Rachel, who was naturally timid, moved closer to her husband, who took the candle from her hand, and held it up in order to see the face of the stranger.
"Step inside," he said.
The stranger followed Aaron and Rachel into the little parlor, and without taking off his hat, looked at Aaron, then at Rachel, and then into every corner of the room; the last object upon which his eyes rested was the device of the three golden balls, and a frown gathered on his features as he gazed. Aaron noted these movements and signs with attention and amusement.
"Do you detect any blemish in them?" he asked.
"I do not understand you," said the stranger.
"In those balls. There was an expression of disapproval on your face as you gazed on them."
"I disapprove of them altogether," said the stranger.
"I am sorry, but we cannot please everybody. I am not responsible for the insignia; you will find the origin in the armorial bearings of the Medici. That is a beautiful hat you have on your head." The stranger stared at him. "Really," continued Aaron blandly, "a beautiful hat; a fine protection against the hot rays of the sun; a protection, also, against the wind and rain. But in this room, as you may observe, we have neither wind nor rain nor sun." The stranger, reddening slightly, removed his hat, and placed it on the table. "My wife," then said Aaron.
The stranger inclined his head, with the air of a man acknowledging an introduction to one of a lower station. The manner of this acknowledgment was not lost upon Aaron.
"My wife," he repeated courteously, "Mrs. Cohen."