The Jew Part 19

"'It is too bad,' cried he, 'that the honest Moses did not die some months sooner. To-day it is the mustard after dinner, is it not?

Nothing comes in time. However, perhaps it is for the best. I congratulate you, and I hope you will not be intoxicated by your sudden fortune.'

"Really the surprise did intoxicate me somewhat, in spite of myself.

Men appeared to me from a new point of view; their baseness disgusted me, since now that I was rich they treated me so differently from when in poverty. It was impossible for me to accept all their invitations or to escape their attentions; I repelled them, however, with great interior contempt.

"As my guardian had told me that I was free to dispose of myself, I resolved to go abroad. Since then I have travelled, and I return home with the firm determination of serving my brothers and my countrymen."

Ivas sighed.

"You are happy," said he; "free, rich, and at liberty to do as you please. Your education, your character, your force of mind, will enable you to accomplish great things."

"Listen," cried Jacob, taking his arm, "we will labor together to serve our countrymen. I am prepared for it."

A light shone in Ivas' eyes, but he repressed the transports of his soul.

"I thank you," replied he at last, with a sad smile on his lips, "but it will first be necessary to return to Poland. Our country is on the eve of important events. Impatience devours me."

"Me, also," said Jacob. "Yet I do not share your presentiments. There are some events that I would rather avoid than hasten. We will speak of this later."

The next day they continued their journey. Restlessness incited them.

At Spezia they took the diligence and gained a railway station. They travelled quickly through Italy and Austria, and soon arrived at the frontier of what is called the Russian Empire.

It is to-day the only European State, if one can call it thus, where there exists no security for any one. If one goes on foot, one is exposed at the caprice of an administration, on the least suspicion, or from a false accusation, if not to death, to imprisonment of long duration, spoliation, or torture. It is better to fall into the hands of Calabria than into those of the functionaries of the Russian government. A country where, with the exception of the rights of the strongest, there are no rights; where reigns a band of beings, a little polished but not civilized; where the insatiable tools of brute force do not make any account of man, of his dignity, of his age, of his merits, of his sufferings; is it not rather an immense and frightful dungeon? The unfortunates who have escaped from its prison doors become the sport of the towns and villages. Before entering, a man was a man.

He is now no more than the subject, the slave, not of a single autocrat, but of some hundreds of ferocious despots, each individual a greedy representation of the unlimited power of the Czar. On its Russian barriers one can read the inscription of Dante: "_Lasciate ogni speranza voi ch'entrate_." "Who enters here leaves hope behind."

CHAPTER VIII.

THE SABBATH.

A small hamlet near Warsaw. A s.p.a.cious, empty market-place, on one side of which is a modest church and long cemetery wall; on the other a row of old and new houses of wood and brick, inhabited chiefly by Israelites. One of these, more conspicuous, rises above the others with a certain arrogance. On the ground floor, a grocery. On the front two lions, recalling by their sculpture a.s.syrian art. In their paws a vase of flowers and the figures 1860, no doubt the date of the restoration of the house. An eating-house with an open door is at the side.

Almost all the business of the village centred about this dwelling, a sufficient proof that the proprietor was an important person. It was a Friday evening; on the upper floors preparations were being made to celebrate the day consecrated to G.o.d in the Old Testament.

Provisions of all kinds covered the kitchen table. Women kept watch over a roast goose, a baked fish, while pastry and other dishes were cooking in the blazing oven. The chambers were being set in order, brooms flourished everywhere, and the candlesticks were filled with candles.

Already the venerable Jankiel Meves had returned from the bath. He hastened to put on his best garments, although the sun was far from setting; he had eaten little during the day, so as to do more honour to the blessed supper. While waiting, he reviewed in his memory all the events of the past week, seeking any violation of the sacred laws so as to efface them by sincere repentance.

Jankiel was an Israelite of the old school. It would have been very easy for him to have gained a more elevated position, owing to his wealth, his intelligence, and his connections; but he refused to put off his costume and to abandon his religious observances. The noise of women's jests came to his ears from the kitchen below. His wife, Rachel, fat, mature, and rosy, kneaded three little white loaves, some of which she was careful to reserve apart for the Khallah. The good woman, after having washed her hands, had carefully taken a portion of the dough, whispering the prayer used on such occasions: "Praised be Jehovah our G.o.d, King of the world! It is from thee that we have received our sacred laws, and it is thou who hast ordered us to keep the Khallah!"

As there was only one family and one baking, Rachel threw only one Khallah into the fire. In another part of the kitchen was in preparation a stuffed pike, a favourite dish of the Israelites, recommended by tradition for the Sabbath day. At the same time roasts and other dishes were cooking. On this day of rejoicing economy is not thought of.

The master of the house inspected himself the freshly washed dishes, the s.h.i.+ning knife, and the clean stewpans.

The hour arrived for the preparatory prayers of the celebration, with the Ten Commandments in Hebrew and in Chaldaic, a chapter of the Prophets applicable to the day of the year, and the 93d Psalm.

