"What do you mean by that, Souchey?" said the girl, sharply. "You are seeing too much of Anton Trendellsohn," repeated the old man. "I have to see him on father's account. You know that. You know that, Souchey, and you shouldn't say such things." "You are seeing too much of Anton Trendellsohn," said Souchey for a third time. "Anton Trendellsohn is a Jew." Then Nina knew that Souchey had read her secret, and was sure that it would spread from him through Lotta Luxa, her aunt's confidential maid, up to her aunt's ears. Not that Souchey would be untrue to her on behalf of Madame Zamenoy, whom he hated; but that he would think himself bound by his religious duty-he who never went near priest or mass himself—to save his mistress from the perils of the Jew. The story of her love must be told, and Nina preferred to tell it herself to having it told for her by her servant Souchey. She must see Anton. When the evening therefore had come, and there was sufficient dusk upon the bridge to allow of her passing over without observation, she put her old cloak upon her shoulders, with the hood drawn over her head, and, crossing the river, turned to the left and made her way through the narrow, crooked streets which led to the Jews' quarter. She knew the path well, and could have found it with blindfold eyes. In the middle of that close and densely populated region of Prague, stands the old Jewish synagogue-the oldest place of worship belonging to the Jews in Europe, as they delight to tell you; and in a pinched-up, high-gabled house immediately behind the synagogue, at the corner of two streets, each so narrow as hardly to admit a vehicle, dwelt the Trendellsohns. On the basement floor there had once been a shop. There was no shop now, for the Trendellsohns were rich, and no longer dealt in retail matters; but there had been no care, or perhaps no ambition, at work, to alter the appearance of their residence, and the old shutters were upon the window, making the house look as though it were deserted. There was a highpitched sharp roof over the gable, which, as the building stood alone fronting upon the synagogue, made it so remarkable, that all who knew Prague well, knew the house in which the Trendellsohns lived. Nina had often wished, as in latter days she had entered it, that it was less remarkable, so that she might have gone in and out with smaller risk of observation. It was now the beginning of September, and the clocks of the town had just struck eight as Nina put her hand on the lock of the Jew's door. As usual it was not bolted, and she was able to enter without waiting in the street for a servant to come to her. She went at once along the narrow passage and up the gloomy wooden stairs, at the foot of which there hung a small lamp, giving just light enough to expel the actual blackness of night. On the first landing Nina knocked at a door, and was desired to enter by a soft female voice. The only occupant of the room when she entered was a dark-haired child, some twelve years old perhaps, but small in stature and delicate, and, as appeared to the eye, almost wan. "Well, Ruth, dear," said Nina, "is Anton at home this evening'?" "He is up-stairs with grandfather, Nina. Shall I tell him?" "If you will, dear," said Nina, stooping down and kissing her. "Nice Nina, dear Nina, good Nina," said the girl, rubbing her glossy curls against her friend's cheeks. "Ah, dear, how I wish you lived here." "But I have a father as you have a grandfather, Ruth.” "And he is a Christian." "But you like us, and are good, and nice, and dear-and oh, Nina, you are so beautiful! I wish you were one of us and lived here. There is Miriam Harter-her hair is as light as yours, and her eyes are as grey." "What has that to do with it?" "Only I am so dark, and most of us are dark here in Prague. Anton says that away in Palestine our girls are as fair as the girls in Saxony." "And does not Anton like girls to be dark?" "Anton likes fair hair-such as yours-and bright grey eyes such as you have got. I said they were green, and he pulled my ears. But now I look, Nina, I think they are green. And so bright! I can see my own in them, though it is so dark. That is what they call looking babies." "Go to your uncle, Ruth, and tell him that I want him-on business." "I will, and he'll come to you. He won't let me come down again, so kiss me, Nina; good-bye." Nina kissed the child again, and then was left alone in the room. It was a comfortable chamber, having in it sofas and arm-chairsmuch more comfortable, Nina used to think, than her aunt's grand drawing-room in the Windberg Gasse, which was covered all over with a carpet, after the fashion of drawing-rooms in Paris; but the Jew's sitting-room was dark, with walls painted a gloomy green colour, and there was but one small lamp of oil upon the table. But yet Nina loved the room, and, as she sat there waiting for her lover, she wished that it had been her lot to have been born a Jewess. Only, had that been so, her hair might perhaps have been black, and her eyes dark, and Anton would not have liked her. She put her hand up for a moment to her rich brown tresses, and felt them as she took joy in thinking that Anton Trendellsohn loved to look upon fair beauty. After a short while Anton Trendellsohn came down. To those who know the outward types of his race there could be no doubt that Anton Trendell sohn was a very Jew among Jews. He was certainly a handsome man, not now very young, having reached some year certainly in advance of