"You see things too sombrely, Elkish. There have always been people of high position, even Christians, that have visited us." "Those were original Goyim, dyed in the wool, not such as he, and not related, God forgive me that I must admit it. And when they came, it was for the good dinners, and the fine champagne direct from France. I ought to know, for I paid the bills. Those real Cognacs, and the cigars with fancy bands! A small matter! Herr Geheimrat can well afford it. Why object? We merely shrug our shoulders--and despise them. When they came and made genuflexions, and were never too tired to find us, then they wanted money--much money--for charity, and for monuments, and for foundations, and for all sorts of things--even for churches. Why not? The Jew has always been good enough for that. I never dissuaded your father from such gifts. He still takes my advice occasionally; and when he says, 'I am well advised, Elkish,' then he merely means, 'What is your opinion of the matter, Elkish?' And I have always thought, there is no harm in giving, and surely not in taking. And when those other fellows, the artists, came and told your mother of their paintings and their busts, and invited her to their studios; and made music to the tune of one thousand marks an evening, and some concert tickets besides, I never protested, but I did some thinking, and I wondered what Mr. Mendel Benas of Lissa would have said, had he seen where our good money goes to. But we've grown so great, why should we not give? The time came when they paid us back more than we need. That's all right. Perhaps not for the individual, for he grieved, like your father or like Friedheim or Freudenthal, or all the great folk among the Jews; but it was good for the rest. The Christians began to think that they have a right to be considered, and _we_ began to feel we were what we are--Jews." When Elkish flew into a passion, it was not so easy to calm him. Hugo therefore did not interrupt his harangue, a mixture of indignation, scorn, and disappointment. With most of it he himself agreed, and even though he viewed events from a more modern standpoint, yet at bottom he held the same opinions as the embittered old man. It did not seem strange to Hugo that Elkish had dropped into his native jargon, for the sake of emphasis. He always did so when excited. "And therefore I always said," he continued, after a short pause, "'Mr. Benas,' I said, 'as you like.' But now I do not say 'as you like.' For this fellow wants not only our money, but our child, too,--our darling Rita." His voice turned hoarse, and the last words sounded like a plaint. "Elkish!" "Yes, yes, Hugo, that's what it is! Why did he never come before? He has been in Berlin a long time, and he's always known who Joshua Benas was, and in what relation he stood to him." "But a special occasion brought him to us, Uncle Leopold's birthday--"