evil to him to leave Prague. At Prague how little was there of
progress either in thought or in things material! At Prague a Jew could
earn money, and become rich--might own half the city; and yet at Prague
he could only live as an outcast. As regarded the laws of the land, he,
as a Jew, might fix his residence anywhere in Prague or around Prague;
he might have gardens, and lands, and all the results of money; he
might put his wife into a carriage twice as splendid as that which
constituted the great social triumph of Madame Zamenoy--but so strong
against such a mode of life were the traditional prejudices of
both Jews and Christians, that any such fashion of living would be
absolutely impossible to him. It would not be good for him that he
should remain at Prague. Knowing his father as he did, he could not
believe that the old man would be so unjust as to let him go altogether
empty-handed. He had toiled, and had been successful; and something of
the corn which he had garnered would surely be rendered to him. With
this--or, if need be, without it--he and his Christian wife would go
forth and see if the world was not wide enough to find them a spot on
which they might live without the contempt of those around them.

Though Nina had quenched her lamp and had gone to bed, it was not late
when Trendellsohn reached his home, and he knew that he should find his
father waiting for him. But his father was not alone. Rebecca Loth was
sitting with the old man, and they had just supped together when Anton
entered the room. Ruth Jacobi was also there, waiting till her friend
should go, before she also went to her bed.

"How are you, Anton?" said Rebecca, giving her hand to the man she
loved. "It is strange to see you in these days."

"The strangeness, Rebecca, comes from no fault of my own. Few men, I
fancy, are more constant to their homes than I am."

"You sleep here and eat here, I daresay."

"My business lies mostly out, about the town."

"Have you been about business now, uncle Anton?" said Ruth.

"Do not ask forward questions, Ruth," said the uncle. "Rebecca, I fear,
teaches you to forget that you are still a child."

"Do not scold her," said the old man. "She is a good girl."

"It is Anton that forgets that nature is making Ruth a young woman,"
said Rebecca.

"I do not want to be a young woman a bit before uncle Anton likes it,"
said Ruth. "I don't mind waiting ever so long for him. When he is
married he will not