'You have no right.'
'I have a right to the children. My blood is in their veins.'
'You have no right. The children are their father's.'
'Yes, their Father's in heaven,' and she raised her hand like an ancient prophetess, while the other supported her bag over her shoulder. 'The children are the children of Israel, and they must carry forward the yoke of the Law.'
'And what do you propose?' he said, with a scornful sniff.
'Give me the children. I will elevate them in the fear of the Lord. You go your own godless way, free of burdens—you and your Christian poppet. You no longer belong to us. Give me the children, and I'll go away.'
He looked at her quizzingly. 'You have been drinking, my good mother-in-law.'
'Ay, the waters of affliction. Give me the children.'
'But they won't go with you. They love their step-mother.'
'Love that painted jade? They, with Jewish blood warm in their veins, with the memory of their mother warm in their hearts? Impossible!'