"Your ideas and wishes are singularly at variance," said Keith smiling. "The city suggests poetical thoughts to you, but you reject them and lower yourself to the narrow things of everyday." "I am a man, and must live as one," replied the Jew, with a sigh; "it's hard enough to do so--Heaven knows!--without creating Paradises at whose doors we must ever stand like lost Peris." "What's the matter with you to-night?" asked Keith abruptly. "Nothing particular; only I've had a quarrel with my father." "Is that all? My dear Lazarus, your father lives in an atmosphere of quarrelling--it's bread and meat to him--so you needn't fret over a few words. What was the quarrel about?" "Money." "Humph!--generally a fruitful cause of dissension. Tell me all about it." "You know how I love Rachel?" said Lazarus quietly. "Well, I am anxious to marry her and have a home of my own. It's weary work living in tents like a Bedouin. I get a good salary, it's true; but I asked my father to give me a sufficient sum of ready money to buy a piece of land and a house. I might have saved myself the trouble--he refused, and we had angry words, so parted in anger." "I wouldn't bother about it, if I were you," said Keith consolingly. "Words break no bones--besides, this burlesque may bring us a lot of money, and then you can marry Rachel when you please." "I don't expect much money out of it," replied the Jew, with a frown. "It's our first piece, and Mortimer will drive a hard bargain with us--but you seem very hopeful to-night." "I have cause to. Eugénie has written me a letter, in which she says she is coming to Melbourne." "That's good news, indeed. Is she going to stay?" "I think so," said Keith gaily. "I told you she was a governess, so she has replied to an advertisement in the _Argus_, and hopes to get the situation." "I trust she will," observed Ezra, smiling at Keith's delight. "She will do you a lot of good by her presence, and guard you from the spells of Armida." "_Alias_ Caprice. Thanks for the warning, but I've not been ensnared by the fair enchantress yet, and never mean to; but here we are at the theatre. I hope we get good terms from Mortimer." "So do I, for Rachel's sake." "We are both _preux chevaliers_, anxious to gain for our lady-loves not fame, but money. Oh, base desire!" "It may be base, but it's very necessary," replied the prudent Jew, and they both entered the stage-door of the theatre. Mortimer's sanctum was a very well-furnished room, displaying considerable taste on the part of the occupant, for the manager of the "Bon-Bon" was sybaritic in his ideas. The floor was covered with a heavy velvet carpet, and the walls adorned with excellent pictures, while the furniture was all chosen for comfort as well as for ornament. Mortimer was seated at his desk with a confused mass of papers before him, and leaning back in a chair near him was Caprice, who looked rather pale and worn.