“Dearest Olga, what you say is well put, but I cannot recognize it as correct. I was baptized against my will; my consent was insincere and superficial. For a time I could disguise my real sentiments; to-day I can do so no more. I am a Jew, in faith as well as in blood. I have seen again my parents, and the sight of them has revived all my olden feelings, all the childish love for my faith. No longer will I wear the mask, will I play the part of being Christian. I am determined to be a Jew. I intend to renounce all my offices and dignities and flee to a land where I may be at liberty to live according to the dictates of my conscience as such. My wife, too, should be a Jewess, should share my beliefs and hopes. Olga, can you go with me; can you accept our Jewish faith in one God and His holy law; can you resolve to share my lot in my unknown future home and be a true partner to me for life and for eternity? If you can, you will fill my heart with joy; but I do not urge you to make the sacrifice. If you choose to remain in your faith and your native land, you will be entitled to a legal divorce. I would leave you all my property and possessions and will never trouble you again. Speak, Olga, and tell me your decision?” When Sergei had concluded he gazed again into his wife’s face, anxious to know by its expression the manner in which she had received his words. What he saw surprised him. He had expected to see there the expression of anger or displeasure or, at best, surprise, uncertainty, and hesitation. Instead, he beheld the beautiful countenance of Olga, all radiant with a strange and inexplicable joy. She was smiling a smile of triumph, almost of exultation; but there was withal a solemnity in her eyes which showed that there was no levity in her joy, but that it was based upon some profoundly earnest sentiment. While he was gazing at her, almost stupefied at her unexpected look, Olga began to speak. “Sergei,” said she, “you have told me your secret. I shall tell you mine. You belong to a proscribed race; so do I, and am now really your sister in faith. You are a Hebrew. I descend from the Subotnikis, those sincere seekers after God whom the renowned Zacharia of Tambow converted to Judaism some centuries ago. As a student of Russian history, you know that the emperors persecuted the “Judaizing heretics,” as my people were called, with even greater cruelty and persistency than they did yours. Imprisonment, deprivation of civil rights, and banishment to remote sections of the empire, and even harsher punishments were inflicted upon them. “Under these circumstances thousands of our brethren fell away completely; others fled to foreign countries where they openly professed Judaism; and others nominally adhered to the Greek Church, but in their hearts secretly cherished their faith in the one God of Israel and endeavored to fulfil His holy law as far as in their ignorance and their difficult circumstances they could.