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Updated: May 5, 2025
"Yes, that's true, but you won't pay off your debts by tramping the streets, and your little cafe at Benhur will be a long time building, I fancy. Meanwhile there is money to be made at the Penny-farthing Shop." "What are your terms?" asked Gregorio, roughly. The woman laughed, but did not answer. The stars were shining, and the kempsin that had blown all day was dead.
His eyes rested coldly on the face of his client, while the unfortunate Greek continued to speak rapidly of his troubles and hopes. He smiled sarcastically as Gregorio spoke of the certainty of making his fortune at Benhur, and remained quite unmoved at the story of the sufferings of a woman and child from hunger and want.
He won't follow you to Benhur, I fancy." "It doesn't worry me generally; but when you mention him my hate springs up again. I forget him when I am by myself." "Forget him now." And they drank coffee in silence. Darkness came on, and the blue night mist. Gregorio was impatient to see his son.
But as the wine stirred his blood he became satisfied with what he had done and said. The little cafe at Benhur that was to make his fortune seemed nearly in his grasp. Had he not, he asked himself, worked all day without a murmur? It was right Xantippe should help him.
Toward the evening of a day a fortnight later, Gregorio found himself seated in Madam Marx's cafe, idly watching the passers-by. He was feeling happier, for that was being amassed which alone could insure happiness to him. Each day some golden pieces were added to the amount saved, and the cafe at Benhur seemed almost within his grasp.
He was going to set up a cafe with the money at Tanta, or Zagazig, or even Benhur, yes, Benhur was the best, where there were few competitors. Then he would make a fortune, as other Greeks had done, and Amos would be paid in full. He was not extravagant, no; he had the business instincts of his race.
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