at my eyes should behold the
return of the Divine Glory to Zion. That mercy I no longer expect in
my own days, inasmuch as the Sultan hardens his heart and will not
give us back our land, not though Moses our Master appears to him
every night, and beats him with his rod. But at least my eyes shall
behold the land of Israel.'

'Amen!' said Yossel, still propped assertively on his crutches. The
grandson turned upon the interrupter. 'But you can't take her _with_
you?'

'Why not?' said Yossel calmly.

Schneemann found himself expatiating upon the responsibility of
looking after such an old woman; it seemed too absurd to talk of the
scandal. That was left for the grandmother to emphasize.

'Would you have me arrive alone in Palestine?' she interposed
impatiently. 'Think of the talk it would make in Jerusalem! And should
I even be permitted to land? They say the Sultan's soldiers stand at
the landing-place like the angels at the gates of Paradise with
swords that turn every way. But Yossel is cunning in the customs of
the heathen; he will explain to the soldiers that he is an Austrian
subject, and that I am his _Frau_.'

'What! Pass you off as his _Frau_!'

'Who speaks of passing off? He could say I was his sister, as Abraham
our Father said of Sarah. But that was a sin in the sight of Heaven,
and therefore as our sages explain----'

'It is simpler to be married,' Yossel interrupted.

'Married!' echoed the artist angrily.

'The witnesses are coming to my lodging this afternoon,' Yossel
continued calmly. 'Dovidel and Yitzkoly from the _Beth Hamedrash_.'

'They think they are only coming to a farewell glass of brandy,'
chuckled the grandmother. 'But they will find themselves at a secret
wedding.'

'And to-morrow we shall depart publicly for Trieste,' Yossel wound up
calmly.

'But this is too absurd!' the artist broke in. 'I forbid this
marriage!'

A violent expression of amazement overspread the ancient dame's face,
and the tone of the far-away years came into her voice. 'Silence,
Vroomkely, or I'll smack your face. Do you forget you are talking to
your grandmother?'

'I think Mr. Mandelstein forgets it,' the artist retorted, turning
upon the heroic hunchback. 'Do you mean to say you are going to marry
my grandmother?'

'And why not?' asked Yossel. 'Is there a greater lover of God in all
Galicia?'

'Hush, Yossel, I am a great sinner.' But her old face was radiant.
She turned to her grandson. 'Don't be a