The waistcoat contained also a paper written over closely, but the writing was almost effaced and indecipherable.

It was not possible to return the garment to its owner, for the soldier had evidently stolen it. Nevertheless, Schmul did not believe it right to appropriate a sum which seemed to have been sent from Heaven; he considered himself the depositary, and distributed the whole in small sums to political prisoners. This act describes the man. Unfortunate though he was, he paid his debt to an unknown. He often showed pieces of the waistcoat when he had occasion to relate the story, and returned thanks to Providence, for he was very pious.

He always left home early in the morning and did not return until dark.

He carried an old umbrella, formerly blue, but become by long usage an indefinable colour. It was less to shield himself than to shelter his merchandise from the rain, the snow, and the sun. His breakfast was invariably composed of a raw onion or a smoked herring, with a morsel of bread and a small gla.s.s of brandy. In the evening he loved to find some hot dish awaiting him, and seated at the table he related the most amusing incidents of the day, to which his family listened attentively.

Then came the prayer before going to bed.

The pedler was generally loved on account of his good character and jovial spirit. People were surprised that with his intelligence he had not already made his fortune. He replied by likening himself to a pair of scissors. Be they ever so sharp, they were no use without something to cut. Gold was the something that G.o.d, in his wisdom, had not given to every one.

Jacob arrived at the staircase which led to the Schmuls' lodging. He ascended without seeing the pedler, who, returning from his work, followed him, and stopped at the same time before the door of his lodging, on which was graven the name of G.o.d. Following the custom, he touched it with his hand and afterwards kissed it. It was then that Schmul recognized him.

"_Salem alekem_," said he.

"_Alekem salem_," replied the fugitive.

"Rabbi Jacob, tell me why I am honoured by your presence?" asked Schmul.

"I am in trouble," replied Jacob.

"Can I do anything for you?"

"Yes, and easily, I hope."

"Even if it were not easy you may count on me to do all I can."

They entered; the old man dusted the sofa and the table in Jacob's honour, and begged him to be seated. The prettiest and the boldest of his daughters, Rosele, came to help him. Notwithstanding their poverty, she was dressed neatly and in good taste, and her beautiful black eyes indicated a certain coquetry.

"Now that you are seated," said Schmul, "I will listen to you."

"In a moment. Rest yourself first, you must be tired."

"Oh, as for that, yes! I cannot say how many stairs I have climbed to-day. I have done well. There are some young Poles who sold their last fine shirts to buy thick warm garments. I did not have to make myself hoa.r.s.e to-day by crying '_Hendel!_ Everybody called to me. They sold at any price. I had not enough money, and was obliged to borrow of old Mortchel."

"I am obliged," said Jacob in a low voice, "to leave Warsaw. The police paid a visit to my house this morning."

"To your house? Is it possible? Are you then, Rabbi Jacob, one of those madmen who tempt G.o.d?"

"No; but the Russian government often arrests innocent people."

"This is true. They do it every day. No one is secure here, nor ever has been under Russian rule."

"Do you know any one who can conduct me in safety to the first post station?"

"Certainly. Under this very roof dwells Mordko. As every one must live by some means, he is a smuggler. Merchandise, papers, men, he gets them all across the frontier. Thus, by exposing his head every day, he feeds his stomach."

"Can I trust him?"

"Entirely. This Mordko is a queer fellow, and when you see him you will not doubt him. Half mute, almost blind, he can scarcely say four words or take three steps. He has such a stupid and innocent air that he is never suspected. I will go and find him."

Madame Schmul came in to keep Jacob company, and at the half-open door the three girls peeped at him with admiration. Rosele said to herself: "What happiness for me if I could please this rich man. But, alas! I must not think of it. I am called beautiful, but no doubt I should not satisfy a man such as he."

In a few moments Schmul returned with a very shabby individual. He looked at Jacob from head to foot attentively.

"He already understands the situation," said the pedler. "You need make no farther explanations."

"I wish to leave at once," said Jacob.

"To-night? No!" replied Mordko. "Too dangerous! Morning will be better."

"But I cannot sleep here, there is no room, and the hotels are surrounded by the police."

"I know a place where you can sleep quietly. I will return in a moment, and conduct you to it."

As soon as Mordko had gone, Schmul said to his visitor:--

"Your flight gives me great sorrow. When will you return? No one knows.

Your absence is a misfortune for the Israelites. You are the only one who could restore our old purity of religion. No one else, and now you are taken from us."

"If I am really useful to our cause, be sure that the G.o.d of Israel will protect me," replied Jacob.

"Then you will return, safe and sound. I have a presentiment. And waiting here we will drink the bitter cup to the dregs."

Mordko returned, and Jacob, under his guidance, went to a small hotel in the suburbs, where he was given an isolated chamber. He soon slept, and for several hours the fugitive was oblivious to the world.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

LOVE OF COUNTRY.

It was not an easy thing to travel in Poland in the time of the revolution. The country was scoured by bands of Cossacks, and battalions of regular troops inundated the cities and villages, took possession of any place they fancied with impunity, and committed all kinds of excesses. In the ravaged fields the unfortunate farmers beheld both their friends and enemies tear from them the nourishment of their wives and children.

Mordko brought Jacob safely by a circuitous route to the post station, whence a carriage took him to the village where Jankiel dwelt.

Here he learned that the two Davids were absent. The elder lived in Warsaw, under the protection of the Russian governor, and the younger took some part in the insurrection, and had acquired the name of an ardent patriot.

Jacob surprised Jankiel, all alone, bent over a large book. He saw how suffering had emaciated the old man, who, not divining who his visitor was, did not raise his head, but signed with his hand that he wished to finish his pious meditation. At the end of a few moments he closed his book, and recognizing Jacob, received him with great cordiality.

"Do you bring me bad news?" he asked.

"No, I will tell you all frankly. I have been threatened with arrest; for what, I know not. I have been advised to absent myself, and I come to you to shelter me a little while from the storm."

"The storm is still far from its end. The clouds thicken; but come what will I receive you with all my heart, and my house is at your service."

"I am at present at the hotel."