If she were a Jewish
woman she would be summoned before the Beth Din, and in better days our
law of Moses would have stoned her. Shall she, because she is a
Christian, dishonour a good Jewish house? No! The hand of the Lord would
go out against me."
"But she is homeless, and she hath been a good servant to thee, Israel.
Give her time to find another shelter."
There was a moment of silence after that, and then the Jew said:
"Very well! It shall not be said that Israel Abramovitch knows not to
temper justice with mercy."
And then, my face being still down, I heard him saying over my head:
"You may stay here another week. After that I wash my hands of thee."
With these hard words he turned away, and I heard him going heavily down
the stairs. His wife stayed a little longer, saying something in a kind
voice, which I did not comprehend, and then she followed him.
I do not think I had spoken a word. I continued to stand where the Jew
had left me. After a while I heard him closing and locking the door of
his own apartment, and knew that he was going off to his synagogue in
Brick Lane in his tall silk hat worn on the back of his head like a
skull-cap, and with his wife and daughter behind him, carrying his
leather-bound prayer-book.
Pages:
922
923
924
925
926
927
928
929
930
931
932
933
934
935
936
937
938
939
940
941
942
943
944
945
946