Then she fell on the man with bitter reproaches."Allah blot out your name, you thief!" she cried."You've killed the creature, and may you starve and die yourself, you dog of a Nazarene!"This was more than Israel could listen to, and he commanded the girl to hold her peace."Silence, you young wanton!" he cried, in a voice of indignation."Who are you, that you dare trample on the man in his trouble?"It turned out that the girl was the man's daughter, and he was a renegade from Ceuta.And when she had gone off, cursing Israel and his father and his grandfather, the poor fellow lifted his eyes to Israel's face, and said, "You are very kind, my father.God bless you! I may not be a good man, sir, and I've not lived a right life, but it's hard when your own children are taught to despise you.Better to lose them in their cradles, before they can speak to you to curse you."Israel's hair seemed to rise from his scalp at that word, and he turned about and hurried away.Oh no, no, no! He was not, of all men, the most sorely tried.Worse to be a slave, torn from the arms he loves! Worse to be a father whose children join with his enemies to curse him!
He had been wrong.What was wealth, that it was so noble a sacrifice to part with it? Money was to give and to take, to buy and to sell, and that was all.But love was for no market, and he who lost it lost everything.And love was his, and would be his always, for he loved Naomi, and she clung to him as the hyssop clings to the wall.
Let him walk humbly before God, for God was great.
Now these sights, though they reduced Israel's pride, increased his cheerfulness, and he was going out at the gate with a humbler yet lighter spirit, when he came upon a saint's house under the shadow of the town walls.It was a small whitewashed enclosure, surmounted by a white flag; and, as Israel passed it, the figure of a man came out to the entrance.He was a poor, miserable creature--ragged, dirty, and with dishevelled hair--and, seeing Israel's eyes upon him, he began to talk in some wild way and in some unknown tongue that was only a fierce jabber of sounds that had no words in them, and of words that had no meaning.The poor soul was mad, and because he was distraught he was counted a holy man among his people, and put to live in this place, which was the tomb of a dead saint--though not more dead to the ways of life was he who lay under the floor than he who lived above it.