I stood sunning myself the next day on the same pine bridge, looking
down on the swift current, and regretting there was no rail to lean on
as one watched the fascinating flow of the beautiful river. It struck
me as inordinately blue,--perhaps, I analyzed, by contrast with the
long, sinuous weeds which here glided and tossed in the current like
green water-snakes. These flexible greens reminded me of the Wonder
Rabbi's eyes and his emerald seal; and I turned, with some sudden
premonition of danger, just in time to dodge the attack of the same
three ruffians, who must have been about to push me over.
In an instant I had whipped out my pistol from my hip pocket, and
cried, "Stand, or I fire!"
The trio froze instantly in odd attitudes, which was lucky, as my
pistol was unloaded. They looked almost comical in their air of abject
terror. Their narrow, fanatical foreheads, with ringlets of piety
hanging down below the velvet, fur-trimmed hats, showed them more
accustomed to murdering texts than men. Had I not been still
smouldering over yesterday's trick, I could have pitied them for the
unwelcome job thrust upon their unskilled and apparently even
unweaponed hands by the machinations of the Poison God and the orders
of Ben David. One of them seemed quite elderly, and one quite young.
The middle-aged one had a goitre, and perhaps that made me fancy him
the most sinister, and keep my eye most warily upon him.
"Sons of Belial," I said, recalling a biblical phrase that might be
expected to prick, "why do you seek my life?"
Two of them cowered under my gaze, but the elderly _Chassid_, seeing
the shooting was postponed, spoke up boldly: "We are no sons of
Belial. You are the begotten of Satan; you are the arch enemy of
Israel."
"I?" I protested in my turn. "I am a plain God-fearing son of
Abraham."
"A precious scion of the Patriarch's seed, who would delay the coming
of the Messiah!"
Again that incomprehensible accusation.
"You speak riddles," I said.
"How so? Did you not tell Ben David--his horn be exalted--that you
knew all concerning Bethulah? Then must you know that of her
immaculacy will the Messiah be born, one ninth of Ab."
A flood of light burst upon me--mystic, yet clarifying; blinding, yet
dissipating my darkness. My pistol drooped in my hand. My head swam
with a whirl of strange thoughts, and Bethulah, already divine to me,
took on a dazzling aureola, sailed away into some strange supernatural
ether.
"Have we not been in exile long enough?" said the youngest. "Shall a
godless stranger tamper with the hope of generations?"
"But whence this mad hope?" I said, struggling under the mystic
obsession of his intensity.
"Mad?" began the first, his eyes spitting fire; but the younger
interrupted him.
"Is not our saint the sole scion of the house of David? Is not his
daughter the last of the race?"
"And what if she is?"
"Then who but she can be the destined mother of Israel's Redeemer?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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