‘Why can’t I obey them in bed? Here I am, reading hard at the Cabbala, or Philo—who is stupider still—and what more would you have?’
The old woman, unable to restrain her impatience, literally ran at him, gnashing her teeth, and, before he was aware, dragged him out of bed upon the floor, where he stood meekly wondering what would come next.
‘Many thanks, mother, for having saved me the one daily torture of life—getting out of bed by one’s own exertion.’
‘Raphael Aben-Ezra! are you so besotted with your philosophy and your heathenry, and your laziness, and your contempt for God and man, that you will see your nation given up for a prey, and your wealth plundered by heathen dogs? I tell you, Cyril has sworn that God shall do so to him, and more also, if there be a Jew left in Alexandria by to-morrow about this time.’
‘So much the better for the Jews, then, if they are half as tired of this noisy Pandemonium as I am. But how can I help it? Am I Queen Esther, to go to Ahasuerus there in the prefect’s palace, and get him to hold out the golden sceptre to me?’
‘Fool! if you had read that note last night, you might have gone and saved us, and your name would have been handed down for ever from generation to generation as a second Mordecai.’
‘My dear mother, Ahasuerus would have been either fast asleep, or far too drunk to listen to me. Why did you not go yourself?’
‘Do you suppose that I would not have gone if I could? Do you fancy me a sluggard like yourself? At the risk of my life I have got hither in time, if there be time to save you.’
‘Well: shall I dress? What can be done now?’
‘Nothing! The streets are blockaded by Cyril’s mob—There! do you hear the shouts and screams? They are attacking the farther part of the quarter already.’