nd preserve for ages the
qualities they have imbibed from them? The great solution of this
problem of race lies perhaps in the question itself. Instincts are
living facts, and their cause dwells in past necessity. Variety in
animals is the result of the exercise of these instincts.

To convince ourselves of this long-sought-for truth, it is enough to
extend to the herd of mankind the observation recently made on flocks
of Spanish and English sheep which, in low meadows where pasture is
abundant, feed side by side in close array, but on mountains, where
grass is scarce, scatter apart. Take these two kinds of sheep, transfer
them to Switzerland or France; the mountain breeds will feed apart even
in a lowland meadow of thick grass, the lowland sheep will keep together
even on an alp. Hardly will a succession of generations eliminate
acquired and transmitted instincts. After a century the highland spirit
reappears in a refractory lamb, just as, after eighteen centuries of
exile, the spirit of the East shone in Esther's eyes and features.

Her look had no terrible fascination; it shed a mild warmth, it was
pathetic without being startling, and the sternest wills were melted in
its flame. Esther had conquered hatred, she had astonished the depraved
souls of Paris; in short, that look and the softness of her skin had
earned her the terrible nickname which had just led her to the verge
of the grave. Everything about her was in harmony with these
characteristics of the Peri of the burning sands. Her forehead was
firmly and proudly molded. Her nose, like that of the Arab race, was
delicate and narrow, with oval nostrils well set and open at the base.
Her mouth, fresh and red, was a rose unblemished by a flaw, dissipation
had left no trace there. Her chin, rounded as though some amorous
sculptor had polished its fulness, was as white as milk. One thing only
that she had not been able to remedy betrayed the courtesan fallen very
low: her broken nails, which needed time to recover their shape, so much
had they been spoiled by the vulgarest household tasks.

The young boarders began by being jealous of these marvels of beauty,
but they ended by admiring them. Before the first week was at an end
they were all attached to the artless Jewess, for they were interested
in the unknown misfortunes of a girl of eighteen who could neither read
nor write, to whom all knowledge and instruction were new, and who was
to earn for the Archbishop