derstood the look and smiled bitterly.

'No. Your King never drew my teeth: I think, perhaps, I drew his. Listen!
I was not born among Christians, but among Moors--in Spain--in a little
white town under the mountains. Yes, the Moors are cruel, but at least
their learned men dare to think. It was prophesied of me at my birth that
I should be a Lawgiver to a People of a strange speech and a hard
language. We Jews are always looking for the Prince and the Lawgiver to
come. Why not? My people in the town (we were very few) set me apart as a
child of the prophecy--the Chosen of the Chosen. We Jews dream so many
dreams. You would never guess it to see us slink about the rubbish-heaps
in our quarter; but at the day's end--doors shut, candles lit--aha! _then_
we become the Chosen again.'

He paced back and forth through the wood as he talked. The rattle of the
shot-guns never ceased, and the dogs whimpered a little and lay flat on
the leaves.

'I was a Prince. Yes! Think of a little Prince who had never known rough
words in his own house handed over to shouting, bearded Rabbis, who pulled
his ears and filliped his nose, all that he might learn--learn--learn to be
King when his time came. He! Such a little Prince it was! One eye he kept
on the stone-throwing Moorish boys, and the other it roved about the
streets looking for his Kingdom. Yes, and he learned to cry softly when he
was hunted up and down those streets. He learned to do all things without
noise. He played beneath his father's table when the Great Candle was lit,
and he listened as children listen to the talk of his father's friends
above the table. They came across the mountains, from out of all the
world; for my Prince's father was their councillor. They came from behind
the armies of Sala-ud-Din: from Rome: from Venice: from England. They
stole down our alley, they tapped secretly at our door, they took off
their rags, they arrayed themselves, and they talked to my father at the
wine. All over the world the heathen fought each other. They brought news
of these wars, and while he played beneath the table, my Prince heard
these meanly-dressed ones decide between themselves how, and when, and for
how long King should draw sword against King, and People rise up against
People. Why not? There can be no war without gold, and we Jews know how
the earth's gold moves with the seasons, and the crops, and the winds;
circling and looping and rising and sinking away like a riv