That evening a young man in civilian attire inquired at the office of the Narodski Hotel whether a certain Jewish couple were not at the hotel, and was shown to the room where his parents (it was the General) were awaiting him. The meeting was pathetic, almost tragic, in the intensity of the emotions it aroused. The first sentiment was that of great, overwhelming joy. The reunited parents and child wept and smiled alternately, and embraced each other with a fervor only possible to those whose hunger for love had remained so long unsatisfied. Especially did Malka Feige clasp her long-lost son to her breast in a paroxysm of maternal affection, and very, very reluctantly did she release him from her embrace. But finally the first mighty ebullitions of emotion had subsided somewhat and they began to discuss their eventful career and the difficulties of their present position.
The parents’ story was soon told. Their presence in Sebastopol was quite accidental, or rather, as they devoutly believed, providential. During all these years they had been unable to learn anything of the fate of their boy. They knew neither the place where he had been kept during the first few years after his abduction, nor anything of his subsequent experiences; and all of their efforts to obtain some information had remained entirely fruitless, so that finally they had despaired of learning anything of him any more. A few days previous to the memorable occasion of their reunion, Israel had received a favorable business proposition which required his presence at Sebastopol; and as Malka Feige did not care to remain at home in utter solitude, she had determined to accompany him. They had not gone to the review, for they had no heart for pageantry or splendor, and it was quite by chance that they happened to be standing at the corner of the street when the little company of cavalrymen with the general rode by. Gazing at the company in a casual and apathetic way, Malka Feige’s sharp eyes had at once noticed, despite the disparity of age and brilliant uniform, the resemblance in the features of the leader to those of her own Saul Isaac, and her mother’s heart told her that this was her stolen boy. Then had she, in a sudden and irrepressible outburst of feeling, uttered the cry which attracted the attention of the General and brought about the meeting.
Saul Isaac then told his parents the story of his experience, which, as it is well known to my readers, need not be repeated. After he had concluded, the conversation turned upon their future relations, and they all recognized that it was a most difficult and dangerous one.
“Ah, dear son,” said Malka Feige, “what shall our future be? I cannot live without you, now that my eyes have seen you alive; but how can we come together, since we are but a humble Jewish couple and you a great general, and especially since you have become, alas for my sins! a Christian? It is indeed impossible for us to live together. The Czar would never allow it.”
“Yes,” chimed in Israel, “and think what a disgrace it would be for us to have it known in the Kehillah that my son, the Illuy and Charif, was a Meshummed! I could never endure the shame of it. All your glory would be no compensation.”
It was indeed a knotty and thorny problem. But Saul Isaac had already reflected upon the matter in all its aspects, and with customary promptness of resolution had determined what he would do.
“Dear parents,” said he, “be at rest. Never shall I forsake you more. Now that God, the God of my fathers, has brought us together thus wonderfully, we shall never be separated again. I shall stay with you and be a Jew, a sincere, loyal Jew. I know that I must renounce my high rank, to which the Emperor has just appointed me, and all my hopes for the future, and leave this country; for, as a Jew, not only would every avenue be closed to me, but as an apostate I would be sure of severe punishment, and, perhaps, even of death. But what care I for that! I have never been sincerely a Christian. I only became such because my power of resistance was gone and there seemed no other prospect in life. But now that I see you again, my resolution is formed, and is unalterable. I love you; I love my poor, persecuted people; I love my God. I shall return to you and to Him with all my heart and soul.”
The parents shed tears of joy, not unmingled with grief and apprehension, at this heroic announcement.
“But how about your wife?” asked Malka Feige. “You are married to one who is not of our religion, but who accepted you in good faith and intention. Lawfully you may not abide with her, but honor forbids you to leave her. What shall you do?”
“Of that, too, I have thought,” answered Saul Isaac. “I love my Olga dearly, but my faith and my God are more precious to me than the love of woman. I shall go to Olga, tell her frankly of all the circumstances which surround me and ask her to accept our faith and become a Jewess. If she consents, we shall leave the country together and all will be well. If she refuses, I shall tell her that it were better that we parted, for true, God-pleasing marriage cannot exist between persons of different faiths. But, under all circumstances, I am determined henceforth to be a true Jew, to live and die as such.”