Silenced by the stress of a great soul, half dazed by the strange, unexpected revelation, Raphael seated himself, took his pen, and wrote:
'We understand that the Rev. Joseph Strelitski has resigned his position in the Kensington Synagogue.'
Not till he had written it did the full force of the paragraph overwhelm his soul.
'But you will not do this?' he said, looking up almost incredulously at the popular minister.
'I will; the position has become impossible. Leon, do you not understand? I am not what I was when I took it. I have lived, and life is change. Stagnation is death. Surely you can understand, for you, too, have changed. Cannot I read between the lines of your leaders?'
'Cannot you read in them?' said Raphael, with a wan smile. 'I have modified some opinions, it is true, and developed others; but I have disguised none.'
'Not consciously, perhaps, but you do not speak all your thought.'
'Perhaps I do not listen to it,' said Raphael, half to himself. 'But you—whatever your change—you have not lost faith in primaries?'
'No; not in what I consider such.'
'Then why give up your platform, your housetop, whence you may do so much good? You are loved, venerated.'