?" said the Jew when Souchey ceased to speak. There +was nothing in his voice which seemed to indicate either sorrow or joy, +or even surprise. + +<p>"Yes, it is so," said Souchey. + +<p>"And how much am I to pay you for the information?" the Jew asked. + +<p>"You are to pay me nothing," said Souchey. + +<p>"What! you betray your mistress gratis?" + +<p>"I do not betray her," said Souchey. I love her and the old man too. I +have been with them through fair weather and through foul. I have not +betrayed her." + +<p>"Then why have you come to me with this story?" + +<p>The whole truth was almost on Souchey's tongue. He had almost said that +his sole object was to save his mistress from the disgrace of marrying +a Jew. But he checked himself, then paused a moment, and then left the +room and the house abruptly. He had done his commission, and the fewer +words which he might have with the Jew after that the better. + +<p>On the following morning Nina was seated by her father's bedside, when +her quick ear caught through the open door the sound of a footstep in +the hall below. She looked for a moment at the old man, and saw that if +not sleeping he appeared to sleep. She leaned over him for a moment, +gave one gentle touch with her hand to the bed-clothes, then crept out +into the parlour, and closed behind her the door of the bed-room. When +in the middle of the outer chamber she listened again, and there was +clearly a step on the stairs. She listened again, and she knew that the +step was the step of her lover. He had come to her at last, then. Now, +at this moment, she lost all remembrance of her need of forgiving him. +Forgiving him! What could there be to be forgiven to one who could make +her so happy as she felt herself to be at this moment? She opened the +door of the room just as he had raised his hand to knock, and threw +herself into his arms. "Anton, dearest, you have come at last. But I +am not going to scold. I am so glad that you have come, my own one!" + +<p>While she was yet speaking, he brought her back into the room, +supporting her with his arm round her waist; and when the door was +closed he stood over her still holding her up, and looking down into +her face, which was turned up to his. "Why do you not speak to me, +Anton?" she said. But she smiled as she spoke, and there was nothing +of fear in the tone of her voice, for his look was kind, and there was +love in his eyes. + +<p>He stooped down over her, and fastened his lips upon her forehead. She +pressed herself closer against his shoulder, and shutting her eyes, as +she gave herself up to the rapture of his embrace, told herself that +now all should be well with them. + +<p>"Dear Nina," he said. + +<p>"Dearest, dearest Anton," she replied. + +<p>And then he asked after her father; and the two sat together for a +while, with their knees almost touching, talking in whispers as to the +condition of the old man. And they were still so sitting, and still so +talking, when Nina rose from her chair, and put up her forefinger with +a slight motion for silence, and a pretty look of mutual interest — as +though Anton were already one of the same family; and, touching his +hair lightly with her hand as she passed him, that he might feel how +delighted she was to be able so to touch him, she went back to the door +of the bedroom on tiptoe, and, lifting the latch without a sound, put +in her head and listened. But the sick man had not stirred. His face +was still turned from her, as though he slept, and then, again closing +the door, she came back to her lover. + +<p>"He is quite quiet," she said, whispering. + +<p>"Does he suffer?" + +<p>"I think not; he never complains. When he is awake he will sit with my +hand within his own, and now and again there is a little pressure." + +<p>"And he says nothing?" + +<p>"Very little; hardly a word now and then. When he does speak, it is of +his food." + +<p>"He can eat, then?" + +<p>"A morsel of jelly, or a little soup. But, Anton, I must tell you — I +tell you everything, you know — where do you think the things that he +takes have come from? But perhaps you know." + +<p>"Indeed I do not." + +<p>"They were sent to me by Rebecca Loth." + +<p>"By Rebecca!" + +<p>"Yes; by your friend Rebecca. She must be a good girl." + +<p>"She is a good girl, Nina." + +<p>"And you shall know everything; see — she sent me these," and Nina +showed her shoes; "and the very stockings I have on; I am not ashamed +that you should know." + +<p>"Your want, then, has been so great as that?" + +<p>"Father has been very poor. How should he not be poor when nothing is +earned? And she came here, and she saw it." + +<p>"She sent you these things?" + +<p>"Yes, Ruth came with them; there was a great basket with nourishing +food for father. It was very kind of her. But, Anton, Rebecca says that +I ought not to marry you, because of our religion. She says all the +Jews in Prague will become your enemies." + +<p>"We will not stay in Prague; we will go elsewhere. There are other +cities besides Prague." + +<p>"Where nobody will know us?" + +<p>"Where we will not be ashamed to be known." + +<p>"I told Rebecca that I would give you back all your promises, if you +wished me to do so." + +<p>"I do not wish it. I will not give you back your promises, Nina." + +<p>The enraptured girl again clung to him. "My own one," she said, "my +darling, my husband; when you speak to me like that, there is no girl +in Bohemia so happy as I am. Hush! I thought it was father. But no; +there is no sound. I do not mind what anyone says to me, as long as you +are kind." + +<p>She was now sitting on his knee, and his arm was round her waist, and +she was resting her head against his brow; he had asked for no pardon, +but all the past was entirely forgiven; why should she even think of it +again? Some such thought was passing through her mind, when he spoke a +word, and it seemed as though a dagger had gone into her heart. "About +that paper, Nina?" Accursed document, that it should be brought again +between them to dash the cup of joy from her lips at such a moment as +this! She disengaged herself from his embrace, almost with a leap. +"Well! what about the paper?" she said. + +<p>Simply this, that I would wish to know where it is." + +<p>"And you think I have it?" + +<p>"No; I do not think so; I am perplexed about it, hardly knowing what to +believe; but I do not think you have it; I think that you know nothing +of it." + +<p>"Then why do you mention it again, reminding me of the cruel words +which you spoke before?" + +<p>"Because it is necessary for both our sakes. I will tell you plainly +just what I have heard: your servant Souchey has been with me, and he +says that you have it." + +<p>"Souchey!" + +<p>"Yes; Souchey. It seemed strange enough to me, for I had always thought +him to be your friend." + +<p>"Souchey has told you that I have got it?" + +<p>"He says that it is in that desk," and the Jew pointed to the old +depository of all the treasures which Nina possessed. + +<p>"He is a liar." + +<p>"I think he is so, though I cannot tell why he should have so lied; but +I think he is a liar; I do not believe that it is there; but in such a +matter it is well that the fact should be put beyond all dispute. You +will not object to my looking into the desk?" He had come there with a +fixed resolve that he would demand to search among her papers. It was +very unpleasant to him, and he knew that his doing so would be painful +to her; but he told himself that it would be best for them both that he +should persevere. + +<p>"Will you open it, or shall I?" he said; and as he spoke, she looked +into his face, and saw that all tenderness and love were banished from +it, and that the hard suspicious greed of the Jew was there instead. + +<p>"I will not unlock it," she said; "there is the key, and you can do as +you please." Then she flung the key upon the table, and stood with her +back up against the wall, at some ten paces distant from the spot where +the desk stood. He took up the key, and placed it remorselessly in the +lock, and opened the desk, and brought all the papers forth on to the +table which stood in the middle of the room. + +<p>"Are all my letters