'I scarcely know,' said the Armenian. 'I was thinking of that when you came in. I don't see anything that I can do, save going on in my former course. After all, I was perhaps too moderate in making the possession of two hundred thousand pounds the summit of my ambition; there are many individuals in this town who possess three times that sum, and are not yet satisfied. No, I think I can do no better than pursue the old career; who knows but I may make the two hundred thousand three or four?--there is already a surplus, which is an encouragement; however, we will consider the matter over a goblet of wine; I have observed of late that you have become partial to my Cyprus.' And it came to pass that, as we were seated over the Cyprus wine, we heard a knock at the door. 'Adelante!' cried the Armenian; whereupon the door opened, and in walked a somewhat extraordinary figure--a man in a long loose tunic of a stuff striped with black and yellow; breeches of plush velvet, silk stockings, and shoes with silver buckles. On his head he wore a high-peaked hat; he was tall, had a hooked nose, and in age was about fifty. 'Welcome, Rabbi Manasseh,' said the Armenian. 'I know your knock--you are welcome; sit down.' 'I am welcome,' said Manasseh, sitting down; 'he--he--he! you know my knock--I bring you money--_bueno_!' There was something very peculiar in the sound of that bueno--I never forgot it. Thereupon a conversation ensued between Rabbi Manasseh and the Armenian, in a language which I knew to be Spanish, though a peculiar dialect. It related to a mercantile transaction. The Rabbi sighed heavily as he delivered to the other a considerable sum of money. 'It is right,' said the Armenian, handing a receipt. 'It is right; and I am quite satisfied.' 'You are satisfied--you have taken money. _Bueno_, I have nothing to say against your being satisfied.' 'Come, Rabbi,' said the Armenian, 'do not despond; it may be your turn next to take money; in the meantime, can't you be persuaded to taste my Cyprus?' 'He--he--he! senor, you know I do not love wine. I love Noah when he is himself; but, as Janus, I love him not. But you are merry; _bueno_, you have a right to be so.' 'Excuse me,' said I; 'but does Noah ever appear as Janus?' 'He--he--he!' said the Rabbi, 'he only appeared as Janus once--una vez quando estuvo borracho; which means--' 'I understand,' said I; 'when he was . . .' and I drew the side of my right hand sharply across my left wrist. 'Are you one of our people?' said the Rabbi. 'No,' said I, 'I am one of the Goyim; but I am only half enlightened. Why should Noah be Janus when he was in that state?' 'He--he--he! you must know that in Lasan akhades wine is janin.' 'In Armenian, kini,' said I; 'in Welsh, gwin; Latin, vinum; but do you think that Janus and janin are one?' 'Do I think? Don't the commentators say so? Does not Master Leo Abarbenel say so in his _Dialogues of Divine Love_'?