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.