"It must take long first--very long," said Rebecca. "Even now, Fraeulein, I fear you will think that I am very intrusive in coming to you. I know that a Jewess has no right to push her acquaintance upon a Christian girl." The Jewess spoke very humbly of herself and of her people; but in every word she uttered there was a slight touch of irony which was not lost upon Nina. Nina could not but bethink herself that she was poor--so poor that everything around her, on her, and about her, told of poverty; while Rebecca was very rich, and showed her wealth even in the sombre garments which she had chosen for her morning visit. No idea of Nina's poverty had crossed Rebecca's mind, but Nina herself could not but remember it when she felt the sarcasm implied in her visitor's self-humiliation. "I am glad that you have come to me--very glad indeed, if you have come in friendship." Then she blushed as she continued, "To me, situated as I am, the friendship of a Jewish maiden would be a treasure indeed." "You intend to speak of--" "I speak of my engagement with Anton Trendellsohn. I do so with you because I know that you have heard of it. You tell me that Jews and Christians cannot come together in Prague, but I mean to marry a Jew. A Jew is my lover. If you will say that you will be my friend, I will love you indeed. Ruth Jacobi is my friend; but then Ruth is so young." "Yes, Ruth is very young. She is a child. She knows nothing." "A child's friendship is better than none." "Ruth is very young. She cannot understand. I too love Ruth Jacobi. I have known her since she was born. I knew and loved her mother. You do not remember Ruth Trendellsohn. No; your acquaintance with them is only of the other day." "Ruth's mother has been dead seven years," said Nina. "And what are seven years? I have known them for four-and-twenty." "Nay; that cannot be." "But I have. That is my age, and I was born, so to say, in their arms. Ruth Trendellsohn was ten years older than I--only ten." "And Anton?" "Anton was a year older than his sister; but you know Anton's age. Has he never told you his age?" "I never asked him; but I know it. There are things one knows as a matter of course. I remember his birthday always." "It has been a short always." "No, not so short. Two years is not a short time to know a friend." "But he has not been betrothed to you for two years?" "No; not betrothed to me." "Nor has he loved you so long; nor you him?" "For him, I can only speak of the time when he first told me so."