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But the completest tragedy has its compensations for some one. The pitiable arrival of Mr Levinski at "The Duke's Head," unrecognized and with his fur coat slightly ruffled, might make a sceptic of the most devout optimist, and yet Eustace Merrowby can never look back upon that evening without a sigh of thankfulness; for to him it was the beginning of his career.
The story has often been told since in about a dozen weekly papers, half a dozen daily papers and three dozen provincial papers but it will always bear telling again. There was no train to London that night, and Mr Levinski had been compelled to put up at "The Duke's Head." However, he had dined and was feeling slightly better. He summoned the manager of the hotel.
"What does one do in this dam place?" he asked with a yawn. The manager, instantly recognizing that he was speaking to a member of the aristocracy, made haste to reply. Othello was being played at the town theatre. His daughter, who had already been three times, told him that it was simply sweet. He was sure his lordship ... Mr Levinski dismissed him, and considered the point.
Have you forgotten Pollak, and what happened in the shop of Levinski, the furrier? Where is Pollak?" A slow grin overspread the face of Sven Larsen. "I invented Pollak to cover a mistake I made. There never was any Pollak, Wentworth, but there is a Russian sable coat. The coat is in your trunk in the cabin. It is the coat you stole from Miss McNabb on the night of the Campbell dinner."
Then, when his absence from the office first began to be noticed, it would be time to think of retiring on an adequate pension. Mr Levinski, the famous actor-manager, dragged himself from beneath the car, took the snow out of his mouth, and swore heartily.
We were poor, dreadfully poor, like all the Jews Oh yes; didn't you know I'm a Jew?" "Then 'Lilas Lynn' ?" "Stage name. It's really Lily Levinski. We were Polish. I was dragged up, along with the other workmen's children, in the soot and grime of the Pennsylvania mills. We never saw anything green; nothing grew in our town.
It had been her intention to call Lorelei to witness this dramatic disclosure and thus enhance its effect, but in the excitement of the moment she forgot. "Look at me," she repeated. "I'm Lily Levinski." "Levinski. A Jew?" he exclaimed, in naive surprise. "Yes. I'm Joe Levinski's girl. Don't you remember?"
Tommy is the Kaffir boy who looks after the farm. It is a black part, like your present one, but not so long. In London you cannot expect to take the leading parts just yet." "This is very kind of you," cried Eustace gratefully. "I have always longed to get to London. And to start in your theatre! it's a wonderful chance." "Good," said Mr Levinski. "Then that's settled."
You killed my mother, too, Jarvis Hammon, and made me a a You made me hustle my living in the streets, and go through hell to get it." "Be quiet!" he commanded, roughly. "The thing's incredible absurd. You the daughter of one of my workmen and a JEW!" "Yes. Levinski Lily Levinski. And you wanted to marry me," she gibed. "But I fooled you." "I guess I must be out of my head.
Who was Pollak, and where did the ship take you?" "It was in London in the place of Levinski, the furrier. Pollak and I worked for him in the sorting of skins. The ship took me to Port Nelson. It was a Hudson's Bay Company ship, and I hired out to the Company and they sent me here to Gods Lake. I like it here." "So that's it, is it? Well, now you listen to me.
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