“You will see. I shall never leave him. My darling, my white snow-bird! I shall never leave the boy.”
“My daughter,” said the Rabbi softly, for he thought the oil might succeed where the vinegar had failed, “dost thou not see that Leo’s advice is the best? The child must tarry with thee till he is well; no man shall prevent that.”
“Amen!” said Countess.
“But that over, is it not far better both for him and thee that he should go to the Goyim? We will take pains, for the reverence of thine oath, to find friends of his parents, who will have good care of him: I promise thee it shall be done, and Leo will assent thereto.”
Leo confirmed the words with—“Even so, Cohen!”
“But I pray thee, my daughter, remember what will be thought of thee, if thou shouldst act as thou art proposing to do. It will certainly be supposed that thou art wavering in the faith of thy fathers, if even it be not imagined that thou hast forsaken it. Only think of the horror of such a thing!”
“I have not forsaken the faith of Abraham.”
“I am sure of that; nevertheless, it is good thou shouldst say it.”
“If the Cohen agree,” said Leo, stroking his white beard, “I am willing to make a compromise. As we have no child, and thou art so fond of children, the child shall abide with thee, on condition that thou take a like oath to bring him up a proselyte of Israel: and then let him be circumcised on the eighth day after his coming here. But if not, some friend of his parents must be found. What say you, Cohen?”
“I am willing so to have it.”