In one of the many straggling streets, almost hidden behind a few large shops of curious build, stood a small boutique full of ancient relics and jeweled bric-a-brac.
Inside, seated by the counter, writing in a large ledger, was an old man, whose hooked nose and piercing eyes proclaimed him at once to be from the tribe of Israel.
This Jew, Phenee, was not alone. Flitting about the shop, arranging the antique curiosities, was a young and very beautiful girl, with delicate features and lustrous, black eyes.
"Can I help you, grandfather?" the girl asked, suddenly stopping before the desk, and leaning both dimpled arms on the dusty book.
"No, no, Miriam; I have almost finished. Leave me for a few moments' quiet."
Miriam sank gently on a high chair, and drooping her head pensively on her hand, sat for some time in unbroken silence, gazing out through the open door at the motley crowds passing by.
Suddenly a dusky form, clad in the garb of a fisherman, entered, and drawing near Phenee, glanced nervously around.
"I wish to sell that. How much will you give me for it?" laying a jeweled poignard, with a golden chain attached, on the desk.
Phenee took it up and examined it attentively, then looked searchingly at the man.
Satisfied at his scrutiny, the Jew named a very low price, one which his customer had some hesitation in accepting; but at last, seeing Phenee was obdurate, he took the offered money, and glided off like a spectre.