to be read?" she asked. + +<p>"Nothing is to be read," he said. + +<p>"Not that I should mind it; or at least I should have cared but little +ten minutes since. There are words there may make you think I have been +a fool, but a fool only too faithful to you." + +<p>He made no answer to this, but moved the papers one by one carefully +till he came to a folded document larger than the others. Why dwell +upon it? Of course it was the deed for which he was searching. Nina, +when from her station by the wall she saw that there was something in +her lover's hands of which she had no knowledge — something which had +been in her own desk without her privity — came forward a step or two, +looking with all her eyes. But she did not speak till he had spoken; +nor did he speak at once. He slowly unfolded the document, and perused +the heading of it; then he refolded it, and placed it on the table, and +stood there with his hand upon it. + +<p>"This," said he, "is the paper for which I am looking. Souchey, at any +rate, is not a liar. + +<p>"How came it there?" said Nina, almost screaming in her agony. + +<p>"That I know not; but Souchey is not a liar; nor were your aunt and her +servant liars in telling me that I should find it in your hands." + +<p>"Anton," she said, "as the Lord made me, I knew not of it;" and she +fell on her knees before his feet. + +<p>He looked down upon her, scanning every feature of her face and every +gesture of her body with hard inquiring eyes. He did not stoop to raise +her, nor, at the moment, did he say a word to comfort her. "And you +think that I stole it and put it there?" she said. She did not quail +before his eyes, but seemed, though kneeling before him, to look up +at him as though she would defy him. When first she had sunk upon the +ground, she had been weak, and wanted pardon though she was ignorant +of all offence; but his hardness, as he stood with his eyes fixed upon +her, had hardened her, and all her intellect, though not her heart, +was in revolt against him. "You think that I have robbed you?" + +<p>"I do not know what to think," he said. + +<p>Then she rose slowly to her feet, and, collecting the papers which he +had strewed upon the table, put them back slowly into the desk, and +locked it. + +<p>"You have done with this now," she said, holding the key in her hand. + +<p>"Yes; I do not want the key again." + +<p>"And you have done with me also?" + +<p>He paused a moment or two to collect his thoughts, and then he answered +her. "Nina, I would wish to think about this before I speak of it more +fully. What step I may next take I cannot say without considering it +much. I would not wish to pain you if I could help it." + +<p>"Tell me at once what it is that you believe of me?" + +<p>"I cannot tell you at once. Rebecca Loth is friendly to you, and I will +send her to you to-morrow." + +<p>"I will not see Rebecca Loth," said Nina. "Hush! there is father's +voice. Anton, I have nothing more to say to you — nothing — nothing." +Then she left him, and went into her father's room. + +<p>For some minutes she was busy by her father's bed, and went about her +work with a determined alacrity, as though she would wipe out of her +mind altogether, for the moment, any thought about her love and the Jew +and the document that had been found in her desk; and for a while she +was successful, with a consciousness, indeed, that she was under the +pressure of a terrible calamity which must destroy her, but still with +an outward presence of mind that supported her in her work. And her +father spoke to her, saying more to her than he had done for days past, +thanking her for her care, patting her hand with his, caressing her, +and bidding her still be of good cheer, as God would certainly be good +to one who had been so excellent a daughter. "But I wish, Nina, he were +not a Jew," he said suddenly. + +<p>"Dear father, we will not talk of that now." + +<p>"And he is a stern man, Nina." + +<p>But on this subject she would speak no further, and therefore she left +the bedside for a moment, and offered him a cup, from which he drank. +When he had tasted it he forgot the matter that had been in his mind, +and said no further word as to Nina's engagement. + +<p>As soon as she had taken the cup from her father's hand, she returned +to the parlour. It might be that Anton was still there. She had left +him in the room, and had shut her ears against the sound of his steps, +as though she were resolved that she would care nothing ever again for +his coming or going. He was gone, however, and the room was empty, and +she sat down in solitude, with her back against the wall, and began to +realise her position. He had told her that others accused her, but that +he had not suspected her. He had not suspected her, but he had thought +it necessary to search, and had found in her possession that which had +made her guilty in his eyes! + +<p>She would never see him again — never willingly. It was not only that he +would never forgive her, but that she could never now be brought to +forgive him. He had stabbed her while her words of love were warmest in +his ear. His foul suspicions had been present to his mind even while +she was caressing him. He had never known what it was to give himself +up really to his love for one moment. While she was seated on his knee, +with her head pressed against his, his intellect had been busy with the +key and the desk, as though he were a policeman looking for a thief, +rather than a lover happy in the endearments of his mistress. Her vivid +mind pictured all this to her, filling her full with every incident of +the insult she had endured. No. There must be an end of it now. If she +could see her aunt that moment, or Lotta, or even Ziska, she would tell +them that it should be so. She would say nothing to Anton — no, not a +word again, though both might live for an eternity; but she would write +a line to Rebecca Loth, and tell the Jewess that the Jew was now free +to marry whom he would among his own people. And some of the words that +she thought would be fitting for such a letter occurred to her as she +sat there. "I know now that a Jew and a Christian ought not to love +each other as we loved. Their hearts are different." That was her +present purpose, but, as will be seen, she changed it afterwards. + +<p>But ever and again as she strengthened her resolution, her thoughts +would run from her, carrying her back to the sweet rapture of some +moment in which the man had been gracious to her; and even while she +was struggling to teach herself to hate him, she would lean her head on +one side, as though by doing so she might once more touch his brow with +hers; and unconsciously she would put out her fingers, as though they +might find their way into his hand. And then she would draw them back +with a shudder, as though recoiling from the touch of an adder. + +<p>Hours had passed over her before she began to think whence had come the +paper which Trendellsohn had found in her desk; and then, when the idea +of some fraud presented itself to her, that part of the subject did +not seem to her to be of great moment. It mattered but little who had +betrayed her. It might be Rebecca, or Souchey, or Ruth, or Lotta, or +all of them together. His love, his knowledge of her whom he loved, +should have carried him aloft out of the reach of any such poor trick +as that! What mattered it now who had stolen her key, and gone like +a thief to her desk, and laid this plot for her destruction? That he +should have been capable of being deceived by such a plot against her +was enough for her. She did not even speak to Souchey on the subject. +In the course of the afternoon he came across her as she moved about +the house, looking ashamed, not daring to meet her eyes, hardly able +to mutter a word to her. But she said not a syllable to him about her +desk. She could not bring herself to plead the cause between her and +her lover before her father's servant. + +<p>The greater part of the day she passed by her father's bedside, but +whenever she could escape from the room, she seated herself in the +chair against the wall, endeavouring to make up her mind as to the +future. But there