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Updated: May 6, 2025
Raphael stooped down towards the gentle softly-flushing face, which was raised unhesitatingly to meet his, and their lips met in a first kiss, diviner than it is given most mortals to know a kiss, sad and sweet, troth and parting in one: Ave et vale hail and farewell." "Good-bye, Strelitski," said Raphael huskily. "Success to your dreams." The idealist turned round with a start.
"Oh, but I do understand," he protested. "It's what I told Strelitski, who is all for intellect in religion. He is going to America, too," he said, with a sudden pang of jealous apprehension. "On a holiday?" "No; he is going to resign his ministry here." "What! Has he got a better offer from America?" "Still so cruel to him," he said reprovingly. "He is resigning for conscience' sake."
He doesn't like me, either." "Oh, you're both wrong," he said in concern. "Strelitski is a draw, I admit," said Mr. Montagu Samuels, who was the President of a rival synagogue. "But Rosenbaum is a good pull-down on the other side, eh?" Mr. Henry Goldsmith groaned. The second minister of the Kensington synagogue was the scandal of the community. He wasn't expected to preach, and he didn't practise.
Silenced by the stress of a great soul, half dazed by the strange, unexpected revelation, Raphael seated himself, took his pen, and wrote: "We understand that the Rev. Joseph Strelitski has resigned his position in the Kensington Synagogue." Not till he had written it did the full force of the paragraph overwhelm his soul.
"How should I know anything about Miss Ansell?" "I thought you would," said Strelitski, without much disappointment in his tone. "Why?" "Wasn't she your art-critic?" "Who told you that?" "Mrs. Henry Goldsmith." "Oh!" said Raphael. "I thought she might possibly be writing for you still, and so, as I was passing, I thought I'd drop in and inquire. Hasn't anything been heard of her? Where is she?
Promise me you will insert it, though I myself should ask you to cancel it." "But " began Raphael. Strelitski turned away impatiently and groaned. "My God!" he cried hoarsely. "Leon, listen to me," he said, turning round suddenly. "Do you realize what sort of a position you are asking me to keep? Ours is a generation of whited sepulchres."
"Go on, then," said Strelitski. "That will give me a barley-corn. But I've wasted too much' of your time, I fear. Good-bye. Remember your promise." He held out his hand. He had grown quite calm, now his decision was taken. "Good-bye," said Raphael, shaking it warmly. "I think I shall cable to America, 'Behold, Joseph the dreamer cometh." "Dreams are our life," replied Strelitski.
Strelitski, though his position was one of distinction for a Jewish clergyman, was, like Esther, of humble origin; it would be a match which she could bless from her pedestal in genuine good-will towards both parties. The fashionable minister was looking careworn and troubled. He had aged twice ten years since his outburst at the Holy Land League.
Joseph Strelitski, student and cigar commission agent, jumped to his feet and cried passionately in German: "Everywhere Israel groans and travails must we indeed wait and wait till our hearts are sick and strike never a decisive blow? It is nigh two thousand years since across the ashes of our Holy Temple we were driven into the Exile, clanking the chains of Pagan conquerors.
Conservative by instinct, apt to see the elements of good in attacked institutions perhaps, too, a little timid when it came to take action in the tremendous realm of realities he was loth to help Strelitski to so decisive a step, though his whole heart went out to him in brotherly sympathy. "Do not act so hastily," he pleaded.
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