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Updated: June 8, 2025
He looked at her quizzingly. "No, dear," she said earnestly. "There's only Levi Jacobs, Reb Shemuel's son, who's been coming round sometimes to play with Solomon, and brings me almond-rock. But I don't care for him at least not in that way. Besides, he's quite above us." "Oh, is he? Wait till I write my novels!" "I wish you'd write them now. Because then I should have something to read Oh!"
Why, they got me to bless them in the Transvaal last Yom Kippur. So you see I'm anything but a sinner in Israel." He laughed but his laugh ended abruptly. Reb Shemuel's face had grown white. His hands were trembling. "What is the matter? You are ill," cried David. The old man shook his head. Then he struck his brow with his fist. "Ach, Gott!" he cried. "Why did I not think of finding out before?
I shouldn't wonder if she becomes one like that blackguard, David Brandon; I always told my Milly he was not the sort of person to allow across the threshold. It was Sam Levine who brought him. You see what comes of having the son of a proselyte in the family! Some say Reb Shemuel's daughter narrowly escaped being engaged to him. But that story has a beard already.
There is Reb Shemuel's daughter a fine beautiful virgin. I kiss her hand and it is ice to my lips. Ah, if I only had money! And money I should have, if these English Jews were not so stupid and if they elected me Chief Rabbi. Then I would marry one, two, three maidens." "Talk not such foolishness," said Guedalyah, laughing, for he thought the poet jested.
"My Hannah will teach you, God bless her." Reb Shemuel's voice was a bit husky. He bent down and kissed Hannah's forehead. "I was a bit link myself before I married my Simcha" he added encouragingly. "No, no, not you," said David, smiling in response to the twinkle in the Reb's eye. "I warrant you never skipped a Mitzvah even as a bachelor."
"It was Shmool's sister that married Hyam Robins, wasn't it, mother?" asked Milly, incautiously. "Certainly not," thundered Malka. "I knew old Benjamin well, and he sent me a pair of chintz curtains when I married your father." "Poor old Benjamin! How long has he been dead?" mused Reb Shemuel's wife. "He died the year I was confined with my Leah "
His resolution was taken within a few brief seconds of the tragic rencontre. With wonderful self-possession, he nodded to the cabman who had put the question, and whose vehicle was drawn up opposite the restaurant. Hastily he helped the unconscious Gladys into the hansom. He was putting his foot on the step himself when Reb Shemuel's paralysis relaxed suddenly.
And like a spirit she glided from his grasp and disappeared in the crowd. The New Year dawned upon the Ghetto, heralded by a month of special matins and the long-sustained note of the ram's horn. It was in the midst of the Ten Days of Repentance which find their awful climax in the Day of Atonement that a strange letter for Hannah came to startle the breakfast-table at Reb Shemuel's.
Reb Shemuel's wife, commonly known as the Rebbitzin, was a tall woman with a bony nose and shrivelled cheeks, whereon the paths of the blood-vessels were scrawled in red. The same bones were visible beneath the plumper padding of Hannah's face. Mrs. Jacobs had escaped the temptation to fatness, which is the besetting peril of the Jewish matron.
She was crouching on the fender trying to get some warmth at the little fire extracted from Reb Shemuel's half-crown. December continued gray; the room was dim and a spurt of flame played on her pale earnest face.
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