ousand pounds; this fact he
communicated to me one evening about an hour after the close of 'Change;
the hour at which I generally called, and at which I mostly found him at
home.

'Well,' said I, 'and what do you intend to do next?'

'I scarcely know,' said the Armenian. 'I was thinking of that when you
came in. I don't see anything that I can do, save going on in my former
course. After all, I was perhaps too moderate in making the possession
of two hundred thousand pounds the summit of my ambition; there are many
individuals in this town who possess three times that sum, and are not
yet satisfied. No, I think I can do no better than pursue the old
career; who knows but I may make the two hundred thousand three or
four?--there is already a surplus, which is an encouragement; however, we
will consider the matter over a goblet of wine; I have observed of late
that you have become partial to my Cyprus.'

And it came to pass that, as we were seated over the Cyprus wine, we
heard a knock at the door. 'Adelante!' cried the Armenian; whereupon the
door opened, and in walked a somewhat extraordinary figure--a man in a
long loose tunic of a stuff striped with black and yellow; breeches of
plush velvet, silk stockings, and shoes with silver buckles. On his head
he wore a high-peaked hat; he was tall, had a hooked nose, and in age was
about fifty.

'Welcome, Rabbi Manasseh,' said the Armenian. 'I know your knock--you
are welcome; sit down.'

'I am welcome,' said Manasseh, sitting down; 'he--he--he! you know my
knock--I bring you money--_bueno_!'

There was something very peculiar in the sound of that bueno--I never
forgot it.

Thereupon a conversation ensued between Rabbi Manasseh and the Armenian,
in a language which I knew to be Spanish, though a peculiar dialect. It
related to a mercantile transaction. The Rabbi sighed heavily as he
delivered to the other a considerable sum of money.

'It is right,' said the Armenian, handing a receipt. 'It is right; and I
am quite satisfied.'

'You are satisfied--you have taken money. _Bueno_, I have nothing to say
against your being satisfied.'

'Come, Rabbi,' said the Armenian, 'do not despond; it may be your turn
next to take money; in the meantime, can't you be persuaded to taste my
Cyprus?'

'He--he--he! senor, you know I do not love wine. I love Noah when he is
himself; but, as Janus, I love him not. But you are merry; _bueno_, you
have a right to be so.'