was much more of passion than of thought within her +breast. Never, never, never would she forgive him! Never again would +she sit on his knee caressing him. Never again would she even speak to +him. Nothing would she take from his hand, or from the hands of his +friends! Nor would she ever stoop to take aught from her aunt, or +from Ziska. They had triumphed over her. She knew not how. They had +triumphed over her, but the triumph should be very bitter to them — +very bitter, if there was any touch of humanity left among them. + +<p>Later in the day there came to be something of motion in the house. Her +father was worse in health, was going fast, and the doctor was again +there. And in these moments Souchey was with her, busy in the dying +man's room; and there were gentle kind words spoken between him and +Nina — as would be natural between such persons at such a time. He knew +that he had been a traitor, and the thought of his treachery was heavy +at his heart; but he perceived that no immediate punishment was to come +upon him, and it was some solace to him that he could be sedulous and +gentle and tender. And Nina, though she knew that the man had given his +aid in destroying her, bore with him not only without a hard word, but +almost without a severe thought. What did it matter what such a one as +Souchey could do? + +<p>In the middle watches of that night the old man died, and Nina was +alone in the world. Souchey, indeed, was with her in the house, and +took from her all painful charge of the bed at which now her care could +no longer be of use. And early in the morning, while it was yet dark, +Lotta came down, and spoke words to her, of which she remembered +nothing. And then she knew that her aunt Sophie was there, and that +some offers were made to her at which she only shook her head. "Of +course you will come up to us," aunt Sophie said. And she made many +more suggestions, in answer to all of which Nina only shook her head. +Then her aunt and Nina, with Lotta's aid, fixed upon some plan — Nina +hardly knew what — as to the morrow. She did not care to know what it +was that they fixed. They were going to leave her alone for this day, +and the day would be very long. She told herself that it would be long +enough for her. + +<p>The day was very long. When her aunt had left her she saw no one but +Souchey and an old woman who was busy in the bedroom which was now +closed. She had stood at the foot of the bed with her aunt, but after +that she did not return to the chamber. It was not only her father who, +for her, was now lying dead. She had loved her father well, but with a +love infinitely greater she had loved another; and that other one was +now dead to her also. What was there left to her in the world? The +charity of her aunt, and Lotta's triumph, and Ziska's love? No indeed! +She would bear neither the charity, nor the triumph, nor the love. One +other visitor came to the house that day. It was Rebecca Loth. But Nina +refused to see Rebecca. "Tell her," she said to Souchey, "that I cannot +see a stranger while my father is lying dead." How often did the idea +occur to her, throughout the terrible length of that day, that "he" +might come to her? But he came not. "So much the better," she said to +herself. "Were he to come, I would not see him." + +<p>Late in the evening, when the little lamp in the room had been already +burning for some hour or two, she called Souchey to her. "Take this +note," she said, "to Anton Trendellsohn." + +<p>"What! to-night?" said Souchey, trembling. + +<p>"Yes, to-night. It is right that he should know that the house is now +his own, to do what he will with it." + +<p>Then Souchey took the note, which was as follows: + +<br> +<br> + <table> + <tr><td width="7%"></td><td align="left"> + <i> + My father is dead, and the house will be empty to-morrow. You may come + and take your property without fear that you will be troubled by + </i> + </td> + <tr><td></td><td align="right"><i>NINA BALATKA.</i></td> + </table> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XV</h3> +</center> + +<p>When Souchey left the room with the note, Nina went to the door and +listened. She heard him turn the lock below, and heard his step out +in the courtyard, and listened till she knew that he was crossing the +square. Then she ran quickly up to her own room, put on her hat and her +old worn cloak — the cloak which aunt Sophie had given her — and returned +once more into the parlour. She looked round the room with anxious +eyes, and seeing her desk, she took the key from her pocket and put +it into the lock. Then there came a thought into her mind as to the +papers; but she resolved that the thought need not arrest her, and +she left the key in the lock with the papers untouched. Then she went +to the door of her father's room, and stood there for a moment with her +hand upon the latch. She tried it ever so gently, but she found that +the door was bolted. The bolt, she knew, was on her side, and she could +withdraw it; but she did not do so; seeming to take the impediment as +though it were a sufficient bar against her entrance. Then she ran down +the stairs rapidly, opened the front door, and found herself out in the +night air. + +<p>It was a cold windy night — not so late, indeed, as to have made her +feel that it was night, had she not come from the gloom of the dark +parlour, and the glimmer of her one small lamp. It was now something +beyond the middle of October, and at present it might be eight o'clock. +She knew that there would be moonlight, and she looked up at the sky; +but the clouds were all dark, though she could see that they were +moving along with the gusts of wind. It was very cold, and she drew her +cloak closer about her as she stepped out into the archway. + +<p>Up above her, almost close to her in the gloom of the night, there was +the long colonnade of the palace, with the lights glimmering in the +windows as they always glimmered. She allowed herself for a moment to +think who might be there in those rooms — as she had so often thought +before. It was possible that Anton might be there. He had been there +once before at this time in the evening, as he himself had told her. +Wherever he might be, was he thinking of her? But if he thought of her, +he was thinking of her as one who had deceived him, who had tried to +rob him. Ah! the day would soon come in which he would learn that he +had wronged her. When that day should come, would his heart be bitter +within him? "He will certainly be unhappy for a time," she said; "but +he is hard and will recover, and she will console him. It will be +better so. A Christian and a Jew should never love each other." + +<p>As she stood the clouds were lifted for a moment from the face of the +risen moon, and she could see by the pale clear light the whole facade +of the palace as it ran along the steep hillside above her. She could +count the arches, as she had so often counted them by the same light. +They seemed to be close over her head, and she stood there thinking of +them, till the clouds had again skurried across the moon's face, and +she could only see the accustomed glimmer in the windows. As her eye +fell upon the well-known black buildings around her, she found that it +was very dark. It was well for her that it should be so dark. She never +wanted to see the light again. + +<p>There was a footstep on the other side of the square, and she paused +till it had passed away beyond the reach of her ears. Then she came out +from under the archway, and hurried across the square to the street +which led to the bridge. It was a dark gloomy lane, narrow, and +composed of high buildings without entrances, the sides of barracks and +old palaces. From the windows above her head on the left, she heard +the voices of soldiers. A song was being sung, and she could hear the +words. How cruel it was that other people should have so much of +light-hearted joy in the world, but that for her everything should have +been so terribly sad! The wind, as it met her, seemed to penetrate to her +bones. She was very cold! But it was useless to regard that. There was +no place on the face of the earth that would ever be warm for