A PROCLAMATION OF WAR.
On Monday morning Aaron commenced business. In the shop window was a
display of miscellaneous articles ticketed at low prices, and Aaron
took his place behind his counter, ready to dispose of them, ready to
argue and bargain, and to advance money on any other articles on which
a temporary loan was required. He did not expect a rush of customers,
being aware that pawnbroking was a tree of very small beginnings, a
seed which needed time before it put forth flourishing branches. The
security was sure, the profits accumulative. He was confident of the
result. Human necessity, even human frailty, was on his side; all he
had to do was to be fair in his dealings.
In the course of the day he had a good many callers; some to make
inquiries, some to offer different things in pledge. Of these latter
the majority were children, with whom he declined to negotiate.
"Who sent you?"
"Mother."
"Go home and tell her she must come herself."
He would only do business with grown-up people. Setting before himself
a straight and honest rule of life, he was not the man to wander from
it for the sake of a little profit.
Of the other description of callers a fair proportion entered the shop
out of idle curiosity. He had pleasant words for all, and gave change
for sixpences and shillings with as much courtesy as if each
transaction was a gain to him--as, indeed, it was, for no man or woman
who entered with an unfavorable opinion of him (influenced by certain
rumors to his discredit which had been circulated by Mr. Whimpole)
departed without having their minds disturbed by his urbanity and
genial manners. "I don't see any harm in him," was the general verdict
from personal evidence; "he's as nice a spoken man as I ever set eyes
on."
On the evening of this first day he expressed his satisfaction at the
business he had done.
"Our venture will turn out well," he said to Rachel. "The flag of
fortune is waving over us."
It was eight o'clock, and although he scarcely expected further
custom, he kept the gas burning in the shop window.
"Light is an attraction," he observed; "it is better than an
advertisement in the papers."
The evening was fine; he and Rachel were sitting in the parlor,
with the intermediate door open. Aaron was smoking a handsome
silver-mounted pipe and making up his accounts, while his wife was
busy with her needle. Satan could never have put anything in the shape
of mischief in the way of these two pairs of industrious hands, for
they were never idle, except during the Sabbath and the fasts and the
holidays, and then it was not idleness, but rest divinely ordained.
The silver-mounted pipe was one of Aaron's most precious possessions,
it being his beloved wife's gift to him on his last birthday; he would
not have sold it for ten times its weight in gold. At peace with the
world and with themselves, they conversed happily as they worked; but
malignant influences were at work of which they were soon to feel the
shock.
Aaron had put his account books in the safe, and was turning the key,
when the sound of loud voices outside his shop reached their ears. The
voices were those of children, male and female, who were exercising
their lungs in bass, treble, and falsetto. Only one word did they
utter:
"Jew! Jew! Jew!"
Rachel started up in alarm, her hand at her heart. Her face was white,
her limbs were trembling.
"Jew! Jew! Jew!"
Aaron put the key of the safe in his pocket, and laid down his pipe.
His countenance was not troubled, but his brows were puckered.
"Jew! Jew! Jew!"
"It is wicked--it is wicked!" cried Rachel, wringing her hands. "Oh,
how can they be so cruel!"
Aaron's countenance instantly cleared; he had to think, to act, for
her as well as himself. With fond endearments he endeavored to soothe
her, but her agitation was profound, and while these cries of implied
opprobrium continued she could not school herself to calmness. Not for
herself did she fear; it was against her dear, her honored husband
that this wicked demonstration was made, and she dreaded that he would
be subjected to violence. To her perturbed mind the voices seemed to
proceed from men and women; to Aaron's clearer senses they were the
voices of children, and he divined the source of the insult. Rachel
sobbed upon his breast, and clasped him close to protect him.
"Rachel, my love, my life!" he said in a tone of tender firmness, "be
calm, I entreat you. There is nothing to fear. Have you lost
confidence in your husband? Would you increase my troubles, and make
the task before me more difficult than it is? On my word as a man, on
my faith as a Jew, I will make friends of these foolish children, in
whose outcries there is no deep-seated venom--I declare it, none. They
do not know what they are doing. I will make them respect me; I will
enrich them with a memory which, when they are men and women, will
make them think of the past with shame. I will make my enemies respect
me. If you will help me by your silence and patience I will turn their
bitterness into thistledown, which I can blow away with a breath. Take
heart, my beloved, dear life of my life! Trust to me, and in the
course of a few days you shall see a wonder. There--let me kiss your
tears away. That is my own Rachel, whose little finger is more
precious to me than all the world beside. Good, good, my own dear
wife! Do you think it is a tragedy that is being enacted by those
youngsters? No, no, it is a comedy. You shall see, you shall see!"
She was comforted by his words; she drew strength from his strength;
she looked at him in wonder as he began to laugh even while he was
caressing her, and her wonder increased when she saw that his eyes
fairly shone with humor.
"Have no fear, my heart," he said, "have not the slightest fear. I am
going to meet them--not with javelin and spear; with something still
more powerful, and with good temper for my shield."
"Aaron," she whispered, "are you sure there is no danger?"
"If I were not sure," he answered merrily, "I would remain snug in
this room. I am not a man of war; I am a man of peace, and with
peaceful weapons will I scatter the enemy. For your dear sake I would
not expose myself to peril, for do I not know that if I were hurt your
pain would be greater than mine? It is my joy to know it. You will
remain quietly here?"
"I will, dear husband; but you will not go into the street?"
"I shall go no farther than the street door; I shall not need to go
farther."
He stopped to fill his pipe and light it, and then, with tender
kisses, and a smile on his lips, he left her.
When he made his appearance at the shop door there was a sudden hush,
and a sudden scuttling away of the twenty or thirty children who had
congregated to revile him. He remained stationary at the door, smoking
his pipe and gazing benignantly at them.
Their fears of chastisement dispelled by his peaceful attitude, they
stopped, looked over their shoulders, and slowly and warily came back,
keeping, however, at a safe distance from him. They found their voices
again.
"Jew? Jew! Jew!"
"Good children! good children!" said Aaron in a clear, mellifluous
voice. Then he put his pipe to his mouth again, and continued to
smoke.
"Jew! Jew! Jew!"
"Good little boys and girls," said Aaron. "Bravo! bravo! You deserve a
reward. Every laborer is worthy of his hire."
He drew from his pocket three or four pennies, which, with smiling
nods of his head, he threw among them.
Instantly came into play other passions--greed, avarice, the
determination not to be defrauded of their due. Falling upon the
money, they scrambled and fought for it. Aaron threw among them two or
three more pennies, and their ardor increased. They scratched, they
kicked, they tumbled over each other, blows were exchanged. Those who
had secured pennies scampered away with them, and with loud and
vengeful cries the penniless scampered after them. The next moment
they had all disappeared.
Shaking with internal laughter, Aaron remained on his steps a while,
purring at his pipe; then he put up the shutters, locked the street
door, and rejoined his wife.
"My dear," he said, and his voice was so gay that her heart beat with
joy, "that is the end of the first act. They will not come back
to-night."