"Who? Trendellsohn? I never saw the colour of his money yet, and do not wish to see it." "But he comes here--sometimes?" "Never, Lotta. I haven't seen Anton Trendellsohn within the doors these six months." "But she goes to him?" "Yes; she goes to him." "That's worse--a deal worse." "I told her how it was when I saw her trotting off so often to the Jews' quarter. 'You see too much of Anton Trendellsohn,' I said to her; but it didn't do any good." "You should have come to us, and have told us." "What, Madame there? I could never have brought myself to that; she is so upsetting, Lotta." "She is upsetting, no doubt; but she don't upset me. Why didn't you tell me, Souchey?" "Well, I thought that if I said a word to her, perhaps that would be enough. Who could believe that she would throw herself at once into a Jew's arms--such a fellow as Anton Trendellsohn, too, old enough to be her father, and she the bonniest girl in all Prague?" "Handsome is that handsome does, Souchey." "I say she's the sweetest girl in all Prague; and more's the pity she should have taken such a fancy as this." "She mustn't marry him, of course, Souchey." "Not if it can be helped, Lotta." "It must be helped. You and I must help it, if no one else can do so." "That's easy said, Lotta." "We can do it, if we are minded--that is, if you are minded. Only think what a thing it would be for her to be the wife of a Jew! Think of her soul, Souchey!" Souchey shuddered. He did not like being told of people's souls, feeling probably that the misfortunes of this world were quite heavy enough for a poor wight like himself, without any addition in anticipation of futurity. "Think of her soul, Souchey," repeated Lotta, who was at all points a good churchwoman. "It's bad enough any way," said Souchey. "And there's our Ziska would take her to-morrow in spite of the Jew." "Would he now?" "That he would, without anything but what she stands up in. And he'd behave very handsome to anyone that would help him." "He'd be the first of his name that ever did, then. I have known the time when old Balatka there, poor as he is now, would give a florin when Karil Zamenoy begrudged six kreutzers." "And what has come of such giving? Josef Balatka is poor, and Karil Zamenoy bids fair to be as rich as any merchant in Prague. But no matter about that. Will you give a helping hand? There is nothing I wouldn't do for you, Souchey, if we could manage this between us." "Would you now?" And Souchey drew near, as though some closer bargain might be practicable between them. "I would indeed; but, Souchey, talking won't do it." "What will do it?" Lotta paused a moment, looking round the room carefully, till suddenly her eyes fell on a certain article which lay on Nina's work-table. "What am I to do?" said Souchey, anxious to be at work with the prospect of so great a reward.