What a profound impression can be produced on an oppressed people by this last song of the Psalmist, which commands patience, and promises G.o.d's vengeance against oppressors.

Jankiel recited the prescribed prayers, and, as he had yet time, he opened the Talmud and fell on a pa.s.sage of the Book Berakhat. The reading plunged him in meditation. His thoughts went back to the days of intense persecution; he wept, and thanked G.o.d that, in spite of captivity, dispersions, tortures, and oppression, He had miraculously preserved His people until the present day. Whence came this miracle, from the observance of the law.

The time of prayers over, custom wills that the master of the house shall throw a last glance on the festive preparations; and, although he had entire confidence in Rachel, the Jew visited the kitchen, touched the dishes, and blessed in thought the nourishment about to be served.

Then he returned to his chamber and read the Song of Solomon.

The sun disappeared, and the candles were lighted. The solemn hour of the coming of the Sabbath approached.

The table was carefully set, and Rachel appeared in a toilette of velvet ornamented with pearls. Her daughters were dressed less elegantly, but with much taste, and the servants even were in their best.

The time came to go to the synagogue, and Jankiel descended the stairs, Rachel following him with an enormous volume under her arm. Her daughters accompanied her, and behind came the servants. That no one from this house must miss service was the rule of this Israelite.

The crowd filled the court in front of the temple; rich and poor, devout followers of Mosaism, were mixed together, and the chorister intoned the prayer Achre.

The service was long. Jankiel's face wore an expression of sad preoccupation, and when he returned home he had, in spite of this day of rejoicing, a clouded brow and a discontented air. At times he looked at Lia, his younger daughter, who awaited with fear and trembling her mother's commands.

She was a charming girl, whose features expressed innocence and sensibility of heart. Her eyes sparkled with the fires of youth, though they were now clouded by recent tears, and she looked at her father as if frightened.

Rachel recited with her elder daughter the prescribed prayers while lighting the candles. Other prayers followed, some whispered, some uttered in a loud voice. The sacred songs echoed through the brilliantly lighted house, and the women read Hebrew books.

Jankiel absented himself to return to the synagogue, and Rachel a.s.sisted her daughters to finish the preparations for the feast. She placed on the table, covered with a white cloth, two white loaves made by herself wrapped in a snowy napkin, in remembrance of the manna of the desert, the napkin representing the dew.

Returned home, Jankiel p.r.o.nounced several invocations, and his two daughters besought his blessing. He extended his hands to the elder, but when the time came for Lia he hesitated a moment, and his voice trembled faintly in p.r.o.nouncing the benediction for the second time.

"May G.o.d make Rachel and Lia like Sara and like Rebecca!"

The mother in her turn blessed her children, embraced them, and shed some tears, which she tried to wipe off, un.o.bserved, on a corner of her embroidered ap.r.o.n.

Before going to table a new prayer was addressed to the angels by Jankiel, then a second repet.i.tion of the Song of Solomon, and reading from the Talmud a verse chosen at random. Then followed the consecration of the wine and the blessing of broken bread, the pieces of which were distributed to the guests. It was thus they commenced the repast; but, in spite of the command of Moses to be merry during the Sabbath, the father seemed to be deeply afflicted. His glance sought Lia, and the young girl was so confused that she would have liked to conceal herself under the table.

Carried out according to tradition, the feast had a solemn character.

The supper was half prayer, half offering, and bore no resemblance to the fas.h.i.+onable feasts from which G.o.d is banished and to which one does not dream of inviting the angels. Jankiel, a scrupulous observer of the law, p.r.o.nounced a last prayer at the end of the repast. After that they separated. Rachel went to her bedroom, where Jankiel soon joined her.

"I am alarmed," said she to her husband; "you appear ill. You are not in your usual spirits. You have not the tranquillity of the Sabbath.

What is the matter with you?"

"Oh, it will pa.s.s away! Do not speak of it now. It would sadden this blessed and holy day."

His wife said no more.

It is thus that the Sabbath is kept in houses where the old customs are strictly observed. In most Jewish families the ritual is abridged, and this tends to destroy the ancient and patriarchal character of this consecrated day.

Opposite Jankiel's dwelling was a wooden house; it was comfortable and convenient, and belonged to David Seeback. It was toward the windows of this house that Lia, alone in her chamber, turned her beautiful eyes.

She sighed deeply, and seemed lost in thought.

David Seeback, father and son, had for many years followed the profession of money-lenders, a business which was called usury until the moment when political economy decided that to profit by the need of another is legitimate; and that interest, mutually agreed, no matter how high, is a permissible thing. These financiers were neither Jews nor Christians. They kept in appearance the Jewish laws and customs, but they attached to them no real importance. David, the father, gave himself out as a believing Jew to his co-religionists, but ridiculed all their observances when he found himself with the _Khutars_ and the _Gomes_.

He ate anywhere that he happened to be, and travelled on the days set aside for prayer and repose. In a word, he had shaken off tradition and found nothing to take its place.