“I am. Use is second nature, you know, and I am willing to try and set a good example. But I am a broad-minded man of the world, and I know that that world does not end at my own horizon. People of different temperaments need various forms, even of the same religion. It is impossible for an Englishman like yourself, for instance, to beat your breast like the Polish Jew.” Montella nodded. “You are a sensible man, doctor,” he said, with enthusiasm. “But what do you advise?” “I hardly know. The bulk of the people in Palestine are with Ben Yetzel to a man. It is only the few emancipated, deep-thinking men like ourselves who have any thought of rebellion. For the present we must just watch and wait to see how things go. You will see Ben Yetzel, of course, while you are here?” “My people in Haifa expect it of me. I suppose I must.” “Then be careful what you say to him. He is an adept at catching one in one’s words. He loves to condemn people out of their own mouths; it is a form of amusement in which he delights.” “You may rely on me to be discreet,” returned Montella, with a smile. “I can be as stolid as the Sphinx when I please.” They parted for the night, and the young man went to his room with a light step. To his surprise he found Patricia still half dressed, her willowy figure enveloped in a loose silken wrapper. Sitting with her elbows resting on the ledge of the open casement, she looked like some frail sprite in the light of the moon. Montella went up to her, and tenderly touched the loosened tendrils of her hair. “I thought you were in bed long ago, sweet,” he said. She turned towards him with an affectionate gesture. “I have been talking to Anne,” was her reply. “It is just a month since her grandchild died. She seemed very much upset about it, poor woman, and I think it has done her good to tell me. I have been trying to console her.” “At the expense of your beauty sleep?” “I do not feel inclined for sleep; I am not so tired as I was an hour ago.” “But you must sleep, or you will be fit for nothing to-morrow,” he urged gently. “What were you gazing at so intently out of the window?” “Jerusalem!” she replied, and the words fell almost musically from her lips. “I look through this casement window, and I see the city stretched out before me, with its white domes and flat roofs, and a kind of spell comes over me as I gaze. See how solitary it looks, surrounded by those savage hills, and yet it is the centre of the three great religions of the world, and the goal of pilgrims from the uttermost ends of the earth. Even I, who am neither a Jewess by birth nor scarcely a Christian by faith, cannot help feeling thrilled. Eight times destroyed, it has come through fire and blood, and still remains; even Rome cannot boast of such a record as this.” Montella smiled.