rom the Ghetto, where cleanliness, so far from being next to
godliness, is nowhere in the vicinity. But what can I do for you?"

"I don't know. At present the staff, the _Flag_-staff as Sidney calls
it, consists of myself and a sub-editor, who take it in turn to
translate the only regular outside contributor's articles into English."

"Who's that?"

"Melchitsedek Pinchas, the poet I told you of."

"I suppose he writes in Hebrew."

"No, if he did the translation would be plain sailing enough. The
trouble is that he will write in English. I must admit, though, he
improves daily. Our correspondents, too, have the same weakness for the
vernacular, and I grieve to add that when they do introduce a Hebrew
word, they do not invariably spell it correctly."

She smiled; her smile was never so fascinating as by firelight.

Raphael rose and paced the room nervously, flinging out his arms in
uncouth fashion to emphasize his speech.

"I was thinking you might introduce a secular department of some sort
which would brighten up the paper. My articles are so plaguy dull."

"Not so dull, for religious articles," she assured him.

"Could you treat Jewish matters from a social standpoint--gossipy sort
of thing."

She shook her head. "I'm afraid to trust myself to write on Jewish
subjects. I should be sure to tread on somebody's corns."

"Oh, I have it!" he cried, bringing his arms in contact with a small
Venetian vase which Esther, with great presence of mind, just managed to
catch ere it reached the ground.

"No, I have it," she said, laughing. "Do sit down, else nobody can
answer for the consequences."

She half pushed him into his chair, where he fell to warming his hands
contemplatively.

"Well?" she said after a pause. "I thought you had an idea."

"Yes, yes," he said, rousing himself. "The subject we were just
discussing--Art."

"But there is nothing Jewish about art."

"All noble work has its religious aspects. Then there are Jewish
artists."

"Oh yes! your contemporaries do notice their exhibits, and there seem to
be more of them than the world ever hears of. But if I went to a
gathering for you how should I know which were Jews?"

"By their names, of course."

"By no means of course. Some artistic Jews have forgotten their own
names."

"That's a dig at Sidney."

"Really, I wasn't thinking of him for the moment," she said a little
sharply. "However, in any case there's nothing worth doing till May, an