... On the following Tuesday evening he went to the rich widow's house, which we found grandly decorated for the evening's entertainment. The marriage ceremony had been performed, so that every one was waiting for the dancing to begin. Our hostess met us at the ball-room door and received us more than graciously. She wore a dress of heavy yellow silk, and above that a pale-green velvet mantle; and the well-assorted jeweler's shop (for that is the only way to describe it) that she had hung about her, rattled with every movement she made. "You will find everything arranged as it is done at Lemberg," she said to us, with a beaming smile; "for when I was at Lemberg, I learned the proper way to do _les horreurs_ as hostess!" We went into the dancing-room. The men did not look enchanted to see us, but the girls seemed to witness our arrival with more satisfaction. We at once set to work to fulfill the duty for which we had come, and danced diligently. Soon afterward, an old man came into the room accompanied by a young girl. It was Hirsch Welt and his daughter. It was the first time that we had seen her since our return, and, as though with one breath, we ejaculated, "How very beautiful she is!" But I will not even now attempt to describe her. "Does seeing the girl really destroy the pleasurable memories of your boyhood?" I asked Adolf, with a smile. But he did not answer. For one moment he turned very pale. Immediately recovering himself, he went up to her and asked her to dance with him. She also turned pale, looked at him with a startled expression, and answered in a low voice--"No!" His cheek flushed. "You--you don't dance?" "I do dance," she replied slowly, and still with the same look in her face, "but not with you." He forced himself to smile, but with a great effort. "And what have I done to deserve such a punishment?" "You hate us all, and make game of us--of us, our ways, and our language. And what good does it do you, after all, to act thus? It does not make you the less a Jew." His face darkened. "Oh, if you only knew," he began hastily, but stopped himself there. After a short pause, he continued, with a smile: "You are mistaken. The people of Barnow have done me no wrong, nor I them. How could it be otherwise? I was born and brought up here among them." "Oh, I know," she said, quickly; "you used to live in the garret-room in our house, you and your old mother; peace be with her!..." His face lighted up with pleasure. "You remember those old days? I should hardly have expected it--it's eleven years ago!" "Yes, I remember it all distinctly. We used to be great friends, you and I. And had you forgotten me?" "Certainly not!" he said, emphatically. Then they began to talk in a low voice, and I could hear no more of their conversation. He was probably reminding Rachel of a number of little incidents of their childhood, for a happy smile played upon her lips every now and then.