“Because you said you would.”
Logan began to prepare the breakfast—rashers of bacon and eggs.
“You don’t mind eating pork?” he asked Mendel.
“No. I like it, but I never get it at home.”
“Fancy Jews being still as strict as that!” said Oliver. “Just like they were in Shakespeare’s time.”
“Just as they were in the time of Moses and Aaron,” said Mendel. “They don’t alter except that they haven’t got a country to fight for.”
“Thank God!” said Logan, “or there’d be a bloody mess every other week. Fancy a Jewish Empire, with you sent out, like David, to hit the Czar of Russia or Chaliapine in the eye with a stone from a sling. Think of your sister-in-law luring the Kaiser into a tent and knocking a nail through his head. I wish she could, upon my soul I do!”
“I think we should only be led into captivity again,” said Mendel. “Our fighting days are over, and someone told me the other day that many of the most advanced artists in Paris are Jews.”
“If they were all like you,” said Logan, “I shouldn’t mind. But I’m afraid they’re not. The Jews have got all the money and they keep the other people fighting for it, and charge them a hell of a lot for guns and uniforms to do it with. Oh! there are Christians in it too, but they have to be nice to the Jews to be allowed to share the spoils. I don’t wonder the Jews left the Promised Land when they found the world was inhabited by fools who would let them plunder it.”