COUNT PODSTADSKY'S ESCORT.
"You promise that he shall remain but five minutes in my room, father?"
said Rachel.
"I give you my word that he shall stay just long enough for me to
complete my preparations to escort him home."
"What mean you, dear father? At least tell me what you intend to do."
"I merely intend a jest, dear child," said Eskeles Flies, laughing. "A
jest which shall announce to the people of Vienna that the Jewish banker
has no desire to receive the visits of the Christian count. Ah, eleven
o'clock! The hour for your interview. Farewell, my daughter, your lover
comes."
The banker disappeared through a tapestry-door, and scarcely had he
closed it when Count Podstadsky was announced.
Rachel had so unconquerable an aversion to Podstadsky that, instead of
going forward to greet him, she actually stepped back and raised her
hand as if to ward him off. But the count was not easily repulsed.
"At last, my angel," said he, "my hour of happiness is here--at last you
are mine. And I am the happiest of mortals."
"Who tells you that I am yours?" said Rachel, still retreating.
"Yourself, my houri, when you consent to receive me alone. How shall I
prove to you the extent of my adoration?"
"Oh, you can easily do that," said Rachel, "by becoming a Jew for the
love of me."
At the idea of his becoming a Jew, Podstadsky burst out into a fit of
laughter; but Rachel affected not to hear it.
"You know that by becoming a Jew," continued she, "you would be at
liberty to marry me, and inherit my father's ducats."
At mention of her father's wealth Podstadsky felt that he had laughed
too soon. The thought of the banker's millions made him feel rather
grave. They were worth any thing short of such a lese noblesse as
apostasy.
"What to me are your father's ducats?" cried he, vehemently. "I love
nothing here but his daughter, and my love is sufficient for me. I ask
nothing but the priceless treasure of your heart. Come, sweet one,
come!"
"Away with you!" cried Rachel, unable to endure his insolence longer.
"If I have permitted you to sully the purity of my home with your
presence, it was that I might tell you once for all how I despise you!
Now, begone, sir."
"And allow me to accompany you home," said a mocking voice behind; and
as Podstadsky turned with a start to see whence it came, he met the
fiery black eyes of Eskeles Flies, who approached with a tall wax-light
in his hand.
The count trembled inwardly, but recovering his self-possession, he
asked, with a haughty smile: "Are we in the carnival, and do you
represent the Israelitish god of love?"
"Yes, count," said the banker, "and his torch shall light you home, lest
you stumble on your way, and fall into the pit of dishonor. Come and
receive the ovation prepared for you."
So saying, Eskeles Flies opened the door, and the count looked out with
dismay.
The long hall was lined on both sides with the liveried servants of the
banker, each holding in his hand a wax-light, whose yellow flame flared
to and fro, as the air from the open door below came in fitful puffs up
the wide marble staircase.
"Come," said the banker, advancing with his flambeau. Podstadsky
hesitated. If his sense of honor was dead, his vanity was not; and it
winced at the slightest touch of ridicule. Was there no escape from this
absurd escort? He looked around and saw no hope of rescue. Behind him
Rachel had locked the door, and the servants were so closely ranged
together that it was vain to attempt a passage through that living wall
of fire. He had no alternative but to laugh derisively and step into the
ranks. The procession moved on, and gathered strength as it moved; for
on the staircase in the lower hall, and at the front of the house, they
were joined by throng after throng, each man of which, like the
commander-in-chief, was armed with a flambeau. This was bad enough of
itself, but the count's body-guard were all in a titter, and every man
enjoyed the jest except himself.
By this time they had reached the street, and what was the rage and
mortification of the proud Austrian grandee, when he saw that curiosity
had drawn thither a concourse of people, who kept up with the
procession, wondering what on earth could be the meaning of it!
[Footnote: This scene is historical. See "Letters of a French
Traveller," vol. i., p. 405. Frieders "Letters from Vienna," vol. ii.,
p. 30.]
"See," cried one, "Herr Eskeles Flies has caught a marten in his
hen-roost and is lighting him home."
"And the marten is the fine Count Podstadsky-Liechtenstein," cried
another. "I know him. He rejoices in the title of 'woman-killer.' Only
look how he sneaks along as the tribe of Israel are dogging him home!"
"The Israelites are escorting him home," jeered the multitude, and the
procession moved on, never stopping until it reached the count's own
hotel. Once there, Eskeles Flies, in a loud voice, bade him adieu, and
requested to know whether he should accompany him farther.
"No," replied Count Podstadsky, trembling with passion, "and you shall
answer to me for this outrage. We shall see whether the unbelieving Jew
can mock the Christian with impunity!"
"Accuse me before the public tribunals," answered the banker, "and I
shall enter MY complaint against you."
"Indeed!" said Podstadsky, contemptuously. "The Jew will be allowed to
accuse an Austrian nobleman, will he?"
"Yes, by the God of Israel, he will," replied Eskeles Flies, so loud
that his voice was heard by the people around. "Yes, thanks to the
emperor, his subjects before the law are all equal, and Jew and
Christian are alike amenable to its judgments. Long live Joseph the
Second, the father of his people!"
"Long live the father of his people!" shouted the fickle multitude; and
glad that the attention of the crowd had been diverted from himself,
Count Podstadsky-Liechtenstein slunk away to ruminate over the
mortifying occurrences of the morning.