The King of Schnorrers: Grotesques and Fantasies. Zangwill Israel

of fashion, in a spangled robe of India muslin, with a diamond necklace and crescent, her head crowned by terraces of curls and flowers.

      "Betsy!" called up a jovial feminine voice from the pit, when the applause had subsided.

      "Betsy" did not move, but her cheeks grew hot and red. She had got on in the world, and did not care to recognise her old crony.

      "Betsy!" iterated the well-meaning woman. "By your life and mine, you must taste a piece of my fried fish." And she held up a slice of cold plaice, beautifully browned.

      Betsy drew back, striving unsuccessfully to look unconscious. To her relief the curtain rose, and The Castle Spectre walked. Yankelé, who had scarcely seen anything but private theatricals, representing the discomfiture of the wicked Haman and the triumph of Queen Esther (a rôle he had once played himself, in his mother's old clothes), was delighted with the thrills and terrors of the ghostly melodrama. It was not till the conclusion of the second act that the emotion the beautiful but injured heroine cost him welled over again into matrimonial speech.

      "Ve vind up de night glorious," he said.

      "I am glad you like it. It is certainly an enjoyable performance," Manasseh answered with stately satisfaction.

      "Your daughter, Deborah," Yankelé ventured timidly, "do she ever go to de play?"

      "No, I do not take my womankind about. Their duty lies at home. As it is written, I call my wife not 'wife' but 'home.'"

      "But dink how dey vould enjoy deirselves!"

      "We are not sent here to enjoy ourselves."

      "True – most true," said Yankelé, pulling a smug face. "Ve be sent here to obey de Law of Moses. But do not remind me I be a sinner in Israel."

      "How so?"

      "I am twenty-five – yet I have no vife."

      "I daresay you had plenty in Poland."

      "By my soul, not. Only von, and her I gave gett (divorce) for barrenness. You can write to de Rabbi of my town."

      "Why should I write? It's not my affair."

      "But I vant it to be your affair."

      Manasseh glared. "Do you begin that again?" he murmured.

      "It is not so much dat I desire your daughter for a vife as you for a fader-in-law."

      "It cannot be!" said Manasseh more gently.

      "Oh dat I had been born a Sephardi!" said Yankelé with a hopeless groan.

      "It is too late now," said da Costa soothingly.

      "Dey say it's never too late to mend," moaned the Pole. "Is dere no vay for me to be converted to Spanish Judaism? I could easily pronounce Hebrew in your superior vay."

      "Our Judaism differs in no essential respect from yours – it is a question of blood. You cannot change your blood. As it is said, 'And the blood is the life.'"

      "I know, I know dat I aspire too high. Oh, vy did you become my friend, vy did you make me believe you cared for me – so dat I tink of you day and night – and now, ven I ask you to be my fader-in-law, you say it cannot be. It is like a knife in de heart! Tink how proud and happy I should be to call you my fader-in-law. All my life vould be devoted to you – my von thought to be vordy of such a man."

      "You are not the first I have been compelled to refuse," said Manasseh, with emotion.

      "Vat helps me dat dere be other Schlemihls (unlucky persons)?" quoted Yankelé, with a sob. "How can I live midout you for a fader-in-law?"

      "I am sorry for you – more sorry than I have ever been."

      "Den you do care for me! I vill not give up hope. I vill not take no for no answer. Vat is dis blood dat it should divide Jew from Jew, dat it should prevent me becoming de son-in-law of de only man I have ever loved? Say not so. Let me ask you again – in a month or a year – even twelve months vould I vait, ven you vould only promise not to pledge yourself to anoder man."

      "But if I became your father-in-law – mind, I only say if – not only would I not keep you, but you would have to keep my Deborah."

      "And supposing?"

      "But you are not able to keep a wife!"

      "Not able? Who told you dat?" cried Yankelé indignantly.

      "You yourself! Why, when I first befriended you, you told me you were blood-poor."

      "Dat I told you as a Schnorrer. But now I speak to you as a suitor."

      "True," admitted Manasseh, instantly appreciating the distinction.

      "And as a suitor I tell you I can schnorr enough to keep two vives."

      "But do you tell this to da Costa the father or da Costa the marriage-broker?"

      "Hush!" from all parts of the house as the curtain went up and the house settled down. But Yankelé was no longer in rapport with the play; the spectre had ceased to thrill and the heroine to touch. His mind was busy with feverish calculations of income, scraping together every penny he could raise by hook or crook. He even drew out a crumpled piece of paper and a pencil, but thrust them back into his pocket when he saw Manasseh's eye.

      "I forgot," he murmured apologetically. "Being at de play made me forget it was de Sabbath." And he pursued his calculations mentally; this being naturally less work.

      When the play was over the two beggars walked out into the cool night air.

      "I find," Yankelé began eagerly in the vestibule, "I make at least von hundred and fifty pounds" – he paused to acknowledge the farewell salutation of the little door-keeper at his elbow – "a hundred and fifty a year."

      "Indeed!" said Manasseh, in respectful astonishment.

      "Yes! I have reckoned it all up. Ten are de sources of charity – "

      "As it is written," interrupted Manasseh with unction, "'With ten sayings was the world created; there were ten generations from Noah to Abraham; with ten trials our father Abraham was tried; ten miracles were wrought for our fathers in Egypt and ten at the Red Sea; and ten things were created on the eve of the Sabbath in the twilight!' And now it shall be added, 'Ten good deeds the poor man affords the rich man.' Proceed, Yankelé."

      "First comes my allowance from de Synagogue – eight pounds. Vonce a veek I call and receive half-a-crown."

      "Is that all? Our Synagogue allows three-and-six."

      "Ah!" sighed the Pole wistfully. "Did I not say you be a superior race?"

      "But that only makes six pound ten!"

      "I know – de oder tirty shillings I allow for Passover cakes and groceries. Den for Synagogue-knocking I get ten guin – "

      "Stop! stop!" cried Manasseh, with a sudden scruple. "Ought I to listen to financial details on the Sabbath?"

      "Certainly, ven dey be connected vid my marriage – vich is a Commandment. It is de Law ve really discuss."

      "You are right. Go on, then. But remember, even if you can prove you can schnorr enough to keep a wife, I do not bind myself to consent."

      "You be already a fader to me – vy vill you not be a fader-in-law? Anyhow, you vill find me a fader-in-law," he added hastily, seeing the blackness gathering again on da Costa's brow.

      "Nay, nay, we must not talk of business on the Sabbath," said Manasseh evasively. "Proceed with your statement of income."

      "Ten guineas for Synagogue-knocking. I have tventy clients who – "

      "Stop a minute! I cannot pass that item."

      "Vy not? It is true."

      "Maybe! But Synagogue-knocking is distinctly work!"

      "Vork?"

      "Well, if going round early in the morning to knock at the doors of twenty pious persons, and rouse them for morning service, isn't work, then the Christian bell-ringer is a beggar. No, no! Profits from this source I cannot regard as legitimate."

      "But