t is better that we should part, then--then--
then I will let him go."

After this Rebecca left the room and the house. Before she went, she
kissed the Christian girl; but Nina did not remember that she had been
kissed. Her mind was so full, not of thought, but of the suggestion
that had been made to her, that it could now take no impression from
anything else. She had been recommended to do a thing as her duty--as
a paramount duty towards him who was everything to her--the doing of
which it would be impossible that she should survive. So she told
herself when she was once more alone, and had again seated herself in
the chair by the window. She did not for a moment accuse Rebecca of
dealing unfairly with her. It never occurred to her as possible that
the Jewess had come to her with false views of her own fabrication.
Had she so believed, her suspicions would have done great injustice to
her rival; but no such idea presented itself to Nina's mind. All that
Rebecca had said to her had come to her as though it were gospel. She
did believe that Trendellsohn, as a Jew, would injure himself greatly
by marrying a Christian. She did believe that the Jews of Prague would
treat him somewhat as the Christians would treat herself. For herself
such treatment would be nothing, if she were but once married; but she
could understand that to him it would be ruinous. And Nina believed
also that Rebecca had been entirely disinterested in her mission--that
she came thither, not to gain a lover for herself, but to save from
injury the man she loved, without reference to her own passion. Nina
knew that Rebecca was strong and good, and acknowledged also that she
herself was weak and selfish. She thought that she ought to have been
persuaded to make the sacrifice, and once or twice she almost resolved
that she would follow Rebecca to the Jews' quarter and tell her that it
should be made. But she could not do it. Were she to do so, what would
be left to her? With him she could bear anything, everything. To starve
would hardly be bitter to her, so that his arm could be round her
waist, and that her head could be on his shoulder. And, moreover, was
she not his to do with as he pleased? After all her promises to him,
how could she take upon herself to dispose of herself otherwise than as
he might direct?

But then some thought of the missing document came back upon her, and
she remembered in her grief that he suspected her--that even now he
had