The Sabbath day was bleak, but chiller was his heart. The Rabbi had apartments in Steward Street, Spitalfields, an elegant suite on the ground-floor, for he stinted himself in nothing but charity. At the entrance was a porch--a pointed Gothic arch of wood supported by two pillars. As Yankelé mounted the three wooden steps, breathing as painfully as if they were three hundred, and wondering if he would ever get merely as far as the other side of the door, he was assailed by the temptation to go and dine peacefully at home, and represent to da Costa that he had feasted with the Rabbi. Manasseh would never know, Manasseh had taken no steps to ascertain if he satisfied the test or not. Such carelessness, he told himself in righteous indignation, deserved fitting punishment. But, on the other hand, he recalled Manasseh's trust in him; Manasseh believed him a man of honour, and the patron's elevation of soul awoke an answering chivalry in the parasite. He decided to make the attempt at least, for there would be plenty of time to say he had succeeded, after he had failed. Vibrating with tremors of nobility as well as of apprehension, Yankelé lifted the knocker. He had no programme, trusting to chance and mother-wit. Mrs. Remorse Red-herring half opened the door. "I vish to see de Rabbi," he said, putting one foot within. [Illustration: "'I VISH TO SEE DE RABBI.'"] "He is engaged," said the wife--a tiny thin creature who had been plump and pretty. "He is very busy talking with a gentleman." "Oh, but I can vait." "But the Rabbi will be having his dinner soon." "I can vait till after dinner," said Yankelé obligingly. "Oh, but the Rabbi sits long at table." "I don't mind," said Yankelé with undiminished placidity, "de longer de better." The poor woman looked perplexed. "I'll tell my husband," she said at last. Yankelé had an anxious moment in the passage. "The Rabbi wishes to know what you want," she said when she returned. "I vant to get married," said Yankelé with an inspiration of veracity. "But my husband doesn't marry people." "Vy not?" "He only brings consolation into households," she explained ingenuously. "Vell, I won't get married midout him," Yankelé murmured lugubriously. The little woman went back in bewilderment to her bosom's lord. Forthwith out came Rabbi Remorse Red-herring, curiosity and cupidity in his eyes. He wore the skull-cap of sanctity, but looked the gourmand in spite of it. "Good Sabbath, sir! What is this about your getting married?" "It's a long story," said Yankelé, "and as your good vife told me your dinner is just ready, I mustn't keep you now." "No, there are still a few minutes before dinner. What is it?" Yankelé shook his head. "I couldn't tink of keeping you in dis draughty passage." "I don't mind. I don't feel any draught."