"How unjust Rivkoly was to you! She once said"--here the speaker laughed a little melancholy laugh--"that you were the _Satan Mekatrig_ in person." "Poor afflicted woman!" said his friend, with pitying scorn. "In this nineteenth century, when among the wise the belief in the gods has died out, there are yet fools alive who believe in the devil. But she could only have meant it metaphorically." The sick man shook his head. "She said the evil influence--of course, it seemed evil to her--you wielded over her thoughts, and I suppose mine, too, was more than human--was supernatural." "Oh, I don't say I'm not more strong-minded than most people. Of course I am, or I should be howling hymns at the present moment. But why does a soldier catch fire under the eye of his captain? What magnetism enables one man to bewitch a nation? Why does one friend's unspoken thought find unuttered echo in another's? Go to Science, study Mesmerism, Hypnotism, Thought-Transference, and you will learn all about Me and my influence." "Yes, Rivkoly never had any idea of anything outside her prayer-book. Rivkoly--" "Mention not her name to me," interrupted the hunchback harshly. "A woman who deserts her husband--" "She swore to go if I blew out the _Yom Kippur_ light. And I did." "A woman who goes out of her wits because her husband gets into his!" sneered the other. "Doubtless her superstitious fancy conjured up all sorts of sights in the dark. Ho! ho! ho!" and he laughed a ghastly laugh. "Happily she will never come back. She's evidently able to get along without you. Probably she has another husband more to her pious taste." Moshé raised himself convulsively. "Don't say that again!" he screamed. "_My_ Rivkoly!" Then a violent cough shook him and his white lips were reddened with blood. The cold eyes of the hunchback glittered strangely as he saw the blood. "At any rate," he said, more gently, "she cannot break the mighty oath she sware. She will never come back." "No, she will never come back," the sick man groaned hopelessly. "But it was cruel of me to drive her away. Would to G--" The hunchback hastily put his hand on the speaker's mouth, and tenderly wiped away the blood. "When I am better," said Moshé, with sudden resolution, "I will seek her out: perhaps she is starving." "As you will. You know she can always earn her bread and water at the cap-making. But you are your own master. When you are rid of this sickness--which will be soon--you shall go and seek her out and bring her to abide with you." The words rang sardonically through the chamber. "How good you are!" Moshé murmured, as he sank back relieved. The hunchback leaned over the bed till his gigantic brow almost touched the sick man's, till his wonderful eyes lay almost on his. "And yet you will not let me hasten on your recovery in the way I proposed to you." "No, no," Moshé said, trembling all over. "What matters if I lie here a week more or less?"