An Obscure Apostle. Eliza Orzeszkowa

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      Hersh stopped speaking. Freida sat motionless looking into her husband's face with intense curiosity.

      "Shall you search for that writing?" she asked softly.

      "I shall search for it," said her husband, "and I shall find it, because I am that great-grandson of whom Michael Senior spoke when dying. I shall find that writing—you must help me to find it."

      The woman stood erect, beaming with joy.

      "Hersh, you are a good man!" she exclaimed. "You are kind to associate me, a woman, with such an important affair and great thoughts."

      "Why should I not do it? Are you a bad housekeeper or a bad mother?

       You do everything well, and your soul is as beautiful as your eyes."

      The white face of the young Hebrew woman became scarlet. She dropped her eyes, but her coral-like lips whispered some words of love and gratitude.

      Hersh rose.

      "Where shall we search for the writing?" said he thoughtfully.

      "Where?" repeated the woman.

      "Freida," said the husband, "Michael the Senior could not have hidden his writing in the earth, for he knew that there the worms would eat it, or that it would turn to dust. Is this writing in the earth?"

      "No," answered the woman, "it is not there."

      "He could not have hidden it in the wails of the house, for he knew that they would rot, and that they would be destroyed, and new ones built. These walls I have built myself, and I carefully searched the old ones, but there was no writing."

      "There was not," repeated Freida sorrowfully.

      "He could not have hidden it in the roof, because he knew it would not be safe there. When I was born there was perhaps the tenth roof built over our house, but it seems to me that the writing could not have been there. Where is it?"

      Both were thoughtful. All at once, after a while, the woman exclaimed:

      "Hersh, I know where the writing is!"

      Her husband raised his head. His wife was pointing to the large library filled with books, which stood in a corner of the room.

      "There?" said Hersh, hesitatingly.

      "There," repeated the woman, with conviction. "Have you not told me that these are Michael Senior's books, and that all the Ezofowichs have preserved them, but no one has read them because Todros would not permit the reading of books."

      Hersh passed his hand over his forehead, and the woman spoke further.

      "Michael the Senior was a wise man, and he saw the future. He knew that for a long time no one would read those books, and that only the one who would read them would be that great-grandson who would find his writings."

      "Freida, Freida," exclaimed Hersh, "you are a wise woman!"

      She modestly dropped her dark eyes.

      "Hersh, I am going to see why the baby is crying. I will give the servants their orders, and have them keep the fire, then I will come here and aid you in your work."

      "Come!" said her husband, and when she had gone to the room from which came the sounds of children's voices, he said to himself:

      "A wise woman is more precious than gold and pearls. Besides, her husband's heart is quiet."

      After a while she returned, locked the door, and asked softly:

      "Where is the key?"

      Hersh found the key of his great-grandfather's library, and they began to take down the large books. They placed them on the floor, and having seated themselves, they began to turn slowly one leaf after the other. Clouds of dust rose from the piles of paper, which had remained untouched for centuries. The dust settled on Freida's snow-white turban in a gray layer, and covered also Hersh's golden hair. But they worked on indefatigably and with such a solemn expression on their faces that one would think that they were uncovering the grave of their great-grandfather in order to take therefrom his grand thoughts.

      Evening was already approaching when Hersh exclaimed as people exclaim when they meet with victory and bliss. Freida said nothing, but she rose slowly and extended her hands above her head in a movement of gratitude.

      Then Hersh prayed fervently near the window, through which could be seen the first stars appearing in the sky. During the whole night there was a light in that window, and seated at the table, his head resting on both hands, was Hersh, reading from large yellowish sheets of paper. At the break of day, when the eastern part of the sky had hardly begun to burn with pinkish light, he went out, dressed himself in a travelling mantle and large beaver cap, got into a carriage, and drove away. He was so deeply plunged in thought that he did not even bid good-bye to his children and servants, who crowded the hall of the house. He only nodded to Freida, who stood on the piazza, with the white turban on her head turning pink in the light of the dawn. Her eyes, which followed her husband, were filled with sadness and pride.

      Where had Hersh gone? Beyond mountains, forests, and rivers, to a remote part of the country where, amidst swampy plains and black forests of Pinseyzna lived an eloquent partisan of the rights to civilisation of the Polish Jews, Butrymowicz. He was a karmaszym—(the higher, or rather richer, class of nobility in Poland were called by that name, which means a certain shade of red, because their national costumes were of that colour)—and a thinker. He saw clearly and far. He was familiar with the necessities of the century.

      When Hersh was introduced into the mansion of the nobleman and admitted to the presence of the great and wise member of parliament, he bowed profoundly, and began to speak thus:

      "I am Hersh Ezofowich, a merchant from Szybow, and the great-grandson of Michael Ezofowich, who was superior over all the Jews, and was called Senior by the command of the king himself. I come here from afar. And why do I come? Because I wished to see the great member of the Diet, and talk with the famous author. The light with which his figure shines is so great that it made me blind. As a weak plant twines around the branch of a great oak, so I desire to twine my thoughts about yours, that they shall over-arch the people like the rainbow, and there shall be no more quarrels and darkness in this world."

      When the great man answered encouragingly to this preface, Hersh continued:

      "Serene lord, you have said that there must be an agreement between two nations, who, living on the same soil, are in continual conflict."

      "Yes. I said so," answered the deputy.

      "Serene lord, you said that the Jew ought to be equal in everything with the Christians, and in that way they would be no longer noxious."

      "I said it."

      "Serene lord, yon have said that you consider the Jews as Polish citizens, and that it is necessary that they should send their children to the secular schools. They should have the right to purchase the land, and that among them certain things, which are neither good nor sensible, should be abolished."

      "I said it," again СКАЧАТЬ