"On the contrary, you will do me a service. Solitude fatigues me, and your company will distract my thoughts. It is a genuine favour that you will grant me. Come, no more doubts. Give me your hand, brother, and think no more about it."

From the threshold of the inn the landlord saw the departure of the invalid with great satisfaction. And his joy was augmented by the fact that all had paid well, and that his first care now was to prepare a second dinner.

"What good luck," said he to himself, "that that young stranger should have fallen into the hands of those people. If it had not been so he might perhaps have committed suicide here, and I should have been obliged to bury him at my own expense, for he did not appear to have a heavy haversack, and I do not believe he had a sou. May G.o.d deliver me from any more such tourists! Yes, I have had a lucky escape."

CHAPTER II.

JUDAISM AND POLAND.

The two men traversed in almost uninterrupted silence the short distance which separated Sestri from Genoa. The route is simply a continuous line of straggling hamlets. On one ma.s.s of rock arose the ruins of an old tower; above the door was the image of the Virgin, patroness of the city. The light-house appeared in the distance, then the harbour, like an amphitheatre around which Genoa la Superba is built. This beautiful city is seen to best advantage from the sea. It is a city of palaces, with its colonnades, its porticos and staircases, its streets climbing toward the sky or sinking in sudden precipices. It has been likened to an enormous sh.e.l.l thrown up by the waves of the sea. The marine monster who lived in this sh.e.l.l has been replaced by a miserable spider; a life full of littleness has succeeded the life of grandeur of past ages.

In this marble city the inhabitants to-day are somewhat embarra.s.sed.

The sh.e.l.l is too large for them,--this sh.e.l.l, in the bottom of which the turbulent Genoese Republic vied with Venice in its traffic and its aristocracy. New peoples are there, new ways. The Balbi and Palaviccini palaces now have the appearance of tombs, while at the port the modern Italian struggles for precedence in a new form of existence, perhaps as full of pride as in the vanished past.

The carriage rolled softly through the streets which led to the interior of the city.

"Permit me to alight," said the young Pole suddenly.

"Why?"

"To go in search of lodgings."

"I thought it was agreed that we travel together?"

"Yes; but I wish to live alone. I tell you frankly that I have scarcely enough to finish my journey. It is necessary for me to seek cheap lodgings."

"Have you not accepted my fraternal offer to stay with me?"

"Yes, perhaps; but poverty has its pride, as wealth sometimes has its humility. Do not be angry because I wish to retain my independence. It is so good to be free, when liberty costs only a bad dinner and a wretched bed."

"I understand your scruples," replied the Jew. "If they were of any value I would heed them. I do not dream of chaining you to myself. My offer amounts to little, but it is made with a good heart, and if you find life with me insupportable you can leave me. In asking you to share my lodgings, if only for a night, I do not make any sacrifice, and you owe me no grat.i.tude. Do not refuse. I can share with you without inconvenience, and it is you who will do me a favour. I am sad-hearted; solitude oppresses me, I do not wish to be alone. Come with me to my hotel. I do not ask you to amuse me, but only to be near me. My heart longs to overflow into the heart of a fellow-man. If I weary you, you are at liberty to leave me to my sufferings."

"It would be foolish for me," said the Pole, "to refuse such a courteous invitation. Pardon my too susceptible pride. It was owing to my poverty."

"I honour the sentiment," replied the Jew smiling. Then he cried to the driver, "To the Hotel Feder!"

The Hotel Feder, like most of the hostelries of Genoa, of Venice, and of other Italian cities, is an ancient palace appropriated to this new service. The structure, half antique and half modern, has a strange appearance. At the foot of the court, obscure and abandoned, trickles an old fountain; a narrow path pa.s.ses under the windows of the chambers, and on every side can be discovered traces of former grandeur, relics of a romantic age now superseded everywhere by the plain practical life of to-day, whose chief end is money-getting.

The companions obtained a large room on the third floor with two beds, the windows of which commanded a fine view of the port, bristling with masts, like a garden of shrubs despoiled of their leaves by winter. In the distance the Mediterranean could be seen stretching away to the horizon.

They had hardly entered the room when the young man fell exhausted into a chair, and seemed about to swoon for the second time. Some cologne revived him, and a slight repast soon dispelled his weakness, the result of long fasting and excessive fatigue. His strength returned with rest and nourishment.

"And now," advised the Jew, "lie down on this couch, or perhaps it would be better to go to bed."

"If you will permit me?" asked the young man timidly.

"Nay, I beg you to do so."

"And you?"

"Oh, I will see Genoa this evening. Never mind me. I will amuse myself; all I ask of you at present is to sleep; and, mind, you must not even dream."

He took his hat and cane and left the room. The young man fell like one dead on the bed, and was asleep before his head touched the pillow.

Fatigue is not the same in old age as in youth, for then sleep soon restores the exhausted energies.

The young traveller was awakened from his profound slumber by the discordant braying of the a.s.ses grouped under the windows of the hotel.

He had forgotten the events of the past evening, and threw an astonished glance around the luxurious apartment. He who had for so long a time been accustomed to sleep in miserable lodgings now awoke in a pleasant room, and saw a simple but abundant breakfast spread out on the table beside him.

The Jew returned from a sea-bath, prepared to do it honour.

"Is it then very late?" murmured the Pole, rising from the bed.

"No, not very late. I arose early to enjoy the freshness of the morning. Have you slept well?"

"I know not."

"How is that?"

"I fell like a piece of lead. I rise as I fell without having stirred, without having moved even. I have slept the sleep of the dead."

"And how do you feel at present?"

"Strong as Hercules, thanks to you."

"Ah, bah! thanks to youth. Does your head ache still?"

"Not at all."

"Then let us attend to breakfast."

"You treat me too well, dear Amphitryon. This is a breakfast worthy of Lucullus and of the Sybarites. I have contented myself for a long while on awakening with a gla.s.s of sour wine and a piece of bread with cheese. A similar repast in the evening, and that was all. I cannot permit myself luxuries. I, a poor orphan, without future or friend, have never been pampered."

"It is not necessary that this should hinder your eating," interrupted the Jew gayly. "I am hungry, and will set you an example. Let us begin.

We will become better acquainted."

"That is true; we do not even know each other's names."

"Very well. I have the honour to present you Jacob Hamon."

"And I," said the Pole in his turn, "my friends have christened me familiarly with the name of Ivas. In reality I am called Jean Huba.

Huba, and not Hube, which is a German name. You will learn it if you know Poland a little, for I am from a Russian province, in the language of which Huba signifies champignon. It is like the Polish Gzybowski or Gzybowicz. This name became later an addition to the family name of the Pstrocki who came from Masovia to gain their living in a more fertile land. In full, I am _Jean Huba Pstrocki ex Masovia olim oriundus, in Russia possessionatus et natus_."

"Have you any kindred there?" asked Jacob.