her. + +<p>As she passed along the causeway leading to the bridge, a sound with +which she was very familiar met her ears. They were singing vespers +under the shadow of one of the great statues which are placed one over +each arch of the bridge. There was a lay friar standing by a little +table, on which there was a white cloth and a lighted lamp and a small +crucifix; and above the crucifix, supported against the stone-work of +the bridge, there was a picture of the Virgin with her Child, and there +was a tawdry wreath of paper flowers, so that by the light of the lamp +you could see that a little altar had been prepared. And on the table +there was a plate containing kreutzers, into which the faithful who +passed and took a part in the evening psalm of praise, might put an +offering for the honour of the Virgin, and for the benefit of the poor +friar and his brethren in their poor cloisters at home. Nina knew all +about it well. Scores of times had she stood on the same spot upon the +bridge, and sung the vesper hymn, ere she passed on to the Kleinseite. + +<p>And now she paused and sang it once again. Around the table upon the +pavement there stood perhaps thirty or forty persons, most of them +children, and the remainder girls perhaps of Nina's age. And the friar +stood close by the table, leaning idly against the bridge, with his eye +wandering from the little plate with the kreutzers to the passers-by +who might possibly contribute. And ever and anon he with drawling +voice would commence some sentence of the hymn, and then the girls and +children would take it up, well knowing the accustomed words; and their +voices as they sang would sound sweetly across the waters, the loud +gurgling of which, as they ran beneath the arch, would be heard during +the pauses. + +<p>And Nina stopped and sang. When she was a child she had sung there very +often, and the friar of those days would put his hand upon her head and +bless her, as she brought her small piece of tribute to his plate. Of +late, since she had been at variance with the Church by reason of the +Jew, she had always passed by rapidly, as though feeling that she had +no longer any right to take a part in such a ceremony. But now she had +done with the Jew, and surely she might sing the vesper song. So she +stopped and sang, remembering not the less as she sang, that that which +she was about to do, if really done, would make all such singing +unavailing for her. + +<p>But then, perhaps, even yet it might not be done. Lotta's first +prediction, that the Jew would desert her, had certainly come true; +and Lotta's second prediction, that there would be nothing left for +her but to drown herself, seemed to her to be true also. She had left +the house in which her father's dead body was still lying, with this +purpose. Doubly deserted as she now was by lover and father, she could +live no longer. It might, however, be possible that that saint who was +so powerful over the waters might yet do something for her — might yet +interpose on her behalf, knowing, as he did, of course, that all idea +of marriage between her, a Christian, and her Jew lover had been +abandoned. At any rate she stood and sang the hymn, and when there +came the accustomed lull at the end of the verse, she felt in her +pocket for a coin, and, taking a piece of ten kreutzers, she stepped +quickly up to the plate and put it in. A day or two ago ten kreutzers +was an important portion of the little sum which she still had left in +hand, but now ten kreutzers could do nothing for her. It was at any +rate better that the friar should have it than that her money should +go with her down into the blackness of the river. Nevertheless she did +not give the friar all. She saw one girl whispering to another as she +stepped up to the table, and she heard her own name. "That is Nina +Balatka." And then there was an answer which she did not hear, but +which she was sure referred to the Jew. The girls looked at her with +angry eyes, and she longed to stop and explain to them that she was no +longer betrothed to the Jew. Then, perhaps, they would be gentle with +her, and she might yet hear a kind word spoken to her before she went. +But she did not speak to them. No; she would never speak to man or +woman again. What was the use of speaking now? No sympathy that she +could receive would go deep enough to give relief to such wounds as +hers. + +<p>As she dropped her piece of money into the plate her eyes met those of +the friar, and she recognised at once a man whom she had known years +ago, at the same spot and engaged in the same work. He was old and +haggard, and thin, and grey, and very dirty; but there came a smile +over his face as he also recognised her. He could not speak to her, for +he had to take up a verse in the hymn, and drawl out the words which +were to set the crowd singing, and Nina had retired back again before +he was silent. But she knew that he had known her, and she almost felt +that she had found a friend who would be kind to her. On the morrow, +when inquiry would be made — and aunt Sophie would certainly be loud +in her inquiries — this friar would be able to give some testimony +respecting her. + +<p>She passed on altogether across the bridge, in order that she might +reach the spot she desired without observation — and perhaps also with +some halting idea that she might thus postpone the evil moment. The +figure of St John Nepomucene rested on the other balustrade of the +bridge, and she was minded to stand for a while under its shadow. Now, +at Prague it is the custom that they who pass over the bridge shall +always take the right-hand path as they go; and she, therefore, in +coming from the Kleinseite, had taken that opposite to the statue of +the saint. She had thought of this, and had told herself that she would +cross the roadway in the middle of the bridge; but at that moment the +moon was shining brightly: and then, too, the night was long. Why need +she be in a hurry? + +<p>At the further end of the bridge she stood a while in the shade of the +watch-tower, and looked anxiously around her. When last she had been +over in the Old Town, within a short distance of the spot where she now +stood, she had chanced to meet her lover. What if she should see him +now? She was sure that she would not speak to him. And yet she looked +very anxiously up the dark street, through the glimmer of the dull +lamps. First there came one man, and then another, and a third; and +she thought, as her eyes fell upon them, that the figure of each was +the figure of Anton Trendellsohn. But as they emerged from the darker +shadow into the light that was near, she saw that it was not so, and +she told herself that she was glad. If Anton were to come and find +her there, it might be that he would disturb her purpose. But yet she +looked again before she left the shadow of the tower. Now there was no +one passing in the street. There was no figure there to make her think +that her lover was coming either to save her or to disturb her. + +<p>Taking the pathway on the other side, she turned her face again towards +the Kleinseite, and very slowly crept along under the balustrade of +the bridge. This bridge over the Moldau is remarkable in many ways, +but it is specially remarkable for the largeness of its proportions. It +is very long, taking its spring from the shore a long way before the +actual margin of the river; it is of a fine breadth: the side-walks to +it are high and massive; and the groups of statues with which it is +ornamented, though not in themselves of much value as works of art, +have a dignity by means of their immense size which they lend to the +causeway, making the whole thing noble, grand, and impressive. And +below, the Moldau runs with a fine, silent, dark volume of water — a +very sea of waters when the rains have fallen and the little rivers +have been full, though in times of drought great patches of ugly dry +land are to be seen in its half-empty bed. At the present moment there +were no such patches; and the waters ran by, silent, black, in great +volumes, and with unchecked rapid course. It was only by pausing +specially to listen to them that the passer-by