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"That seems unwise, Miss Maud," objected Jones. "To use your foot so soon might make it much worse. Let us postpone the play until some other time." Goldstein's face was a study. His body twitched spasmodically. "Oh, Mr. Jones!" he exclaimed; "that's impossible; it wouldn't do at all!
The brown-legged, black-eyed children, coolly clad in loose white shifts, bare-footed and bare-headed, can play outside now; the little girls, with bright-coloured kerchiefs tied round their heads, and pink or blue petticoats round their waists, vie with the dahlias in hue. On Sunday afternoons it is cool enough to dance in Ignácz Goldstein's barn.
I assumed that they had been taken from Miriam Goldstein's hair-brush; but the sergeant's evidence makes it pretty clear that they were obtained from the very bag of combings from which he took a sample for comparison." "I think, Doctor," remarked the coroner, "you have disposed of the hair clue pretty completely.
The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires. "For me?" she said, with a gasp of delight. "For your pretty arm, yes," he replied. "Shall I put it on?" She cast a swift, apprehensive glance round the room over his shoulder. "No, no, not now," she said quickly. "Why not?"
Even before she had had time to formulate a question she knew that some terrible calamity had occurred. In jerky phrases, broken by moans and interjections, the mother had blurted out the news: Erös Béla was dead he had been found just now murdered outside Klara Goldstein's door there would be no wedding Elsa was a widow before she had been a bride.
It reminds me, says I, 'of Goldstein's beautiful ballad entitled "The Deserted Village," which says: 'Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, What art can drive its charms away? The judge rode slowly down the lane, mother. For I'm to be Queen of the May. "'Why, yes, Mr. Peters, says the storekeeper.
That he had done so before the thirty men had arrived on the cliff was, of course, fairly clear, but how he had come over in Reuben Goldstein's cart, all the way from Calais, without being sighted by the various patrols on duty was impossible of explanation.
Béla seemed in boisterous good-humour with somewhat ostentatious hilarity he greeted all his friends, and then ordered some of Ignácz Goldstein's best wine for everybody all round. "Bravo, Béla!" came from every side, together with loud applause at this unexpected liberality. "It is nice of you not to forget old friends," Klara whispered in his ear, as soon as he succeeded in reaching her side.
By the time that Andor turned the corner of the house into the street, he found that the news of his arrival had already spread through the village like wildfire. Klara Goldstein's ready tongue had been at work this past hour; she had quickly disseminated the news that the wanderer had come home.
But Leopold Hirsch had remained for a moment standing on the doorstep of Ignácz Goldstein's house. He watched horse and rider through that cloud of dust, and along the straight and broad highway, until both had become a mere speck upon the low-lying horizon. "May you break your accursed neck!" he muttered fervently. Then he went back to the tap-room. "You happen to be of my race and of my blood."
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