'I am coming to that. Only you were always so impatient, Vroomkely. When I was cutting you a piece of _Kuchen_, you would snatch greedily at the crumbs as they fell. You see Yossel is not made of the same clay as you and I. By an oversight the Almighty sent an angel into the world instead of a man, but seeing His mistake at the last moment, the All-High broke his wings short and left him a hunchback. But when Yossel's father made a match for him with Leah, the rich corn-factor's daughter, the silly girl, when she was introduced to the bridegroom, could see only the hump, and scandalously refused to carry out the contract. And Yossel is so proud that ever since that day he curled himself up into his hump, and nursed a hatred for all women.' 'How can you say that, Yenta?' Yossel broke in again. 'Why else did you refuse my money?' the _Bube_ retorted. 'Twice, ten, twenty times I asked him to go to Palestine with me. But obstinate as a pig he keeps grunting "I can't--I've got no money." Sooner than I should pay his fare he'd have seen us both die here.' The artist collapsed upon the bundle; astonishment, anger, and self-ridicule made an emotion too strong to stand under. So this was all his Machiavellian scheming had achieved--to bring about the very marriage it was meant to avert! He had dug a pit and fallen into it himself. All this would indeed amuse Rozenoffski and Leopold Barstein. He laughed bitterly. 'Nay, it was no laughing matter,' said the _Bube_ indignantly. 'For I know well how Yossel longed to go with me to die in Jerusalem. And at last the All-High sent him the fare, and he was able to come to me and invite me to go with him.' Here the artist became aware that Yossel's eyes and lips were signalling silence to him. As if, forsooth, one published one's good deeds! He had yet to learn on whose behalf the hunchback was signalling. 'So! You came into a fortune?' he asked Yossel gravely. Yossel looked the picture of misery. The _Bube_ unconsciously cut through the situation. 'A wicked man gave it to him,' she explained, 'to pray away his sins in Jerusalem.' 'Indeed!' murmured the artist. 'Anyone you know?' 'Heaven has spared her the pain of knowing him,' ambiguously interpolated her anxious protector. 'I don't even know his name,' added the _Bube_. 'Yossel keeps it hidden.' 'One must not shame a fellow-man,' Yossel urged. 'The sin of that is equal to the sin of shedding blood.' The grandmother nodded her head approvingly. 'It is enough that the All-High knows his name. But for such an Epicurean much praying will be necessary. It will be a long work. And your first prayer, Yossel, must be that you shall not die very soon, else the labourer will not be worthy of his hire.' Yossel took her yellow withered hand as in a lover's clasp. 'Be at peace, Yenta! He will be redeemed if only by _your_ merits. Are we not one?' ELIJAH'S GOBLET ELIJAH'S GOBLET I