could hear them as they +glided smoothly round the piers of the bridge. Nina did pause and did +hear them. They would have been almost less terrible to her, had the +sound been rougher and louder. + +<p>On she went, very slowly. The moon, she thought, had disappeared +altogether before she reached the cross inlaid in the stone on the +bridge-side, on which she was accustomed to lay her fingers, in order +that she might share somewhat of the saint's power over the river. At +that moment, as she came up to it, the night was very dark. She had +calculated that by this time the light of the moon would have waned, +so that she might climb to the spot which she had marked for herself +without observation. She paused, hesitating whether she would put her +hand upon the cross. It could not at least do her any harm. It might +be that the saint would be angry with her, accusing her of hypocrisy; +but what would be the saint's anger for so small a thing amidst the +multitudes of charges that would be brought against her? For that which +she was going to do now there could be no absolution given. And perhaps +the saint might perceive that the deed on her part was not altogether +hypocritical — that there was something in it of a true prayer. He +might see this, and intervene to save her from the waters. So she put +the palm of her little hand full upon the cross, and then kissed it +heartily, and after that raised it up again till it rested on the foot +of the saint. As she stood there she heard the departing voices of the +girls and children singing the last verse of the vesper hymn, as they +followed the friar off the causeway of the bridge into the Kleinseite. + +<p>She was determined that she would persevere. She had endured that which +made it impossible that she should recede, and had sworn to herself a +thousand times that she would never endure that which would have to be +endured if she remained longer in this cruel world. There would be no +roof to cover her now but the roof in the Windberg-gasse, beneath which +there was to her a hell upon earth. No; she would face the anger of +all the saints rather than eat the bitter bread which her aunt would +provide for her. And she would face the anger of all the saints rather +than fall short in her revenge upon her lover. She had given herself to +him altogether — for him she had been half-starved, when, but for him, +she might have lived as a favoured daughter in her aunt's house — for +him she had made it impossible to herself to regard any other man with +a spark of affection — for his sake she had hated her cousin Ziska — +her cousin who was handsome, and young, and rich, and had loved her — +feeling that the very idea that she could accept love from anyone but +Anton had been an insult to her. She had trusted Anton as though his +word had been gospel to her. She had obeyed him in everything, allowing +him to scold her as though she were already subject to his rule; and, +to speak the truth, she had enjoyed such treatment, obtaining from it +a certain assurance that she was already his own. She had loved him +entirely, had trusted him altogether, had been prepared to bear all +that the world could fling upon her for his sake, wanting nothing in +return but that he should know that she was true to him. + +<p>This he had not known, nor had he been able to understand such truth. +It had not been possible to him to know it. The inborn suspicion of +his nature had broken out in opposition to his love, forcing her to +acknowledge to herself that she had been wrong in loving a Jew. He had +been unable not to suspect her of some vile scheme by which she might +possibly cheat him of his property, if at the last moment she should +not become his wife. She told herself that she understood it all now — +that she could see into his mind, dark and gloomy as were its recesses. +She had wasted all her heart upon a man who had never even believed +in her; and would she not be revenged upon him? Yes, she would be +revenged, and she would cure the malady of her own love by the only +possible remedy within her reach. + +<p>The statue of St John Nepomucene is a single figure, standing in +melancholy weeping posture on the balustrade of the bridge, without +any of that ponderous strength of wide-spread stone which belongs to +the other groups. This St John is always pictured to us as a thin, +melancholy, half-starved saint, who has had all the life washed out +of him by his long immersion. There are saints to whom a trusting +religious heart can turn, relying on their apparent physical +capabilities. St Mark, for instance, is always a tower of strength, +and St Christopher is very stout, and St Peter carries with him an +ancient manliness which makes one marvel at his cowardice when he +denied his Master. St Lawrence, too, with his gridiron, and St +Bartholomew with his flaying-knife and his own skin hanging over his +own arm, look as though they liked their martyrdom, and were proud of +it, and could be useful on an occasion. But this St John of the Bridges +has no pride in his appearance, and no strength in his look. He is a +mild, meek saint, teaching one rather by his attitude how to bear with +the malice of the waters, than offering any protection against their +violence. But now, at this moment, his aid was the only aid to which +Nina could look with any hope. She had heard of his rescuing many +persons from death amidst the current of the Moldau. Indeed she thought +that she could remember having been told that the river had no power to +drown those who could turn their minds to him when they were struggling +in the water. Whether this applied only to those who were in sight +of his statue on the bridge of Prague, or whether it was good in all +rivers of the world, she did not know. Then she tried to think whether +she had ever heard of any case in which the saint had saved one who +had — who had done the thing which she was now about to do. She was +almost sure that she had never heard of such a case as that. But, then, +was there not something special in her own case? Was not her suffering +so great, her condition so piteous, that the saint would be driven to +compassion in spite of the greatness of her sin? Would he not know that +she was punishing the Jew by the only punishment with which she could +reach him? She looked up into the saint's wan face, and fancied that +no eyes were ever so piteous, no brow ever so laden with the deep +suffering of compassion. But would this punishment reach the heart of +Anton Trendellsohn? Would he care for it? When he should hear that she +had — destroyed her own life because she could not endure the cruelty of +his suspicion, would the tidings make him unhappy? When last they had +been together he had told her, with all that energy which he knew so +well how to put into his words, that her love was necessary to his +happiness. "I will never release you from your promises," he had said, +when she offered to give him back his troth because of the ill-will of +his people. And she still believed him. Yes, he did love her. There was +something of consolation to her in the assurance that the strings of +his heart would be wrung when he should hear of this. If his bosom were +capable of agony, he would be agonised. + +<p>It was very dark at this moment, and now was the time for her to climb +upon the stone-work and hide herself behind the drapery of the saint's +statue. More than once, as she had crossed the bridge, she had observed +the spot, and had told herself that if such a deed were to be done, +that would be the place for doing it. She had always been conscious, +since the idea had entered her mind, that she would lack the power to +step boldly up on to the parapet and go over at once, as the bathers do +when they tumble headlong into the stream that has no dangers for them. +She had known that she must crouch, and pause, and think of it, and +look at it, and nerve herself with the memory of her wrongs. Then, +at some moment in which her heart was wrung to the utmost, she would +gradually slacken her hold, and the dark, black, silent river should +take her. She climbed up into the niche, and found that the river was +very far