Aaron the Jew: A Novel

by B. L. Farjeon

Aaron's countenance instantly cleared. He had to think, to act, for her as well as for himself. With fond endearments he endeavoured to soothe her; but her agitation was profound, and while these cries of implied opprobrium continued she could not school herself to calmness. Not for herself did she fear; it was against her dear, her honoured husband that this wicked demonstration was made, and she dreaded that he would be subjected to violence. Stories of past oppressions, accounts she had read in the newspapers of Jew-baiting in other countries, flashed into her mind. To her perturbed senses the voices seemed to proceed from men and women; to Aaron's clearer senses they were the voices of children, and he divined the source of the insult. Rachel sobbed upon his breast, and clasped him close to protect him.

"Rachel, my love, my life!" he said, in a tone of tender firmness. "Be calm, I entreat you. There is nothing to fear. Have you lost confidence in your husband? Would you increase my troubles, and make the task before me more difficult than it is? On my word as a man, on my faith as a Jew, I will make friends of these foolish children, in whose outcries there is no deep-seated venom--I declare it, none. They do not know what they are doing. From my heart I pity them, the young rascals, and I will wage a peaceful war with them--yes, my life, a peaceful war--which will confound them and fill them with wonder. I will make them respect me; I will enrich them with a memory which, when they are men and women, will make them think of the past with shame. I will make all my enemies respect me. If you will help me by your silence and patience, I will turn their bitterness into thistledown, which I can blow away with a breath. Take heart, my beloved, dear life of my life! Trust to me, and in the course of a few days you shall see a wonder. There, let me kiss your tears away. That is my own Rachel, whose little finger is more precious to me than all the world beside. Good, good, my own dear wife! Do you think it is a tragedy that is being enacted by those youngsters? No, no; it is a comedy. You shall see, you shall see!"

She was comforted by his words; she drew strength from his strength; she looked at him in wonder, as he began to laugh even while he was caressing her, and her wonder increased when she saw that his eyes fairly shone with humour.

"Have no fear, my heart," he said; "have not the slightest fear. I am going to meet them--not with javelin and spear, but with something still more powerful, and with good temper for my shield."

"Aaron," she whispered, "are you sure there is no danger?"

"If I were not sure," he answered, merrily, "I would remain snug in this room. I am not a man of war; I am a man of peace, and with peaceful weapons will I scatter the enemy. For your dear sake I would not expose myself to peril, for do I not know that if I were hurt your pain would be greater than mine? It is my joy to know it. You will remain quietly here?"

"I will, my dear husband. But you will not go into the street?"

"I shall go no farther than the street door. I shall not need to go farther."

He stopped to fill his pipe, and to light it; and then, with loving kisses and a smile on his lips, he left her.

When he made his appearance at the shop door there was a sudden hush, and a sudden scuttling away of the twenty or thirty children who had congregated to revile him. He remained stationary at the door, smoking his pipe, and gazing benignantly at them.