Part 63 (1/2)
”I do. Why should we not have our own country?”
”It would be too chaotic! Fancy all the Ghettos of the world amalgamating. Everybody would want to be amba.s.sador at Paris, as the old joke says.”
”It would be a problem for the statesmen among us. Dissenters, Churchmen, Atheists, Slum Savages, Clodhoppers, Philosophers, Aristocrats--make up Protestant England. It is the popular ignorance of the fact that Jews are as diverse as Protestants that makes such novels as we were discussing at dinner harmful.”
”But is the author to blame for that? He does not claim to present the whole truth but a facet. English society lionized Thackeray for his pictures of it. Good heavens! Do Jews suppose they alone are free from the sn.o.bbery, hypocrisy and vulgarity that have shadowed every society that has ever existed?”
”In no work of art can the spectator be left out of account,” he urged.
”In a world full of smouldering prejudices a sc.r.a.p of paper may start the bonfire. English society can afford to laugh where Jewish society must weep. That is why our papers are always so effusively grateful for Christian compliments. You see it is quite true that the author paints not the Jews but bad Jews, but, in the absence of paintings of good Jews, bad Jews are taken as identical with Jews.”
”Oh, then you agree with the others about the book?” she said in a disappointed tone.
”I haven't read it; I am speaking generally. Have you?”
”Yes.”
”And what did you think of it? I don't remember your expressing an opinion at table.”
She pondered an instant.
”I thought highly of it and agreed with every word of it.” She paused.
He looked expectantly into the dark intense face. He saw it was charged with further speech.
”Till I met you,” she concluded abruptly.
A wave of emotion pa.s.sed over his face.
”You don't mean that?” he murmured.
”Yes, I do. You have shown me new lights.”
”I thought I was speaking plat.i.tudes,” he said simply. ”It would be nearer the truth to say you have given _me_ new lights.”
The little face flushed with pleasure; the dark skin s.h.i.+ning, the eyes sparkling. Esther looked quite pretty.
”How is that possible?” she said. ”You have read and thought twice as much as I.”
”Then you must be indeed poorly off,” he said, smiling. ”But I am really glad we met. I have been asked to edit a new Jewish paper, and our talk has made me see more clearly the lines on which it must be run, if it is to do any good. I am awfully indebted to you.”
”A new Jewish paper?” she said, deeply interested. ”We have so many already. What is its _raison d'etre_?”
”To convert you,” he said smiling, but with a ring of seriousness in the words.
”Isn't that like a steam-hammer cracking a nut or Hoti burning down his house to roast a pig? And suppose I refuse to take in the new Jewish paper? Will it suspend publication?” He laughed.
”What's this about a new Jewish paper?” said Mrs. Goldsmith, suddenly appearing in front of them with her large genial smile. ”Is that what you two have been plotting? I noticed you've laid your heads together all the evening. Ah well, birds of a feather flock together. Do you know my little Esther took the scholars.h.i.+p for logic at London? I wanted her to proceed to the M.A. at once, but the doctor said she must have a rest.” She laid her hand affectionately on the girl's hair.
Esther looked embarra.s.sed.
”And so she is still a Bachelor,” said Raphael, smiling but evidently impressed.