"Zo? Was is de matter?"
"Poisoned."
"Mein Gott! mein Gott! Das is awful."
"Very—it makes a fellow so weak."
"Mein Gott! Did dey poison you for your money?" And here the Jew put his hands behind him to see if his pack was safe.
"Oh no, it was only the water—arsenic and copperas."
"Zo!"
This explanation apparently relieved him of a very unpleasant train of thought, for he now became quite lively and talkative. As we trudged along, chatting sociably on various matters of common interest, it occurred to me from time to time that I had seen this man's face before. The idea grew upon me. It was not a matter of particular importance, and yet I could not banish it. His voice, too, was familiar. Certainly there was something about him that possessed an uncommon interest.
"Friend," said I, "it occurs to me I've seen you before."
"Zo? I dink de same."