from her, though death was so near to her and the fall would +be so easy. When she became aware that there was nothing between her +and the great void space below her, nothing to guard her, nothing left +to her in all the world to protect her, she retreated, and descended +again to the pavement. And never in her life had she moved with more +care, lest, inadvertently, a foot or a hand might slip, and she might +tumble to her doom against her will. + +<p>When she was again on the pathway she remembered her note to Anton — +that note which was already in his hands. What would he think of her if +she were only to threaten the deed, and then not perform it? And would +she allow him to go unpunished? Should he triumph, as he would do if +she were now to return to the house which she had told him she had +left? She clasped her hands together tightly, and pressed them first +to her bosom and then to her brow, and then again she returned to the +niche from which the fall into the river must be made. Yes, it was very +easy. The plunge might be taken at any moment. Eternity was before her, +and of life there remained to her but the few moments in which she +might cling there and think of what was coming. Surely she need not +begrudge herself a minute or two more of life. + +<p>She was very cold, so cold that she pressed herself against the stone +in order that she might save herself from the wind that whistled round +her. But the water would be colder still than the wind, and when once +there she could never again be warm. The chill of the night, and the +blackness of the gulf before her, and the smooth rapid gurgle of the +dark moving mass of waters beneath, were together more horrid to her +imagination than even death itself. Thrice she released herself from +her backward pressure against the stone, in order that she might fall +forward and have done with it, but as often she found herself returning +involuntarily to the protection which still remained to her. It seemed +as though she could not fall. Though she would have thought that +another must have gone directly to destruction if placed where she was +crouching — though she would have trembled with agony to see anyone +perched in such danger — she appeared to be firm fixed. She must jump +forth boldly, or the river would not take her. Ah! what if it were so — +that the saint who stood over her, and whose cross she had so lately +kissed, would not let her perish from beneath his feet? In these +moments her mind wandered in a maze of religious doubts and fears, and +she entertained, unconsciously, enough of doctrinal scepticism to found +a school of freethinkers. Could it be that God would punish her with +everlasting torments because in her agony she was driven to this as her +only mode of relief? Would there be no measuring of her sins against +her sorrows, and no account taken of the simplicity of her life? She +looked up towards heaven, not praying in words, but with a prayer in +her heart. For her there could be no absolution, no final blessing. The +act of her going would be an act of terrible sin. But God would know +all, and would surely take some measure of her case. He could save her +if He would, despite every priest in Prague. More than one passenger +had walked by while she was crouching in her niche beneath the statue — +had passed by and had not seen her. Indeed, the night at present was so +dark, that one standing still and looking for her would hardly be able +to define her figure. And yet, dark as it was, she could see something +of the movement of the waters beneath her, some shimmer produced by the +gliding movement of the stream. Ah! she would go now and have done with +it. Every moment that she remained was but an added agony. + +<p>Then, at that moment, she heard a voice on the bridge near her, and she +crouched close again, in order that the passenger might pass by without +noticing her. She did not wish that anyone should hear the splash of +her plunge, or be called on to make ineffectual efforts to save her. So +she would wait again. The voice drew nearer to her, and suddenly she +became aware that it was Souchey's voice. It was Souchey, and he was +not alone. It must be Anton who had come out with him to seek her, +and to save her. But no. He should have no such relief as that from +his coming sorrow. So she clung fast, waiting till they should pass, +but still leaning a little towards the causeway, so that, if it were +possible, she might see the figures as they passed. She heard the voice +of Souchey quite plain, and then she perceived that Souchey's companion +was a woman. Something of the gentleness of a woman's voice reached her +ear, but she could distinguish no word that was spoken. The steps were +now very close to her, and with terrible anxiety she peeped out to see +who might be Souchey's companion. She saw the figure, and she knew at +once by the hat that it was Rebecca Loth. They were walking fast, and +were close to her now. They would be gone in an instant. + +<p>On a sudden, at the very moment that Souchey and Rebecca were in the +act of passing beneath the feet of the saint, the clouds swept by from +off the disc of the waning moon, and the three faces were looking at +each other in the clear pale light of the night. Souchey started back +and screamed. Rebecca leaped forward and put the grasp of her hand +tight upon the skirt of Nina's dress, first one hand and then the +other, and, pressing forward with her body against the parapet, she got +a hold also of Nina's foot. She perceived instantly what was the girl's +purpose, but, by God's blessing on her efforts, there should be no cold +form found in the river that night; or, if one, then there should be +two. Nina kept her hold against the figure, appalled, dumbfounded, +awe-stricken, but still with some inner consciousness of salvation that +comforted her. Whether her life was due to the saint or to the Jewess +she knew not, but she acknowledged to herself silently that death was +beyond her reach, and she was grateful. + +<p>"Nina," said Rebecca. Nina still crouched against the stone, with her +eyes fixed on the other girl's face; but she was unable to speak. The +clouds had again obscured the moon, and the air was again black, but +the two now could see each other in the darkness, or feel that they did +so. "Nina, Nina — why are you here?" + +<p>"I do not know," said Nina, shivering. + +<p>"For the love of God take care of her," said Souchey, "or she will be +over into the river." + +<p>"She cannot fall now," said Rebecca. "Nina, will you not come down to +me? You are very cold. Come down, and I will warm you." + +<p>"I am very cold," said Nina. Then gradually she slid down into +Rebecca's arms, and was placed sitting on a little step immediately +below the figure of St John. Rebecca knelt by her side, and Nina's head +fell upon the shoulder of the Jewess. Then she burst into the violence +of hysterics, but after a moment or two a flood of tears relieved her. + +<p>"Why have you come to me?" she said. "Why have you not left me alone?" + +<p>"Dear Nina, your sorrows have been too heavy for you to bear." + +<p>"Yes; they have been very heavy." + +<p>"We will comfort you, and they shall be softened." + +<p>"I do not want comfort. I only want to — to — to go." + +<p>While Rebecca was chafing Nina's hands and feet, and tying a +handkerchief from off her own shoulders round Nina's neck, Souchey +stood over them, not knowing what to propose. "Perhaps we had better +carry her back to the old house," he said. + +<p>"I will not be carried back," said Nina. + +<p>"No, dear; the house is desolate and cold. You shall not go there. You +shall come to our house, and we will do for you the best we can there, +and you shall be comfortable. There is no one there but mother, and she +is kind and gracious. She will understand that your father has died, +and that you are alone." + +<p>Nina, as she heard this, pressed her head and shoulders close against +Rebecca's body. As it was not to be allowed to her to escape from +all her troubles, as she had thought to do, she would prefer the +neighbourhood of the Jews to that of any Christians. There was no +Christian now who would say