"Speak, speak, father," cried Ochosias, eagerly, with such a racial quiver at the words "rare profit" as a war-horse's at a bugle call. "Listen," said Simon with deliberation, "I have long revolved in my mind the history of my life. I can say without vanity that nowhere is Simon, son of Simon, surpassed in business ability. Should you, Ochosias, live to be the age of the patriarchs, you might meet with one more fortunate than your father, but one more expert in trade--never. And yet I have not been successful ... at least, not up to the present time. For the future is in the hands of Jehovah alone by whom all things are decided." The two men bowed devoutly in token of submission to the Lord. "What, then, has been wanting?" continued Simon, son of Simon, following up his thought. "Nothing within myself, I say it without any uncertainty as to my pride being justifiable. Nothing within myself, everything outside of myself. It is no secret. Everyone proclaims it aloud. Ask anybody you please. Everyone will tell you: 'Simon, son of Simon, is no ordinary Jew.' Some will even add: 'He is the greatest Jew of his time.' I do not go as far as that. We must always leave room for another. But you will find opinion unanimous in respect to one curious statement: 'Simon, son of Simon, has no luck. All that he has lacked is luck,' There you have the simple truth. There is nothing further to say." "Well----?" inquired Ochosias, breathlessly, scenting something new in the air. "Well, one must have luck, that is the secret, and, I tell you plainly, I mean to have it." "How?" "It is within reach of all, my child. You cannot fail to see it. A state institution, through the care of the Emperor Francis Joseph, Christian of Christ, distributes good luck impartially to every subject of the Empire, whether Christian, Jew, or Mahomedan." "The lottery?" asked Ochosias, and pouted his lips disdainfully. "The lottery, you have said it, the lottery which graciously offers us every day a chance of which we neglect to avail ourselves." "Unless, of course," mused the youth, with a brightening countenance, "you know of some way to draw the winning number----" "Good. I was sure that blood would presently speak. You are not far from guessing right." "But, come now. Seriously. You know of some such means?" "Perhaps. Tell me, who is the master of luck?" "Jehovah. You yourself just said so." "Yes, Jehovah, or some god of the outsiders, if any there be mightier than Jehovah, which I cannot believe." "Other gods may be mighty, like Baal, or like Mammon, who ought by no means to be despised. But Jehovah is the greatest of all. He said: 'I am the Eternal.' And He is." "Doubtless. There are, however, more mysteries in this world than we can grasp, and Jehovah permits strange usurpations by other Celestial Powers." "It is for the purpose of trying us."