"Dear brother in Israel," continued Simon calmly, "each time that the n.o.bles have a bad odour smell yourself. You will discover the same odour. You are at heart an aristocrat, but you lack the t.i.tle."

"Enough! Enough!" cried Mann.

"No! It is not enough. I must get rid of my bile. If I do not I shall stifle, and that would be sad for me at first, for you afterward, if you wish to pay my debts. We were speaking of pride. Very well. If we have not crests surmounted with coronets, nor three hundred years of n.o.bility"--

"Enough, I say! Enough!"

"Certainly, if you insist." And at last Simon consented to be silent.

Mann sulked awhile, then said to Jacob:--

"What news do you bring from Jerusalem? What is the condition of the Jews there? How do they live?"

"In misery. They ask our aid to help them emigrate to foreign lands.

They await the signal of regeneration from us. We ought to listen to their appeal."

"You wish, then, to direct the world?"

"I have not that pretension. Akiba, however, was only a shepherd before he became a sage. I might, perhaps, follow his example."

"It is the contrary with which you are threatened, if you do not change your conduct," cried Simon. "From a sage you will become a shepherd."

His guardian laughed good-naturedly, and said:--

"Simon predicts the future well. Instead of reforming humanity, apply yourself to business, and leave G.o.d, in his wisdom, to direct the world according to his own plans."

"Can we not become the instruments of G.o.d? Ought we not to try and accomplish his designs? I have no wish to ama.s.s wealth. I am sufficiently rich."

"If your whim is to be a second Akiba," replied Simon, "I doubt if you will succeed. From the ashes of Akiba have sprung up Borne and Heine.

The precepts of Heine in a book are fine; in flesh and blood, inconvenient."

"I do not like Heine," said Jacob.

They all exclaimed against this sacrilegious prejudice.

"Why do you dislike him? He represented in his day the true contemporaneous spirit of the Jews with the Kladderadatch."

"I do not like him, because his spirit is a spirit of destruction, debauchery of thought, debauchery of language, irony, scepticism, and abas.e.m.e.nt of human nature. All these are scattered among the pearls and diamonds. It is no less corruption though the author be remarkable for talent and genius. It is from this very corruption that we should free ourselves, for it is a presage of death; it is the death-rattle."

"Then," finished Simon, "_Judaeorum finis_."

"Yes. _Finis Judaeorum et Judasmi finis_. The people of Israel resemble a man who, having preserved intact a treasure during a journey of a thousand leagues through forests full of brigands, lost it in a puddle at the door of his house. This treasure is our faith, and it is in danger."

"Dear Jacob, why do we always speak of religion and morality? You really believe, then, that they exist somewhere?"

"If they are dead, we should employ means to resuscitate them."

"Decidedly he is mad," muttered Mann to himself. Then he added in a loud voice:--

"I should be proud of such an honour, but I am unworthy."

"'And I," said Simon, "I advise you to devote your energies to a task less likely to prove disappointing. For example, seek in the Talmud the things forbidden to a Jewish stomach. Mamonides has counted twenty-four. With a little perseverance you can get it up to thirty.

What a glorious discovery that would be!"

"What matters the number of dishes," said Jacob. "Yet the prohibition has produced good results, because it has set a limit to gormandizing."

"If you only knew, dear friend," said Simon, "what a savour there is in a sausage! A wealthy proprietor of Volhynie, although originally an Israelite, ate them to satiety, and afterward said: 'I stuff myself with sausages, for I eat them for myself and for my ancestors, who never tasted them during many generations.'"

"Truly," cried Henri, "the conversation takes an agreeable turn, thanks to sausages."

Mann, wearied with the lamentations of Jacob and the jests of Simon, started a new subject.

"Has any one here," asked he, "been at the house of Count A. Z.

lately?"

The count was a person whose popularity increased daily, though it might be fleeting.

"I," responded the indefatigable Simon.

"And you were received?"

"Why not?"

"Very well. What did he say?"

"Always the same sobriety of words. His theory, like that of all the n.o.bles, is that the Jews ought to work to obtain their rights,--like apprentices, in order to pa.s.s their companions and masters."

"He is right, up to a certain point," said Jacob.

"How is that?" asked Mann angrily. "Have we not, we who were born on the same soil, received from nature the same rights as these men? In what are n.o.bles our superiors? Have we not gained our rights of equality by humiliations endured during ages?"

"Nature," replied Jacob, "has created us all equal. I do not deny that; but on the side of rights there are duties. If we do not share all the burden we shall not merit all the rights."

"But we could not escape the expense, that I know; and, with their usual haughtiness, the n.o.bles do not welcome us to the Agricultural Society."

"Until the present day," said Jacob, "we have not had a single t.i.tle to aspire to it. Yet I admit that the n.o.bles are wrong to be so exclusive."

"Certainly. It is wrong for them to act thus; and, tell me, what is the object of the societies the n.o.bles are organizing? It is to deprive us of our commerce."

"Perhaps that would be rendering us a great service, for with this single occupation we are losing prestige. It would, perhaps, be for the best if we were obliged to seek our means of existence elsewhere. Why should we always remain traders? Besides, thanks to our experience and ability, we have not much to fear from their compet.i.tion, for they know nothing about business."

"But they will monopolize commerce. Their societies are directed against us. Their Agricultural Society is a conspiracy, a plot against the Jews. Everywhere we meet evidences of their hatred."

"And I do not think that on our side there is very much good-will either."

"And why should we like them?" interrupted Henri. "Though they are very polite, and sometimes even familiar, they exclude us from their intimacy and never accord us their friendship."

"We do the same."