“I am glad, though, that all happened as it did. Had I nursed you only for your own sake, much as I loved you, I might have weakened, my strength might not have held out. For a man can do that for his love which he cannot do for himself. And, perhaps, after all, it was an excellent lesson for me to learn to bear bitter disappointment.”
The flames in Bernstein’s cup were burning low. With every breath of air they flickered and trembled. They would soon die out.
“Look,” said Natzi, reaching into his pocket. “Look at this little piece that I carved during the hours that I sat at your bedside—to keep me awake. I have carried it over my heart ever since.”
Bernstein looked up. His eyes were frightfully bloodshot. His face was ashen. In Natzi’s hand he beheld a tiny carving in wood, fashioned with exquisite skill and grace, of a woman’s head. The flame in Natzi’s cup caught a light gust of air that stirred for a moment, leaped brightly, as if on purpose to illumine the features of the carved image, then flickered and went out. Bernstein had recognised the likeness. Those features were burning in his brain.
“Every night since then I have set this image before me, and I have prayed to God to always keep her as sweet, as pure, and as beautiful as He keeps the flowers in His woods. And every morning I have prayed to Him to fill her life with sunshine and gladness, and to let no sorrow fall upon her. And every day I carried it pressed against my heart and I felt sustained and strengthened. Ah, Bernstein, God is good! He gave her to me! He brought about the revelation that her heart was mine, her sweetness, her beauty—all were mine. Come, comrade, we have gone through many a struggle together. Let us drink a toast—you shall name it!”
Natzi held his cup aloft. With a hoarse cry Bernstein half rose from his seat, swiftly reached forward, and tore the cup from Natzi’s grasp.
“To her!” he cried. “To her! May God preserve her and forgive me!”
He drained the cup, stared wildly at the astonished countenance of Natzi, and, after a moment, during which he swayed slightly from side to side, fell forward upon the table, motionless.
URIM AND THUMMIM
The hall was packed to the point of suffocation, with thousands of gaunt, hollow-eyed strikers, who hung upon the speaker’s impassioned words with breathless interest. He was an eloquent speaker, with a pale, delicate face, and dark eyes that shone like burning coals.