money. Such a blow to his vanity would cost you
dear. Go in; I did not tell him _you_ were the young man he was
telling me of. I must fly.' The P. Z shook David's hand. 'Don't forget
he's the bourgeois type of Zionist; his object is not to create the
future, but to resurrect the dead past.'

'And mine is to keep alive the living present. Won't you----?' But the
doctor was gone.

The Mizrachi Z.Z. proved unexpectedly small in stature and owl-like in
expression; but his 'Be seated, sir--be seated; what can I do for
you?' had the grand manner. It evoked a resentful chord in David.

'It is something I propose to do for you,' he said bluntly. 'Milovka
is in danger.'

'It is, indeed,' said the M.Z.Z. 'When men like Dr. Lerkoff (in whose
company I was sorry to see you) command a hearing, it is in deadly
danger. An excellent physician, but you know the Talmudical saying:
"Hell awaits even the best of physicians." And he calls himself a
Zionist! Bah! he's more dangerous than that young renegade spy who
dubs himself P.P.S.'

'But he seems very zealous for Zion,' said David uneasily.

Herr Cantberg shook his head dolefully. 'He'd introduce vaccination
and serum-insertions instead of the grand old laws. As if any human
arrangement could equal the wisdom of Sinai! And he actually scoffs at
the Restoration of the Sacrifices!'

'But do you propose to restore them?' David was astonished.

The owl's eyes shone. 'What have we sacrificed ourselves for, all
these centuries, if not for the Sacrifices? What has sanctified and
illumined the long night of our Exile except a vision of the High
Priest in his jewelled breastplate officiating again at the altar of
our Holy Temple? Now at last the vision begins to take shape, the hope
of Israel begins to shine again. Like a rosy cloud, like a crescent
moon, like a star in the desert, like a lighthouse over lonely
seas----'

The telephone impolitely interrupted him. His fine frenzy disregarded
the ringing, but it jangled his metaphors. 'But, alas! our people do
not see clearly!' he broke off. 'False prophets, colossally vain--may
their names be blotted out!--confuse the foolish crowd. But the wheat
is being sifted from the chaff, the fine flour from the bran, the
edible herbs from the evil weeds, and soon my people will see again
that only I----'

The telephone insisted on a hearing. Having refused to buy furs at the
price it demanded, he resumed: 'Territorialist traitors mislead the
m