He saw that his words were having effect, for these prosperous pillars of the Synagogue were mightily superstitious under affliction, and he proceeded in gentler tones. "To come to the point, it is my duty to inform you (for I am the only man who is certain of it) that while you have been away our Synagogue has made a bad debt!" "A bad debt!" An angry light leapt into the President's eyes. There had been an ancient practice of lending out the funds to members, and the President had always set his face against the survival of the policy. "It would not have been made had I been there!" he cried. "No, indeed," admitted Manasseh. "You would have stopped it in its early stages. The Chief of the Elders tried, but failed." "The dolt!" cried the President. "A man without a backbone. How much is it?" "A hundred pounds!" "A hundred pounds!" echoed the President, seriously concerned at this blot upon his year of office. "And who is the debtor?" "I am." "You! You have borrowed a hundred pounds, you--you jackanapes!" "Silence, sir! How dare you? I should leave this apartment at once, were it not that I cannot go without your apology. Never in my life have I borrowed a hundred pounds--nay, never have I borrowed one farthing. I am no borrower. If you are a gentleman, you will apologise!" "I am sorry if I misunderstood," murmured the poor President, "but how, then, do you owe the money?" "How, then?" repeated Manasseh impatiently. "Cannot you understand that I have donated it to the Synagogue?" The President stared at him open-mouthed. "I vowed it yesterday in celebration of my daughter's marriage." The President let a sigh of relief pass through his open mouth. He was even amused a little. "Oh, is that all? It was like your deuced effrontery; but still, the Synagogue doesn't lose anything. There's no harm done." "What is that you say?" enquired Manasseh sternly. "Do you mean to say I am not to pay this money?" "How can you?" "How can I? I come to you and others like you to pay it for me." "Nonsense! Nonsense!" said the President, beginning to lose his temper again. "We'll let it pass. There's no harm done." "And this is the President of the Mahamad!" soliloquised the _Schnorrer_ in bitter astonishment. "This is the chief of our ancient, godly Council! What, sir! Do you hold words spoken solemnly in Synagogue of no account? Would you have me break my solemn vow? Do you wish to bring the Synagogue institutions into contempt? Do you--a man already once stricken by Heaven--invite its chastisement again?" The President had grown pale--his brain was reeling. "Nay, ask its forgiveness, sir," went on the King implacably; "and make good this debt of mine in token of your remorse, as it is written, 'And repentance, and prayer, and _charity_ avert the evil decree.'"