a kind word to her. Rebecca spoke to her +very kindly, and was soft and gentle with her. She could not go where +she would be alone. Even if left to do so, all physical power would +fail her. She knew that she was weak as a child is weak, and that +she must submit to be governed. She thought it would be better to be +governed by Rebecca Loth at the present moment than by anyone else whom +she knew. Rebecca had spoken of her mother, and Nina was conscious of +a faint wish that there had been no such person in her friend's house; +but this was a minor trouble, and one which she could afford to +disregard amidst all her sorrows. How much more terrible would have +been her fate had she been carried away to aunt Sophie's house! "Does +he know?" she said, whispering the question into Rebecca's ear. + +<p>"Yes, he knows. It was he who sent me." Why did he not come himself? +That question flashed across Nina's mind, and it was present also to +Rebecca. She knew that it was the question which Nina, within her +heart, would silently ask. "I was there when the note came," said +Rebecca, "and he thought that a woman could do more than a man. I +am so glad he sent me — so very glad. Shall we go, dear?" + +<p>Then Nina rose from her seat, and stood up, and began to move slowly. +Her limbs were stiff with cold, and at first she could hardly walk; but +she did not feel that she would be unable to make the journey. Souchey +came to her side, but she rejected his arm petulantly. "Do not let him +come," she said to Rebecca. "I will do whatever you tell me; I will +indeed." Then the Jewess said a word or two to the old man, and he +retreated from Nina's side, but stood looking at her till she was out +of sight. Then he returned home to the cold desolate house in the +Kleinseite, where his only companion was the lifeless body of his old +master. But Souchey, as he left his young mistress, made no complaint +of her treatment of him. He knew that he had betrayed her, and brought +her close upon the step of death's door. He could understand it all +now. Indeed he had understood it all since the first word that Anton +Trendellsohn had spoken after reading Nina's note. + +<p>"She will destroy herself," Anton had said. + +<p>"What! Nina, my mistress?" said Souchey. Then, while Anton had called +Rebecca to him, Souchey had seen it all. "Master," he said, when the +Jew returned to him, "it was Lotta Luxa who put the paper in the desk. +Nina knew nothing of its being there." Then the Jew's heart sank coldly +within him, and his conscience became hot within his bosom. He lost +nothing of his presence of mind, but simply hurried Rebecca upon her +errand. "I shall see you again to-night," he said to the girl. + +<p>"You must come then to our house," said Rebecca. "It may be that I +shall not be able to leave it." + +<p>Rebecca, as she led Nina back across the bridge, at first said nothing +further. She pressed the other girl's arm within her own, and there +was much of tenderness and regard in the pressure. She was silent, +thinking, perhaps, that any speech might be painful to her companion. +But Nina could not restrain herself from a question, "What will they +say of me?" + +<p>"No one, dear, shall say anything." + +<p>"But he knows." + +<p>"I know not what he knows, but his knowledge, whatever it be, is only +food for his love. You may be sure of his love, Nina — quite sure, quite +sure. You may take my word for that. If that has been your doubt, you +have doubted wrongly." + +<p>Not all the healing medicines of Mercury, not wine from the flasks of +the gods, could have given Nina life and strength as did those words +from her rival's lips. All her memory of his offences against her had +again gone in her thought of her own sin. Would he forgive her and +still love her? Yes; she was a weak woman — very weak; but she had that +one strength which is sufficient to atone for all feminine weakness — +she could really love; or rather, having loved, she could not cease +to love. Anger had no effect on her love, or was as water thrown on +blazing coal, which makes it burn more fiercely. Ill usage could not +crush her love. Reason, either from herself or others, was unavailing +against it. Religion had no power over it. Her love had become her +religion to Nina. It took the place of all things both in heaven and +earth. Mild as she was by nature, it made her a tigress to those who +opposed it. It was all the world to her. She had tried to die, because +her love had been wounded; and now she was ready to live again because +she was told that her lover — the lover who had used her so cruelly — +still loved her. She pressed Rebecca's arm close into her side. "I +shall be better soon," she said. Rebecca did not doubt that Nina would +soon be better, but of her own improvement she was by no means so +certain. + +<p>They walked on through the narrow crooked streets into the Jews' +quarter, and soon stood at the door of Rebecca's house. The latch was +loose, and they entered, and they found a lamp ready for them on the +stairs. "Had you not better come to my bed for to-night?" said Rebecca. + +<p>"Only that I should be in your way, I should be so glad." + +<p>"You shall not be in my way. Come, then. But first you must eat and +drink." Though Nina declared that she could not eat a morsel, and +wanted no drink but water, Rebecca tended upon her, bringing the food +and wine that were in truth so much needed. "And now, dear, I will help +you to bed. You are yet cold, and there you will be warm." + +<p>"But when shall I see him?" + +<p>"Nay, how can I tell? But, Nina, I will not keep him from you. He shall +come to you here when he chooses — if you choose it also." + +<p>"I do choose it — I do choose it," said Nina, sobbing in her weakness — +conscious of her weakness. + +<p>While Rebecca was yet assisting Nina — the Jewess kneeling as the +Christian sat on the bedside — there came a low rap at the door, and +Rebecca was summoned away. "I shall be but a moment," she said, and she +ran down to the front door. + +<p>"Is she here?" said Anton, hoarsely. + +<p>"Yes, she is here." + +<p>"The Lord be thanked! And can I not see her?" + +<p>"You cannot see her now, Anton. She is very weary, and all but in bed." + +<p>"To-morrow I may come?" + +<p>"Yes, to-morrow." + +<p>"And, tell me, how did you find her? Where did you find her?" + +<p>"To-morrow Anton, you shall be told — whatever there is to tell For +to-night, is it not enough for you to know that she is with me? She will +share my bed, and I will be as a sister to her." + +<p>Then Anton spoke a word of warm blessing to his friend, and went his +way home. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XVI</h3> +</center> + +<p>Early in the following year, while the ground was yet bound with frost, +and the great plains of Bohemia were still covered with snow, a Jew and +his wife took their leave of Prague, and started for one of the great +cities of the west. They carried with them but little of the outward +signs of wealth, and but few of those appurtenances of comfort which +generally fall to the lot of brides among the rich; the man, however, +was well to do in the world, and was one who was not likely to bring +his wife to want. It need hardly be said that Anton Trendellsohn was +the man, and that Nina Balatka was his wife. + +<p>On the eve of their departure, Nina and her friend the Jewess had said +farewell to each other. "You will write to me from Frankfort?" said +Rebecca. + +<p>"Indeed I will," said Nina; "and you, you will write to me often, very +often?" + +<p>As often as you will wish it." + +<p>"I shall wish it always," said Nina; and you can write; you are clever. +You know how to make your words say what there is in your heart." + +<p>"But you have been able to make your face more eloquent than any +words." + +<p>"Rebecca, dear Rebecca! Why was it that he did not love such a one as +you rather than me? You are more beautiful." + +<p>"But he at least has not thought so." + +<p>"And you are so clever and so good; and you could have given him help +which I never can give him." + +<p>"He does not want help. He wants to have by his side a sweet soft +nature that can refresh him by its