“Imbeciles, that’s what you are, all of you! You can go to the devil, you and your Christianity! Hasn’t Loisl always been good to our Annerl? Didn’t he give her a muskrat coat, doesn’t he raise the children like princes? You should thank God she got a Jew, and not a fellow like you, a drunkard and rowdy!” “I ain’t a-goin’ to Jerusalem,” Lintschi now wailed, while Hans grasped the opportunity to snatch the sugar roll from grandfather’s plate. When the uproar was at its height Pepik, the cook, came in, resolutely cleared the table, and calmly announced: “I’m goin’! I’m goin’ to marry my Isidor, as is a clerk in the co-op’rative store, an’ if he has to get out I’ll get out with him. I wouldn’t care if the dep’ties and the Chancer would all hang theirselves.” After the excitement had died down Herr Corroni gave a calm exposition of the situation. “Of course I’m not even dreaming of emigrating to Palestine, if for no other reason than that they wouldn’t let me in, since I’m a converted Jew. No; I have a brother in Hamburg,--Uncle Eduard, you know; and though he is angry with me because of my conversion, he won’t leave me in the lurch now. Jews don’t forget family ties, thank God,” (these words were punctuated by a cutting glance at Schneuzel). “And there I will build up a new future for myself and my family--unless Annerl would prefer to stay with you.” Whereupon Frau Anna, tired and faded as is usual after fifteen years of married life, suddenly recovered the pink cheeks of her youth, and, fondly throwing her arms about the neck of Alois Corroni, (née Sami Cohn), kissed him as a bride kisses her bridegroom, and really looked like a girl again. And finally Herr Schneuzel, desperate and altogether upset, had to promise to give his son-in-law a million to take along to Hamburg as a sort of cornerstone for his new future. In the afternoon Schneuzel, member of the National Assembly, the Municipal Council, and the Board of Overseers of the Poor, went alone to a Sievering bar, and began to fight with a crowd that was still shouting “Throw out the Jews!” And he broke his bottle over the head of one of the shouting celebrants, wherefor he received a most terrible thrashing. CHAPTER III. AT CLOSING TIME A talk in a niche beside a window of the Café Wögerer, opposite the Stock Exchange, between Herr Strauss, proprietor of a banking house, and his nephew, Siegfried Steiner, a medical student. Similar conversations were taking place at every table; and on this day, far from being boisterous, they were carried on almost inaudibly, with much gesturing. The young man was shaking his uncle’s hand. “I thank you, dear Uncle, for promising to take me to London with you. That’s a great consolation for me, for, between ourselves--Jerusalem--never! Not for me! Nothing but Jews--I can’t imagine it!”