thirty, and his face was full of intellect. He was slightly made, below the middle height, but was well made in every limb, with small feet and hands, and small ears, and a well-turned neck. He was very dark-dark as a man can be, and yet show no sign of colour in his blood. No white man could be more dark and swarthy than Anton Tredellsohn. His eyes, however, which were quite black, were very bright. His jet-black hair, as it clustered round his ears, had in it something of a curl. Had it been allowed to grow it would almost have hung in ringlets; but it was worn very short, as though its owner were jealous even of the curl. Anton Trendellsohn was decidedly a handbut his eyes some man; somewhat too close together in his face, and the bridge of his aquiline nose was not sharply cut, as is mostly the case with such a nose on a Christian face. The olive oval face was without doubt the face of a Jew, and the mouth was greedy, and the teeth were perfect and bright, and the movement of the man's body was the movement of a Jew. But not the less on that account had he behaved with Christian forbearance to his Christian debtor, Josef Balatka, and with Christian chivalry to Balatka's daughter, till that chivalry had turned itself into love. were "The light and heat I love best, Nina." "If I thought that-if I could really think that I would be happy still, and would mind nothing." "And what is it you do mind?" "There are things to trouble us, of course. When aunt Sophie says that all of us have our troubleseven she-I suppose that even she speaks the truth." "Your aunt Sophie is a fool." "I should not mind if she were only a fool. But a fool can sometimes be right." "And she has been scolding you because-you-prefer a Jew to a Christian." "No-not yet, Anton. She does not know it yet; but she must know it." "Sit down, Nina." He was still holding her by the hand; and now, as he spoke, he led her to a sofa which stood between the two windows. There he seated her, and sat by her side, still holding her hand in his. "Yes," he said, "she must know it of course-when the time comes; and if she guesses it before, you must put up with her guesses. A few sharp words from a foolish woman will not frighten you, I hope." "No words will frighten me out of my love, if you mean that ;neither words nor anything else." "I believe you. You are brave, Nina. I know that. Though you will cry if one but frowns at you, yet you are brave." "Do not you frown at me, Anton." "I am one of those that do frown at times, I suppose; but I will be true to you, Nina, if you will be true to me." "I will be true to you-true as the sun." As she made her promise she turned her sweet face up to his, and he leaned over her, and kissed her. "And what is it that has disturbed you now, Nina? What has Madame Zamenoy said to you?" Souchey! And do you care for for no that?" "I care for nothing thing; for nothing, that is, in the way of preventing me. Do what they will, they cannot tear my love from my heart." "Nor can they take you away, or lock you up." "I fear nothing of that sort, Anton. All that I really fear is secrecy. Would it not be best that I should tell father?" "What!-now, at once?" "If you will let me. I suppose he must know it soon.' "You can if you please." "Souchey will tell him." "Will Souchey dare to speak of you like that?" asked the Jew. "Oh, yes; Souchey dares to say anything to father now. Besides, it is true. Why should not Souchey say it?" "But you have not spoken to Souchey; you have not told him?" "I! No, indeed. I have spoken never a word to any one about that only to you. How should I speak to another without your bidding? But when they speak to me I must answer them. If father asks me whether there be aught between you and me, shall I not tell him then?" "It would be better to be silent for a while." "But shall I lie to him? I should not mind Souchey nor aunt Sophie much; but I never yet told a lie to father." "I do not tell you to lie." "Let me tell it all, Anton, and then, whatever they may say, whatever they may do, I shall not mind. I wish that they knew it, and then I could stand up against them. Then I could tell Ziska that which would make him hold his tongue for ever." "Ziska! Who cares for Ziska?" "You need not, at any rate." "The truth is, Nina, that I cannot be married till I have settled all this about the houses in the Kleinseite. The very fact that you would be your father's heir prevents my doing so.” "Do you think that I wish to hurry you? I would rather stay as I am, knowing that you love me." "Dear Nina! But when your aunt shall once know your secret, she will give you no peace till you are out of her power. She will leave no stone unturned to make you give up your Jew lover." "She may as well leave the turning of such stones alone." "But if she heard nothing of it till she heard that we were married-" "Ah! but that is impossible. I could not do that without telling father, and father would surely tell my aunt." "You may do as you will, Nina; but it may be, when they shall know it, that therefore there may be new difficulty made about the houses. Karil Zamenoy has the papers which are in truth mineor my father's-which should be here in my iron box." And Trendellsohn, as he spoke, put his hand forcibly on the seat beside him, as though the iron box to which he alluded were within his reach. "I know they are yours," said Nina. "Yes; and without them, should your father die, I could not claim my property. The Zamenoys might say they held it