o come on as a poor Jewess and sing
to fashionable Christians."

"It would be effective," said Hans, with a considering air; "it would
stand out well among the fashionable _chiffons_."

"But you ought not to claim all the poverty on your side, Mirah," said
Amy. "There are plenty of poor Christians and dreadfully rich Jews and
fashionable Jewesses."

"I didn't mean any harm," said Mirah. "Only I have been used to
thinking about my dress for parts in plays. And I almost always had a
part with a plain dress."

"That makes me think it questionable," said Hans, who had suddenly
become as fastidious and conventional on this occasion as he had
thought Deronda was, apropos of the Berenice-pictures. "It looks a
little too theatrical. We must not make you a _role_ of the poor
Jewess--or of being a Jewess at all." Hans had a secret desire to
neutralize the Jewess in private life, which he was in danger of not
keeping secret.

"But it is what I am really. I am not pretending anything. I shall
never be anything else," said Mirah. "I always feel myself a Jewess."

"But we can't feel that about you," said Hans, with a devout look.
"What does it signify whether a perfect woman is a Jewess or not?"

"That is your kind way of praising me; I never was praised so before,"
said Mirah, with a smile, which was rather maddening to Hans and made
him feel still more of a cosmopolitan.

"People don't think of me as a British Christian," he said, his face
creasing merrily. "They think of me as an imperfectly handsome young
man and an unpromising painter."

"But you are wandering from the dress," said Amy. "If that will not do,
how are we to get another before Wednesday? and to-morrow Sunday?"

"Indeed this will do," said Mirah, entreatingly. "It is all real, you
know," here she looked at Hans--"even if it seemed theatrical. Poor
Berenice sitting on the ruins--any one might say that was theatrical,
but I know that this is just what she would do."

"I am a scoundrel," said Hans, overcome by this misplaced trust. "That
is my invention. Nobody knows that she did that. Shall you forgive me
for not saying so before?"

"Oh, yes," said Mirah, after a momentary pause of surprise. "You knew
it was what she would be sure to do--a Jewess who had not been
faithful--who had done what she did and was penitent. She could have no
joy but to afflict herself; and where else would she go? I think it is
very beautiful that you should enter so into what