From Twilight to Dawn*
A ROMANCE OF THE FRANKFORT GHETTO
“Nay, sigh not, father ; it is a good deed.”
“Eh?” exclaimed the old man looking up warily.
“I read thee, father, as a page of the Talmud, yea commentary and all, and, I say its a noble deed for thy package makes thee sigh ; for therein thou sayest modestly that this jewel thou offerest freely to Manessah for the welfare of thy brethren of Rome, and for safe keeping of a silent deed thou makest me bearer. Well, it is a deed worthy of us. Oh, that we could as easily pour forth our blood as we willingly give our wealth for our brethren. Now can I breathe the air of the great road with any man, and tell my Rachel that duty bids me leave her.” He sprang up excitedly, “When go I forward?”
“But, son, who told thee this? For it was not I, nor will I tell an untruth. It’s so. It’s hard to part with a jewel worth a boxful of gold.”
Unheeding the latter remarks of his father, Solomon, his face assuming that mystic air it so frequently wore, replied slowly: “My mother told me.”
“It’s Cabbala, so I live. Thou shalt go,” and the old man again spoke hesitatingly; “six nights hence, the fifth night of Hanucah, Isaacs of Spiers shall see thee on the road. He is a traveler, and his advice will stand thee in good stead. A jewel worth a box of gold crowns,” he mumbled as he left the room, “a box of gold crowns.”
That same evening, Isaac of Spiers told the gossips, in this fashion, in the Gasse inn, that Solomon was about to set out for Rome:
“A fool tarries on a journey and so gaineth adventures. This maxim hath been mine ever since I threw my bags across a mule’s back. Ye may well laugh thinking a young man hath lived to be an old fool, for I say so myself, and a bee never stung himself with his own sting. Look now, the Psalmist says, ‘Blessed is thy going out and thy coming in.” Now, Samuel, my host, surely said that when he saw my face and heard my tongue wag the news from Hamburg and all the northern kehillas (congregations). Yet will a curse greet me on my going more likely than the blessing, for I take Solomon with me so far as our roads join, for he goes to Rome, and Samuel hath a tear in his eye when he thinks of his son’s journey.” His little eyes twinkled humorously. Then he drew himself up seriously, “Yes, a fool am I, fit to be a Shallekssnaar (jester). Needed it not a man of biting tongue and sense to play that, too? It is true since Solomon was beaten on your Roemerberg—mind I go there every day, but hide cap and badge, and give a smile to the wenches—this young man has been in sullen mood, like to fly into