“It is a dream, far-off. In England hardly even that.” There was a blankness before him. Unconscious of his youth, and his radiating charm, distilled from the modern world; Frenchman, Russian, philosophical German-brained, he sat there white-faced, an old old Jew, immeasurably old, cut off, alone with his conviction, facing the blank spaces of the future. Why could he not be content to be a European? She swayed, dragging at the knot. In his deeply saturated intelligence there still was a balance on the side from which he had declared to his father, that he was first a man; then a Jew. By the accidents of living, this might be cherished. The voices of the night cried out against the treachery. She glanced remorsefully across at him and recognised with a sharp pang of pity, in his own eyes, the well-known eyes wide open towards the darkness where she sat invisible, the look he had described ... wehmütig; in spite of his sheltered happy prosperous youth it was there; he _belonged_ to those millions whose sufferings he had revealed to her, a shadow lying for ever across the bright unseeing confidence of Europe, hopeless. And now, at this moment, standing out from their midst the strange beautiful Old Testament figure in modern clothes; the fine beautifully moulded Hebrew head, so like his own..... “But it _is_ extraordinary; that just when everything is at its worst, this idea should have arisen...... It’s all very well for people to laugh at Micawber.” “Who is this man?” “The man who is always waiting for something to turn up. Things _do_ turn up, exactly at the right moment. It doesn’t mean fatalism. I don’t believe in laisser-aller as a principle; but there is something _in_ things, something the people who make plans and think they are thinking out everything in advance, don’t know; their oblivion of it, while they go busily on knowing exactly what they are going to do and why, even at picnics, is a terrible thing. And somehow they always fail.” “They do not by any means always fail. In all concerted action there must be a plan. Herzl is certainly a man with a plan.” “Yes but it’s different; his idea _is_ his plan. It isn’t _clever_. And now that it is here it seems so simple. Why was it never put forward before?” “The greatest ideas are always simple; though not in their resultants. This dream however, has always been present with Jews.” “Of course. The Zionist Movement, coming now, when it is most wanted, is not altogether Herzl. It’s that strange thing, the thing that makes you stare, in history. A sort of shape ......” “It is the collective pressure of life; an unseen movement. But if you feel this what now becomes of your individualism? Eh?” He chuckled his delight .... passing so easily and leisurely to personal things. “Oh the shape doesn’t affect the _individual_, in himself. There’s something behind all those outside things that goes on independently of them, something much more wonderful.”