“Profound astonishment reigned in the synagogue as I, the full-grown man of twenty-five, whom all had known as Dimitri the Greek servant, arose in my place and ascended the Tebah in a character belonging usually only to Hebrew youths of thirteen; and in breathless silence they listened while I pronounced the benediction over the Torah and read my portion with correct accent and melody. When I had finished I blessed the Lord with a loud voice; and according to the words of the benediction, ‘Blessed art Thou, O Lord, our God, King of the universe, who hast permitted me to live and attain to this day,’ and all the congregation shouted ‘Amen!’ The rabbi then blessed me with tears in his eyes; and Raphael fell about my neck and embraced me, with radiant smiles, for to him my act meant most of all. The rest of the service was conducted in the usual quiet and solemn manner; but when the last chant had been concluded, the excitement broke forth. The vast congregation crowded around the Allatini family, Raphael and me, congratulating us most warmly on the remarkable and auspicious event which had just taken place. I had almost as great a share of popular approval as Raphael, and my fidelity and loyalty both to the family I served and the religion I had embraced, my devotion to my young master, and my attainments in Hebrew lore were greatly admired and commended. Oh, that was a glorious day in my life; and, however long the Most High may permit me to remain on earth, I shall never forget it. The Allatinis, too, when the first shock of surprise was over, acted toward me with the utmost love and kindness. I was treated in all respects as the equal and comrade of Raphael. I sat next to him at the festive board during the splendid banquet given the same afternoon in celebration of the event. After he had delivered his address, I, too, was asked to speak to the guests, who included the most respected people in the community; and the rabbi, in his remarks, referred to me in the kindest terms, praising greatly my fidelity and piety and the learning I had acquired, and comparing me with Shemayah and Abtalion, the distinguished proselytes who became heads of the Sanhedrin during the period of the second Temple.
“After the Bar-Mitzvah festivities were over, Raphael took up again the interrupted course of studies and I was again his companion. I was very, very happy. I felt that I had entered into the haven of peace and joy in the blessed study of God’s holy law and the willing fulfilment of its precepts, while enjoying also the love of my young master, the kindness of his family, and the respect of all my newly gained Jewish brethren. I asked for nothing better on earth, though I did hope that in course of time I might be able to ask some well-born maiden of Israel to be my life partner and settle down as a worthy Baal Ha-baith. But, alas! while I was basking in the bright sun of happiness, the black clouds were gathering which were destined to cover with inky pall the fair sky of my well-being.
“The romantic incidents of my conversion and my public reception as a Bar-Mitzvah had excited great public interest among the Jewish inhabitants of the island generally and were spoken of everywhere. In this way the facts came also to the knowledge of the Greek Gentiles and aroused their deep anger and resentment. Great as was the enmity which they bore the children of Jacob, they hated with a still intenser hatred the one from their own midst who had cast in his lot with the ancient people. I soon noticed that I was regarded with great ill favor. When I went abroad through the streets of the town on my accustomed walks with Raphael, I noticed that the men and women gazed at me with black, scowling looks, while the children put no restraint on their tongues, but yelled after me, ‘Apostate, renegade, traitor!’ This discovery, while it was certainly not pleasing, did not disconcert either me or my friends. There had not been any uprising against the Jews in many years, and none of us thought that I was of sufficient importance to be honored with a special uprising, exclusively on my account. Soon, however, rumors began to be heard that the lower orders of people, incited by virulent agitators, in particular by a fanatical priest of the neighborhood, were planning an attack on the Allatini house for the purpose of seizing me and visiting upon me condign punishment—that is to say, death—for what they were pleased to call my apostasy. This report did cause us some anxiety; but we all, in particular Dr. Allatini, looked upon it as an idle tale and took no precaution to ward off any possible calamity.
“A few nights later the blow fell. Our house was in silence and darkness, all having retired to rest, when some time after midnight a violent knocking and beating at the massive gates of the high stone wall, which surrounded the garden in which stood the Allatini residence, was heard. We were all aroused by the clamor and hastening to the windows beheld in the road outside the gates a great, raging multitude with hate-filled countenances, and bearing in their hands, besides weapons, flaming torches which cast a lurid light over all the scene. No sooner did they behold the frightened faces at the windows (I was not among them, for, realizing at once that the clamor had reference to me, I kept in the background) than with terrible cries and yells they demanded that I be delivered to them. ‘Give us the apostate, the renegade,’ they yelled. ‘We mean no harm to you that are born Jews, but we want the blood of the traitor; and unless you surrender him to us, we will destroy the house and slay you all.’
“Our people held a hasty consultation. I will not detain you with all the particulars of our debate, but the result reached was that it was possible for me to be saved. Dr. Allatini took a hasty leave of me and then went forth to parley with the mob. I hastily dressed myself and packed together a few necessary articles. A purse of money was pressed into my hands. I embraced and kissed my beloved Raphael and bade all good-by, then entered a subterranean passage-way which led to an adjacent street. When I emerged in the next street, the shouts and noise of the mob had died down and I realized that Dr. Allatini had succeeded in quieting them. I subsequently learned that he had assured them that I was not in the house, and had given them permission to enter it and search for me. I reached the harbor early the next morning in safety and took passage in the first ship leaving which chanced to be bound for Marseilles.
“With a soul filled with mingled feelings of sorrow and gratitude I left my native land, sorry that I must leave my dearly beloved one, the companion of my youth and early manhood, and gratitude to the God of Israel, who had saved me from the hands of my enemies and from the perils of the sea, and brought me in safety to a new home. And I thank Him also that in this strange land He has led me to a brother who has shown himself possessed of true fraternal, Jewish love and kindness. And I doubt not that He who maketh a path in the fierce waters and who protected His servant David from the hostile sword, will care for me, His humble worshipper, in this strange land and grant me His peace and blessing. The words of Abraham are finished.”
When the stranger had finished his tale, Benjamin Dalinski, who had listened in wonderment to the singular narrative, said to him: “Truly, thy tale is strange and interesting; but dost thou not think that thou didst act foolishly? Hadst thou remained in the faith of thy forefathers thou wouldst not have lost the friendship of thy Jewish benefactors, nor have aroused the hatred of thy Gentile neighbors. Thou couldst have remained in peace in thy native land and perhaps have become in later years a great man among thy people; whereas now thou art an exile and a fugitive, and who knows what will be thy lot here in this land?”
Abraham gazed at him a moment as though he did not understand his words and then answered with indignation as one who repudiates a sinful and unworthy suggestion. “I would rather eat bread with salt and drink blank water as a Yehudi than be a prince and a great man among the Gentiles.”
“Ah,” said Dalinski, “thou art indeed a proselyte of righteousness.”