"Pish! Did the shiksah keep it? Even if she meant to do--and who can trust a Gentile?--was she there, day and night? Did Emendant not tell thee that he saw her at the Coronation?" "Well, yes, he did," admitted Abraham, with evident reluctance. "And had she Belasez there, tied to her apron-string, with a bandage over her eyes? Son of Ursel, wilt thou never open thine? Who knows how many young gallants may have chattered to her then? `When the cat is away--' thou knowest. Not that the shiksah was much of a cat when she was there, I'll be bound. Dost thou not care if the child be stolen from us? And when they have stolen her heart and her soul, they may as well take her body. It won't make much difference then." "Licorice--" Belasez listened more intently than ever. There was a world of tender regret in Abraham's voice, and she knew that it was not for Licorice. "Licorice,"--he said, and stopped. "Go on," responded her mother sharply, "unless thou wert after some foolery, as is most likely." "Licorice, hast thou forgotten that Sabbath even, when thou broughtest home--" "I wish thou wouldst keep thy tongue off names. I have as good a memory as thou, though it is not lined like thine with asses' skin." "And dost thou remember what thou toldest me that she said to thy reproaches?" "Well, what then?" "`What then?' O Licorice!" "I do wish thou wouldst speak sense!--what art thou driving at?" "Thou art hard to please, wife. If I speak plainly thou wilt not hear me out, and if I only hint thou chidest me for want of plainness. Well! if thou canst not see `what then,' never mind. I thought those sorrowful words of my poor child might have touched thy heart. I can assure thee, they did mine, when I heard of them. They have never been out of mine ears since." It seemed plain to Belasez that her mother was being rebuked for want of motherly tenderness, and, as she doubted not, towards Anegay. This mysterious person, then, must have been a sister of whom she had never heard,--probably much older than herself. "What a lot of soft down must have been used up to make thine heart!" was the cynical reply of Licorice. "I cannot help it, Licorice. I have her eyes ever before me--hers, and his. It is of no use scolding me--I cannot help it. And if it be as thou thinkest, I cannot break the child's heart. I shall not speak to Hamon, nor the Cohen." "Faint-hearted Gentile!" blazed forth Licorice. "Get it over, wife," said Abraham, quietly. "I will try to find out if thou hast guessed rightly; though it were rather work for thee than me, if--well, I will do my best. But suppose I should find that she has given her maiden heart to some Gentile,--what am I to do then?"