Rafael.
[Slowly, sorrowfully.] And now you say "Jew!" "Jew!" as they say it in the streets, among the mob, when I go beyond the Ghetto. It sounds strange from lips that I thought loved me; it sounds strange from the daughter of your father! Such a man he was! When you and I had our first long talks together, and you told me of the noble deeds your father had done in behalf of the Jews, I couldn't help loving you for his sake; and now you call me Jew! I am a Jew. Never forget that I am a Jew. I have married you; and when it is known I shall have no standing among Jews. The orthodox will avoid me as a pariah, and the mob of Jews will howl at me when I go into the street. And I shall still be a Jew—proud of my race, proud of its fortitude, of the great triumph which shall come to us Jews when we have shaken off the material shell which hides our spirits, and makes us no better and no worse than the Christians! No, no! You are angry—you don't care what you say! You are angry—and you sneer at my father. What do you know against my father's honesty?
Rosa.
He is the father of a man who has married me and dares not proclaim me.
Rafael.
Dares not! Dares not! Ah, you little know me if you think that! Rosa, Rosa! Look here! My dear little girl, you are all wrong. We have agreed on this point. It was yourself who said that we must not tell of our marriage yet. [Rosa sinks into a chair.] You said that I must give my time to my music, until I had made a name—until we could go forth on our own footing—not cast out of that door—without a cent between us, to be reviled and hustled by the mob. And I thought of my father—of his old age—of his pain. If he is wrong—if he is what he should not be, he's still my father——
Rosa.
He called me a demon just now! He opened the door and was about to bid me go from here. He said my father came out of hell. He called me a vampire—he called me a snake——
Rafael.
Oh—! Oh—! Rosa, poor little Rosa!