contrast to his own. He has done +right to love you, and to make you his wife; only, I could wish that +you were as we are in religion." To this Nina made no answer. She could +not promise that she would change her religion, but she thought that +she would endeavour to do so. She would do so if the saints would let +her. "I am glad you are going away, Nina," continued Rebecca. "It will +be better for him and better for you." + +<p>"Yes, it will be better." + +<p>"And it will be better for me also." Then Nina threw herself on +Rebecca's neck and wept. She could say nothing in words in answer to +that last assertion. If Rebecca really loved the man who was now the +husband of another, of course it would be better that they should be +apart. But Nina, who knew herself to be weak, could not understand that +Rebecca, who was so strong, should have loved as she had loved. + +<p>"If you have daughters," said Rebecca, "and if he will let you name one +of them after me, I shall be glad." Nina swore that if God gave her +such a treasure as a daughter, that child should be named after the +friend who had been so good to her. + +<p>There were also a few words of parting between Anton Trendellsohn and +the girl who had been brought up to believe that she was to be his +wife; but though there was friendship in them, there was not much of +tenderness. "I hope you will prosper where you are going," said +Rebecca, as she gave the man her hand. + +<p>"I do not fear but that I shall prosper, Rebecca." + +<p>"No; you will become rich, and perhaps great — as great, that is, as we +Jews can make ourselves." + +<p>"I hope you will live to hear that the Jews are not crushed elsewhere +as they are here in Prague." + +<p>"But, Anton, you will not cease to love the old city where your fathers +and friends have lived so long?" + +<p>"I will never cease to love those, at least, whom I leave behind me. +Farewell, Rebecca;" and he attempted to draw her to him as though +he would kiss her. But she withdrew from him, very quietly, with no +mark of anger, with no ostentation of refusal. "Farewell," she said. +"Perhaps we shall see each other after many years." + +<p>Trendellsohn, as he sat beside his young wife in the post-carriage +which took them out of the city, was silent till he had come nearly to +the outskirts of the town; and then he spoke. "Nina," he said, "I am +leaving behind me, and for ever, much that I love well." + +<p>"And it is for my sake," she said. "I feel it daily, hourly. It makes +me almost wish that you had not loved me." + +<p>"But I take with me that which I love infinitely better than all that +Prague contains. I will not, therefore, allow myself a regret. Though I +should never see the old city again, I will always look upon my going +as a good thing done." Nina could only answer him by caressing his +hand, and by making internal oaths that her very best should be done in +every moment of her life to make him contented with the lot he had +chosen. + +<p>There remains very little of the tale to be told — nothing, indeed, of +Nina's tale — and very little to be explained. Nina slept in peace at +Rebecca's house that night on which she had been rescued from death +upon the bridge — or, more probably, lay awake anxiously thinking what +might yet be her fate. She had been very near to death — so near that +she shuddered, even beneath the warmth of the bed-clothes, and with the +protection of her friend so close to her, as she thought of those long +dreadful minutes she had passed crouching over the river at the feet +of the statue. She had been very near to death, and for a while could +hardly realise the fact of her safety. She knew that she was glad +to have been saved; but what might come next was, at that moment, +all vague, uncertain, and utterly beyond her own control She hardly +ventured to hope more than that Anton Trendellsohn would not give her +up to Madame Zamenoy. If he did, she must seek the river again, or some +other mode of escape from that worst of fates. But Rebecca had assured +her of Anton's love, and in Rebecca's words she had a certain, though a +dreamy, faith. The night was long, but she wished it to be longer. To +be there and to feel that she was warm and safe was almost happiness +for her after the misery she had endured. + +<p>On the next day, and for a day or two afterwards, she was feverish and +she did not rise, but Rebecca's mother came to her, and Ruth — and at +last Anton himself. She never could quite remember how those few days +were passed, or what was said, or how it came to be arranged that she +was to stay for a while in Rebecca's house; that she was to stay there +for a long while — till such time as she should become a wife, and +leave it for a house of her own. She never afterwards had any clear +conception, though she very often thought of it all, how it came to be +a settled thing among the Jews around her, that she was to be Anton's +wife, and that Anton was to take her away from Prague. But she knew +that her lover's father had come to her, and that he had been kind, +and that there had been no reproach cast upon her for the wickedness +she had attempted. Nor was it till she found herself going to mass all +alone on the third Sunday that she remembered that she was still a +Christian, and that her lover was still a Jew. "It will not seem so +strange to you when you are away in another place," Rebecca said to her +afterwards. "It will be good for both of you that you should be away +from Prague." + +<p>Nor did Nina hear much of the attempts which the Zamenoys made to +rescue her from the hands of the Jews. Anton once asked her very +gravely whether she was quite certain that she did not wish to see +her aunt. "Indeed, I am," said Nina, becoming pale at the idea of +the suggested meeting. "Why should I see her? She has always been +cruel to me." Then Anton explained to her that Madame Zamenoy had made +a formal demand to see her niece, and had even lodged with the police a +statement that Nina was being kept in durance in the Jews' quarter; but +the accusation was too manifestly false to receive attention even when +made against a Jew, and Nina had reached an age which allowed her to +choose her own friends without interposition from the law. "Only," said +Anton, "it is necessary that you should know your own mind." + +<p>"I do know it," said Nina, eagerly. + +<p>And she saw Madame Zamenoy no more, nor her uncle Karil, nor her cousin +Ziska. Though she lived in the same city with them for three months +after the night on which she had been taken to Rebecca's house, she +never again was brought into contact with her relations. Lotta she once +saw, when walking in the street with Ruth; and Lotta too saw her, and +endeavoured to address her; but Nina fled, to the great delight of +Ruth, who ran with her; and Lotta Luxa was left behind at the street +corner. + +<p>I do not know that Nina ever had a more clearly-defined idea of the +trick that Lotta had played upon her, than was conveyed to her by the +sight of the deed as it was taken from her desk, and the knowledge that +Souchey had put her lover upon the track. She soon learned that she was +acquitted altogether by Anton, and she did not care for learning more. +Of course there had been a trick. Of course there had been deceit. Of +course her aunt and Lotta Luxa and Ziska, who was the worst of them +all, had had their hands in it! But what did it signify? They had +failed, and she had been successful. Why need she inquire farther? + +<p>But Souchey, who repented himself thoroughly of his treachery, spoke +his mind freely to Lotta Luxa. "No," said he, "not if you had ten times +as many florins, and were twice as clever, for you nearly drove me to +be the murderer of my mistress." +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr> +<br> +<br> +<pre> +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, NINA BALATKA *** + +This file should be named nnblt10h.htm or nnblt10h.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, nnblt11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, nnblt10ah.htm + + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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