to get out of Jankiel's hands, and though he was the
taller and stronger, Jankiel was nimbler, and despair redoubled his
energy. Struggling and panting, both rolled towards the door, and the
young gentleman looked at the struggle with an amused expression.
Meir's pale face towering above Jankiel's red head suddenly flushed.

"Do you laugh at me, gracious lord?" he said brokenly.

"You do not know how difficult it is for me to speak, but guard your
house from fire!"

At these last words he disappeared through the door, which the
panting Jankiel slammed after him.

The lord of Kamionka still smiled. The struggle between the nimble,
red-haired Jankiel and the tall young Jew looked very funny. During
the battle the long coat tails had flapped about like wings, and
Jankiel, in his desperate efforts to get rid of the intruder, had
performed the most extraordinary acrobatic feats. It was a ridiculous
scene altogether--the more ridiculous as the combatants belonged to a
race at which it was an old, time-honoured custom to laugh. How could
the young nobleman understand the deeper meaning of the play enacted
before him? He saw before him a young Jew who spoke in broken Polish,
the grandson of a merchant, and who would be, in his turn, a
merchant. That he was a noble spirit in rebellion against everything
mean and dishonest, a despairing spirit longing for freedom and wider
knowledge, that coming to him as he did he had done an heroic action
that would destroy his whole future--of all this the nobleman had not
the slightest suspicion.

After a short pause he looked at Jankiel, and asked:

"Explain to me now; what did it all mean? What kind of a man is he
really?"

"What kind of man?" said Jankiel, who seemingly had regained his
composure. "It was a stupid affair, and I beg the gracious lord's
pardon that it should have happened to him under my roof. He is a
madman and very spiteful. He went mad from mere spitefulness."

"Hm!" said the young gentleman. "He did not look like a madman. He
has a handsome face and an intelligent one."

"He is not altogether mad--" began Jankiel, but the lord interrupted
him.

"He is the grandson of Saul Ezofowich?" he asked, thoughtfully.

"He is Saul's grandson; but his grandfather does not like him."

"Whether he likes him or not, I could scarcely ask his grandfather
about him."

"On the contrary, ask him, gracious lord, what he thinks of his
grandson," exclaimed Jankiel triumphantl