Who can read a man? Who knows all that is in him? I began to think that I might have before me a Christian weasel who stole into Jewish hen-houses. He is too indignant about the fate of Jewish daughters; he is too long looking for matches; he is ashamed of something. Why will he "not be long about it?" Why won't he tell me the whole story in detail? Who knows what part he played in it, if not the old part of the serpent in Paradise? Why won't his conscience let him speak out? There it is again--a Jewess--then, why not? At one time it was a merit to christen her; now the approved thing is to incite her to rebel against her God, her parents, her husband, her whole life! It is called liberalism, entering a prison and letting in a breath of fresh air, a few rays of sunlight; awaking the prisoner, giving him a few gingerbreads and then going--not seeing the prisoner grind his teeth as the rusty key turns in the lock, or how his face darkens, how convulsively he breathes, how he tears his hair; or else, if he still _can_ weep, how he waters with bitter tears the mouldy bread at which the mice have been gnawing while he slept. To waken the dark, slumbering, and oppressed heart of a Jewish woman strikes a romantic chord; to fan the flame of unknown or smouldering feelings; to kiss and then--good-bye! bolt the door! she must make the best of it! We have been slaked for so long with bitterness, gall, and hatred, that now, when we are offered bread and salt, we feel sure it must be poisoned--even though the hand that holds it out to us shakes with pity; even though there are tears in the eyes, and words of comfort on the lips. It is so hard to believe in it all. For we also are infected; we also have succumbed to the plague. Meanwhile Polnivski had found his matches, and I unwillingly accepted a cigarette. We smoked. The chaise was filled with blue, smoky rings. I watched them, followed them with my eyes, and thought: Thus vanish both good and evil. * * * * * "We made each other's acquaintance," said my Christian neighbor, "but nothing came of it in the way of closer friendship." "Why not?" I asked, astonished. "We went on looking at each other like the best of friends, but _she_ could not come to us, nor we, to her. "She had but to try it! It was a most orthodox town, where everyone but the Feldscher and the ladies' tailor wore kaftans. And there was something besides, I don't know what, that kept us back. "Then the worst misfortune befell me that can befall a man. "The apothecary's shop brought in next to nothing, and my wife began to fail in health. "I saw more clearly every day that she was declining, and there was no hope of saving her. She needed Italy, and I could not even provide her with enough to eat; and, you know, when people are in that state of health, they are full of hope and do not believe in their illness.