astle square. Many a time
Gabriel cast a look of questioning entreaty upon Rebecca, but she saw it
not; she seemed to see nothing whatever, for her eyes were gazing afar
off; like a somnambulist, she strode along, and even when the baby in her
arms began to cry she took no notice of it, nor sought to comfort it with
tender, soothing words. At last they had passed the gate behind the willow
bank, and found themselves without the city. There stood the wagon waiting
for them, covered with a tilt of gray canvas. The Jewish boy who sat on
the back seat under the canvas awning had fallen asleep, resting his head
against the great wooden arch to which the cover was secured. The two lean
little horses were greedily eating of the oats in the dirty bags around
their necks. Not a creature was to be seen. The wretched conveyance had
excited no attention whatever, and caused not a single passer-by to pause.

Rebecca stepped up to the wagon and gently laid the child in the straw
with which the vehicle was filled. Then, with a silent wave of the hand,
she ordered Gabriel to set down the trunk he was carrying. He did so, and
Rebecca took a key out of her pocket, knelt down before the trunk, and
sought hither and thither among its contents. First she took from the
bottom of the trunk a packet with five seals, and, as she hastily stuck it
in her bosom, her eye was uplifted to heaven with a glance of glowing
gratitude. Then she took out a white dress and a long white veil,
carefully concealing these things under the great black mantle which
enveloped her figure. Finally, she locked the trunk and handed the key to
Gabriel.

"Place the trunk gently in the wagon, so as not to wake the child," she
said. Gabriel silently obeyed, and then, standing on the footboard of the
wagon, reached down his hand to her, as if he would ask her to follow.

She shook her head quickly. "Come, Gabriel," said she, "come, let us step
across and talk under yon tree. The child sleeps and David Cohen sleeps,
too. Nobody hears us. Come."

With hasty steps they crossed over to the great linden tree which stood at
the side of the road. The birds sang and hopped about amid its dense
foliage, and the hot sunbeams drew forth the most delicious fragrance from
the blossoms with which each branch was laden. But the pair who walked up
and down under the tree heeded neither the singing of the birds nor the
perfume of the flowers. They were alone with one another and the sad,