and finding it to be a necklace, she clasped it about her neck

and laughed.
At the sound of her laughter Israel shook like a reed. It brought back

the memory of the day when she danced to her mother's death,
decked in that same necklace and those same ornaments.

More on this head Israel could not think and hold to his purpose,
so he took the jewels from Naomi's neck and returned them to the casket,

and hastened away with it to a man to whom he designed to sell it.
This was no other than Reuben Maliki, keeper of the poor box of the Jews;

for as well as a usurer he was a silversmith, and kept his shop
in the Sok el Foki. Israel was moved to go to this person

by the remembrance of two things, of which either seemed enough
for his preference--first, that he had bought the jewels of Reuben

in the beginning, and next, the Reuben had never since ceased to speak
of them in Tetuan as priceless beyond the gems of Ethiopia and the gold

of Ophir.
But when Israel came to him now with the casket that he might buy,

he eyed both with looks of indifference, though it was more dear
to his covetous and revengeful heart that Israel should humble himself

in his need, and bring these jewels, than almost any other satisfaction
that could come to it.

"And what is this that you bring me?" said Reuben languidly.
"A case of jewels," said Israel, with a downward look.

"Jewels? umph! what jewels?"
"My poor wife's. You know them, Reuben See!"

Israel opened the casket.
"Ah, your wife's. Umph! yes, I suppose I must have seen them somewhere."

"You have seen them here, Reuben."
"Here?--do you say here?"

"Reuben, you sold them to me eighteen years ago."
"Sold them to you? Never. I don't remember it. Surely you must be

mistaken. I can never have dealt in things like these."
Reuben had taken the casket in his hands, and was pursing up his lips

in expressions of contempt.
Israel watched him closely. "Give them back to me," he said;

"I can go elsewhere. I have no time for wrangling."
Reuben's lip straightened instantly. "Wrangling? Who is wrangling,

brother? You are too impatient, Sidi"
"I am in haste," said Israel.

"Ah!"
There was an ominous silence, and then in a cold voice Reuben said,

"The things are well enough in their way. What do you wish me to do
with them?"

"To buy them," said Israel.
"_Buy_ them?"

"Yes."
"But I don't want them."

"Are they worth your money?--you don't want that either."
"Umph!"

A gleam of mockery passed over Reuben's face, and he proceeded
to examine the casket. One by one he trifled with the gems--the rich onyx,

the sapphire, the crystal, the coral, the pearl, the ruby, and the topaz,
and first he pushed them from him, and then he drew them back again.

And seeing them thus cheapened in Reuben's hairy fingers,
the precious jewels which had clasped his Ruth's soft wrist

and her white neck, Israel could scarcely hold back his hand
from snatching them away. But how can he that is poor answer him

that is rich? So Israel put his twitching hands behind him,
remembering Naomi and the poor people of Absalam, and when at length

Reuben tendered him for the casket one half what he had paid for it,
he took the money in silence and went his way.

"Five hundred dollars--I can give no more," Reuben had said.
"Do you say five hundred--five?"

"Five--take it or leave it."
It was market morning, and the market-square as Israel passed through

was a busy and noisy place. The grocers squatted within their narrow
wooden boxes turned on their sides, one half of the lid propped up

as a shelter from the sun, the other half hung down as a counter,
whereon lay raisins and figs, and melons and dates. On the unpaved ground

the bakers crouched in irregular lines. They were women enveloped
in monstrous straw hats, with big round cakes of bread exposed

for sale on rush mats at their feet. Under arcades of dried leaves--made,
like desert graves, of upright poles and dry branches

thrown across--the butchers lay at their ease, flicking the flies
from their discoloured meat. "Buy! buy! buy!" they all shouted together.

A dense throng of the poor passed between them in torn jellabs
and soiled turbans, and haggled and bought. Asses and mules

crushed through amid shouts of "Arrah!" "Arrah!" and "Balak!" "Ba-lak!"
It was a lively scene, with more than enough of bustle and swearing

and vociferation.
There was more than enough of lying and cheating also, both practised

with subtle and half-conscious humour. Inside a booth for the sale
of sugar in loaf and sack a man sat fingering a rosary and mumbling prayers

for penance. "God forgive me," he muttered, "_God forgive me,
God forgive me,_" and at every petition" target="_blank" title="n.重复；背诵；复制品">repetition he passed a bead.

A customer approached, touched a sugar loaf and asked, "How much?"
The merchant continued his prayers and did his business at a breath.

"(_God forgive me_) How much? (_God forgive me_) Four pesetas
(_God forgive me_)," and round went the restless rosary.

"Too much," said the buyer; "I'll give three." The merchant went on
with his prayers, and answered, "(_God forgive me_) Couldn't take it

for as much as you might put in your tooth (_God forgive me_);
gave four myself (_God forgive me_)." "Then I'll leave it,

old sweet-tooth," said the buyer, as he moved away. "Here! take it
for nothing (_God forgive me_)," cried the merchant

after the retreating figure. "(_God forgive me_) I'm giving it away
(_God forgive me_); I'll starve, but no matter (_God forgive me_),

you are my brother (_God forgive me, God forgive me, God forgive me_)."
Israel bought the bread and the meat, the raisins and the figs

which the prisoners needed--enough for the present and for many days
to come. Then he hired six mules with burdas to bear the food to Shawan,

and a man two days to lead them. Also he hired mules for himself and Ali,
for he knew full well that, unless with his own eyes he saw the followers

of Absalam receive what he had bought, no chance was there, in these days
of famine, that it would ever reach them. And, all being ready

for his short journey, he set out in the middle of the day,
when the sun was highest, hoping that the town would then be at rest,

and thinking to escape observation.
His expectation was so far justified that the market-place,

when he came to it again, with his little caravan going before him,
was silent and deserted. But, coming into the walled lane

to the Bab Toot, the gate at which the Shawan road enters,
he encountered a great throng and a strange procession.

It was a procession of penance and petition, asking God to wipe out
the plague of locusts that was destroying the land and eating up the bread

of its children. A venerable Jew, with long white beard,
walked side by side with a Moor of great stature, enshrouded in the folds

of his snow-white haik. These were the chief Rabbi of the Jews
and the Imam of the Muslims, and behind them other Jews and Moors

walked abreast in the burning sun. All were barefooted,
and such as were Berbers were bareheaded also.

"In the name of Allah, the Compassionate and Merciful!" the Imam cried,
and the Muslims echoed him.

"By the God of Jacob!" the Rabbi prayed, and the Jews repeated the words
after him.