"I say she"s the sweetest girl in all Prague; and more"s the pity she should have taken such a fancy as this."
"She mustn"t marry him, of course, Souchey."
"Not if it can be helped, Lotta."
"It must be helped. You and I must help it, if no one else can do so."
"That"s easy said, Lotta."
"We can do it, if we are minded--that is, if you are minded. Only think what a thing it would be for her to be the wife of a Jew! Think of her soul, Souchey!"
Souchey shuddered. He did not like being told of people"s souls, feeling probably that the misfortunes of this world were quite heavy enough for a poor wight like himself, without any addition in antic.i.p.ation of futurity. "Think of her soul, Souchey," repeated Lotta, who was at all points a good churchwoman.
"It"s bad enough any way," said Souchey.
"And there"s our Ziska would take her to-morrow in spite of the Jew."
"Would he now?"
"That he would, without anything but what she stands up in. And he"d behave very handsome to anyone that would help him."
"He"d be the first of his name that ever did, then. I have known the time when old Balatka there, poor as he is now, would give a florin when Karil Zamenoy begrudged six kreutzers."
"And what has come of such giving? Josef Balatka is poor, and Karil Zamenoy bids fair to be as rich as any merchant in Prague. But no matter about that. Will you give a helping hand? There is nothing I wouldn"t do for you, Souchey, if we could manage this between us."
"Would you now?" And Souchey drew near, as though some closer bargain might be practicable between them.
"I would indeed; but, Souchey, talking won"t do it."
"What will do it?"
Lotta paused a moment, looking round the room carefully, till suddenly her eyes fell on a certain article which lay on Nina"s work-table.
"What am I to do?" said Souchey, anxious to be at work with the prospect of so great a reward.
"Never mind," said Lotta, whose tone of voice was suddenly changed.
"Never mind it now at least. And, Souchey, I think you"d better go to your work. We"ve been gossiping here ever so long."
"Perhaps five minutes; and what does it signify?"
"She"d think it so odd to find us here together in the parlour."
"Not odd at all."
"Just as though we"d been listening to what they"d been saying. Go now, Souchey--there"s a good fellow; and I"ll come again the day after to-morrow and tell you. Go, I say. There are things that I must think of by myself." And in this way she got Souchey to leave the room.
"Josef," said Madame Zamenoy, as she took her place standing by Balatka"s bedside--"Josef, this is very terrible." Nina also was standing close by her father"s head, with her hand upon her father"s pillow. Balatka groaned, but made no immediate answer.
"It is terrible, horrible, abominable, and d.a.m.nable," said Madame Zamenoy, bringing out one epithet after the other with renewed energy.
Balatka groaned again. What could he say in reply to such an address?
"Aunt Sophie," said Nina, "do not speak to father like that. He is ill."
"Child," said Madame Zamenoy, "I shall speak as I please. I shall speak as my duty bids me speak. Josef, this that I hear is very terrible. It is hardly to be believed that any Christian girl should think of marrying--a Jew."
"What can I do?" said the father. "How can I prevent her?"
"How can you prevent her, Josef? Is she not your daughter? Does she mean to say, standing there, that she will not obey her father? Tell me. Nina, will you or will you not obey your father?"
"That is his affair, aunt Sophie; not yours."
"His affair! It is his affair, and my affair, and all our affairs.
Impudent girl!--brazen-faced, impudent, bad girl! Do you not know that you would bring disgrace upon us all?"
"You are thinking about yourself, aunt Sophie; and I must think for myself."
"You do not regard your father, then?"
"Yes, I do regard my father. He knows that I regard him. Father, is it true that I do not regard you?"
"She is a good daughter," said the father.
"A good daughter, and talk of marrying a Jew!" said Madame Zamenoy.
"Has she your permission for such a marriage? Tell me that at once, Josef, that I may know. Has she your sanction for--for--for this accursed abomination?" Then there was silence in the room for a few moments. "You can at any rate answer a plain question, Josef,"
continued Madame Zamenoy. "Has Nina your leave to betroth herself to the Jew, Trendellsohn?"
"No, I have not got his leave," said Nina.
"I am speaking to your father, miss," said the enraged aunt.
"Yes; you are speaking very roughly to father, and he is ill. Therefore I answer for him."
"And has he not forbidden you to think of marrying this Jew?"
"No, he has not," said Nina.
"Josef, answer for yourself like a man," said Madame Zamenoy. "Have you not forbidden this marriage? Do you not forbid it now? Let me at any rate hear you say that you have forbidden it." But Balatka found silence to be his easiest course, and answered not at all. "What am I to think of this?" continued Madame Zamenoy. "It cannot be that you wish your child to be the wife of a Jew!"
"You are to think, aunt Sophie, that father is ill, and that he cannot stand against your violence."
"Violence, you wicked girl! It is you that are violent."
"Will you come out into the parlour, aunt?"
"No, I will not come out into the parlour. I will not stir from this spot till I have told your father all that I think about it.
Ill, indeed! What matters illness when it is a question of eternal d.a.m.nation!" Madame Zamenoy put so much stress upon the latter word that her brother-in-law almost jumped from under the bed-clothes. Nina raised herself, as she was standing, to her full height, and a smile of derision came upon her face. "Oh, yes! I daresay you do not mind it,"
said Madame Zamenoy. "I daresay you can laugh now at all the pains of h.e.l.l. Castaways such as you are always blind to their own danger; but your father, I hope, has not fallen so far as to care nothing for his religion, though he seems to have forgotten what is due to his family."
"I have forgotten nothing," said old Balatka.