on your behalf, and you my wife at the time! Do you see, Nina? I could not stand that I would not stand that." "I understand it well, Anton." "The houses are mine-or ours, rather. Your father has long since had the money, and more than the He knew that the houses money. were to be ours. "He knows it well. You do not think that he is holding back the papers ?" "He should get them for me. He should not drive me to press him for them. I know they are at Karil Zamenoy's counting-house; but your uncle told me, when I spoke to him, that he had no business with me; if I had a claim on him, there was the law. I have no claim on him. But I let your father have the money when he wanted it, on his promise that the deeds should be forthcoming. A Christian would not have been such a fool." “Oh, Anton, do not speak to me like that." "But was I not a fool? See how it is now. Were you and I to become man and wife, they would never give them up, though they are my own-my own. No; we must wait; and you-you must demand them from your uncle." "I will demand them. And as for waiting, I care nothing for that if you love me." "I do love you." "Then all shall be well with me; and I will ask for the papers. Father, I know, wishes that you should have all that is your own. He would leave the house to-morrow if you desired it." "He is welcome there." to remain "And now, Anton, good-night." "When shall I see you again?" "When you please, and as often. Have I not said that you are light and heat to me? Can the sun rise too often for those who love it?" Then she held her hand up to be kissed, and kissed his in return, and went silently down the stairs into the street. He had said once in the course of the conversationnay, twice, as she came to remember in thinking over it-that she might do as she would about telling her friends; and she had been almost craftily careful to say nothing herself, and to draw nothing from him, which could be held as militating against this authority, or as subsequently negativing the per mission so given. She would undoubtedly tell her father-and her aunt; and would as certainly de mand from her uncle those documents of which Anton Trendellsohn had spoken to her. CHAPTER II. Nina, as she returned home from river, put their hands upon the the Jews' quarter to her father's plate, and then kiss their fingers. house in the Kleinseite, paused for a So shall they be saved from drownwhile on the bridge to make some ing, and from all perils of the resolution-some resolution that water-as far, at least, as that speshould be fixed-as to her immediate cial transit of the river may be perilconduct. Should she first tell her ous. Nina, as a child, had always story to her father, or first to her touched the stone, and then touched aunt Sophie? There were reasons her lips, and did the act without much for and against either plan. And thought as to the saving power of St. if to her father first, then should John Nepomucene. But now, as she tell it to-night? She was ner- she carried her hand to her face, vously anxious to rush at once at she did think of the deed. Had she, her difficulties, and to be known to who was about to marry a Jew, any all who belonged to her as the girl right to ask for the assistance of a who had given herself to the Jew. Christian saint? And would such It was now late in the evening, and a deed as that she now proposed to the moon was shining brightly on herself put her beyond the pale of the palace over against her. The Christian aid? Would the Madonna colonnades seemed to be so close to herself desert her should she marry her that there could hardly be room a Jew? If she were to become for any portion of the city to cluster truer than ever to her faith-more itself between them and the river. diligent, more thoughtful, more She stood looking up at the great constant in all acts of devotionbuilding, and fell again into her would the blessed Mary help to trick of counting the windows, save her, even though she should thereby saving herself a while from commit this great sin? Would the the difficult task of following out mild-eyed, sweet Saviour, who had the train of her thoughts. But forgiven so many women, who had what were the windows of the saved from a cruel death the woman palace to her? So she walked on taken in adultery, who had been so again till she reached a spot on the gracious to the Samaritan woman bridge at which she almost always at the well-would he turn from paused a moment to perform a little her the graciousness of his dear act of devotion. There, having a eyes, and bid her go out for ever place in the long row of huge statues from among the faithful? Madame which adorn the bridge, is the Zamenoy would tell her so, and so figure of the martyr St. John Ne- would Sister Teresa, an old nun, pomucene, who, at this spot, was who was on most friendly terms thrown into the river because he with Madame Zamenoy, and whom would not betray the secrets of Nina altogether hated; and so would a queen's confession, and was the priest, to whom, alas! she drowned, and who has ever been, would be bound to give faith. from that period downwards, the And if this were so, whither should favourite saint of Prague-and of she turn for comfort? She could bridges. On the balustrade, near not become a Jewess! She might the figure, there is a small plate in- call herself one; but how could she serted in the stone-work, and good be a Jewess with her strong faith Catholics, as they pass over the in St. Nicholas, who was the saint |