ge.
Old Trendellsohn was eighty, and yet he would be seen trudging about
through the streets of Prague, intent upon his business of money-making;
and it was said that his son Anton was not even as yet actually in
partnership with him, or fully trusted by him in all his plans.

"Father," Nina said, "I am glad that Anton is out, as now I can speak a
word to you."

"My dear, you shall speak fifty words."

"That is very good of you. Of course I know that the house we live in
does in truth belong to you and Anton."

"Yes, it belongs to me," said the Jew.

"And we can pay no rent for it."

"Is it of that you have come to speak, Nina? If so, do not trouble
yourself. For certain reasons, which Anton can explain, I am willing
that your father should live there without rent."

Nina blushed as she found herself compelled to thank the Jew for his
charity. "I know how kind you have been to father," she said.

"Nay, my daughter, there has been no great kindness in it. Your father
has been unfortunate, and, Jew as I am, I would not turn him into the
street. Do not trouble yourself to think of it."

"But it was not altogether about that, father. Anton spoke to me the
other day about some deeds which should belong to you."

"They do belong to me," said Trendellsohn.

"But you have them not in your own keeping."

"No, we have not. It is, I believe, the creed of a Christian that
he may deal dishonestly with a Jew, though the Jew who shall deal
dishonestly with a Christian is to be hanged. It is strange what
latitude men will give themselves under the cloak of their religion!
But why has Anton spoken to you of this? I did not bid him."

"He sent me with a message to my aunt Sophie."

"He was wrong; he was very foolish; he should have gone himself."

"But, father, I have found out that the papers you want are certainly
in my uncle's keeping in the Ross Markt."

"Of course they are, my dear. Anton might have known that without
employing you."

So far Nina had performed but a small part of the task which she had
before her. She found it easier to talk to the old man about the
title-deeds of the house in the Kleinseite than she did to tell him of
her own affairs. But the thing was to be done, though the doing of it
was difficult; and, after a pause, she persevered. "And I told aunt
Sophie," she said, with her eyes turned upon the ground, "of my
engagement with Anton."

"You did?"

"Yes; and I told father."

"And what