The King of Schnorrers: Grotesques and Fantasies. Zangwill Israel

added winningly: "I know you are a gentleman, capable of behaving as finely as any Sephardi."

      This handsome compliment completed the Schnorrer's victory, which was sealed by his saying, "And so I should not like you to have it on your soul that you had done a poor man out of a few shillings."

      Grobstock could only remark meekly: "You will find more than seventeen shillings in the bag."

      "Ah, why were you born a Tedesco!" cried Manasseh ecstatically. "Do you know what I have a mind to do? To come and be your Sabbath-guest! Yes, I will take supper with you next Friday, and we will welcome the Bride – the holy Sabbath – together! Never before have I sat at the table of a Tedesco – but you – you are a man after my own heart. Your soul is a son of Spain. Next Friday at six – do not forget."

      "But – but I do not have Sabbath-guests," faltered Grobstock.

      "Not have Sabbath-guests! No, no, I will not believe you are of the sons of Belial, whose table is spread only for the rich, who do not proclaim your equality with the poor even once a week. It is your fine nature that would hide its benefactions. Do not I, Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa, have at my Sabbath-table every week Yankelé ben Yitzchok – a Pole? And if I have a Tedesco at my table, why should I draw the line there? Why should I not permit you, a Tedesco, to return the hospitality to me, a Sephardi? At six, then! I know your house well – it is an elegant building that does credit to your taste – do not be uneasy – I shall not fail to be punctual. A Dios!"

      This time he waved his stick fraternally, and stalked down a turning. For an instant Grobstock stood glued to the spot, crushed by a sense of the inevitable. Then a horrible thought occurred to him.

      Easy-going man as he was, he might put up with the visitation of Manasseh. But then he had a wife, and, what was worse, a livery servant. How could he expect a livery servant to tolerate such a guest? He might fly from the town on Friday evening, but that would necessitate troublesome explanations. And Manasseh would come again the next Friday. That was certain. Manasseh would be like grim death – his coming, though it might be postponed, was inevitable. Oh, it was too terrible. At all costs he must revoke the invitation(?). Placed between Scylla and Charybdis, between Manasseh and his manservant, he felt he could sooner face the former.

      "Da Costa!" he called in agony. "Da Costa!"

      The Schnorrer turned, and then Grobstock found he was mistaken in imagining he preferred to face da Costa.

      "You called me?" enquired the beggar.

      "Ye – e – s," faltered the East India Director, and stood paralysed.

      "What can I do for you?" said Manasseh graciously.

      "Would you mind – very much – if I – if I asked you – "

      "Not to come," was in his throat, but stuck there.

      "If you asked me – " said Manasseh encouragingly.

      "To accept some of my clothes," flashed Grobstock, with a sudden inspiration. After all, Manasseh was a fine figure of a man. If he could get him to doff those musty garments of his he might almost pass him off as a prince of the blood, foreign by his beard – at any rate he could be certain of making him acceptable to the livery servant. He breathed freely again at this happy solution of the situation.

      "Your cast-off clothes?" asked Manasseh. Grobstock was not sure whether the tone was supercilious or eager. He hastened to explain. "No, not quite that. Second-hand things I am still wearing. My old clothes were already given away at Passover to Simeon the Psalms-man. These are comparatively new."

      "Then I would beg you to excuse me," said Manasseh, with a stately wave of the bag.

      "Oh, but why not?" murmured Grobstock, his blood running cold again.

      "I cannot," said Manasseh, shaking his head.

      "But they will just about fit you," pleaded the philanthropist.

      "That makes it all the more absurd for you to give them to Simeon the Psalms-man," said Manasseh sternly. "Still, since he is your clothes-receiver, I could not think of interfering with his office. It is not etiquette. I am surprised you should ask me if I should mind. Of course I should mind – I should mind very much."

      "But he is not my clothes-receiver," protested Grobstock. "Last Passover was the first time I gave them to him, because my cousin, Hyam Rosenstein, who used to have them, has died."

      "But surely he considers himself your cousin's heir," said Manasseh. "He expects all your old clothes henceforth."

      "No. I gave him no such promise."

      Manasseh hesitated.

      "Well, in that case – "

      "In that case," repeated Grobstock breathlessly.

      "On condition that I am to have the appointment permanently, of course."

      "Of course," echoed Grobstock eagerly.

      "Because you see," Manasseh condescended to explain, "it hurts one's reputation to lose a client."

      "Yes, yes, naturally," said Grobstock soothingly. "I quite understand." Then, feeling himself slipping into future embarrassments, he added timidly, "Of course they will not always be so good as the first lot, because – "

      "Say no more," Manasseh interrupted reassuringly, "I will come at once and fetch them."

      "No. I will send them," cried Grobstock, horrified afresh.

      "I could not dream of permitting it. What! Shall I put you to all that trouble which should rightly be mine? I will go at once – the matter shall be settled without delay, I promise you; as it is written, 'I made haste and delayed not!' Follow me!" Grobstock suppressed a groan. Here had all his manœuvring landed him in a worse plight than ever. He would have to present Manasseh to the livery servant without even that clean face which might not unreasonably have been expected for the Sabbath. Despite the text quoted by the erudite Schnorrer, he strove to put off the evil hour.

      "Had you not better take the salmon home to your wife first?" said he.

      "My duty is to enable you to complete your good deed at once. My wife is unaware of the salmon. She is in no suspense."

      Even as the Schnorrer spake it flashed upon Grobstock that Manasseh was more presentable with the salmon than without it – in fact, that the salmon was the salvation of the situation. When Grobstock bought fish he often hired a man to carry home the spoil. Manasseh would have all the air of such a loafer. Who would suspect that the fish and even the bag belonged to the porter, though purchased with the gentleman's money? Grobstock silently thanked Providence for the ingenious way in which it had contrived to save his self-respect. As a mere fish-carrier Manasseh would attract no second glance from the household; once safely in, it would be comparatively easy to smuggle him out, and when he did come on Friday night it would be in the metamorphosing glories of a body-coat, with his unspeakable undergarment turned into a shirt and his turban knocked into a cocked hat.

      They emerged into Aldgate, and then turned down Leman Street, a fashionable quarter, and so into Great Prescott Street. At the critical street corner Grobstock's composure began to desert him: he took out his handsomely ornamented snuff-box and administered to himself a mighty pinch. It did him good, and he walked on and was well nigh arrived at his own door when Manasseh suddenly caught him by a coat button.

      "Stand still a second," he cried imperatively.

      "What is it?" murmured Grobstock, in alarm.

      "You have spilt snuff all down your coat front," Manasseh replied severely. "Hold the bag a moment while I brush it off."

      Joseph obeyed, and Manasseh scrupulously removed every particle with such patience that Grobstock's was exhausted.

      "Thank you," he said at last, as politely as he could. "That will do."

      "No, it will not do," replied Manasseh. "I cannot have my coat spoiled. By the time it comes to me it will be a mass of stains if I don't look after it."

      "Oh, is that why you took so much trouble?" said Grobstock, with an uneasy laugh.

      "Why