"I know well that the kohenin ought to abandon even their dying wives, if they are not of Jewish origin. Their contact becomes impure. But I also know that the law, formerly so vigorous, and not without a wise motive, is indulgent under exceptional circumstances. A kohen who, in order to accomplish a good deed, touches a corpse is, according to the conclusion of all rabbis, exempt from sin."
"I do not think that can be the opinion of all the rabbis. However, we can easily ascertain."
By a strange coincidence, the door opened and admitted a dignified old man with a long white beard, clad in the ancient costume of a Polish Jew. All saluted him respectfully. He was a rabbi, generally esteemed for his learning and his honourable and upright character. His face denoted the serenity of a soul untroubled by terrestrial cares.
Mann hastened to repeat what he had said to Jacob, and, wishing above all to have the approbation of the rabbi for his doctrine of hatred and vengeance, he added:--
"Ought we to forgive the nobles? Ought we to overlook the evils done us by them? The justice of God is implacable, and the hour approaches when we shall be avenged upon our secular oppressors."
The old man listened attentively, then replied slowly and solemnly:--
"The Rabbi Ichochua ben Levi had for a neighbour a Sadducee, who had insulted him in many ways. Weary of enduring these affronts, he resolved to pray to God for vengeance. As he was preparing to go to the temple to accomplish his design, he was overcome by a profound slumber. On awakening, he said: 'The sweet sleep into which God plunged me so suddenly is a warning from on high; a just man never invokes divine vengeance against his enemies.'"
Then the venerable man arose, bowed, and went out. Mann shrugged his shoulders, and was silent. His guests, most of whom were not very devout, took their hats, considering the question decided by the text of the law. In the Talmud, as in books of a character still more sacred, each interprets as he wishes. The passage proved Jacob in the right, but could have been perhaps contradicted by another passage which would put him in the wrong. Mann, fortunately, was not sufficiently familiar with the literature of Judaism to recall a text adapted to his argument. Jacob, triumphant, rapidly followed the rabbi, and kissed his hand with gratitude.
He returned to the city, where he found that there had been a change in favour of the Jews. Their adversaries were silent, and public opinion approved their admittance on a fraternal footing, although the nobles still opposed it. Twenty-four hours had sufficed not to efface, but to mask, the prejudices of both parties,--prejudices of which they were ashamed, and which they concealed in an obscure corner of the soul and dared no longer show in daylight.
The nobles were not in perfect harmony even with each other. Like the Jews, they held diverse opinions. Those among them who were the most obstinate were those who were not well informed as to the actual situation, who had learned nothing, forgotten nothing, and who had intrenched themselves in an exclusive adherence and devotion to the past. These were called on the streets ultramontanes, on account of their importation of foreign Catholicism,--a Catholicism which was monarchical and legitimist, an enemy of progress. Essentially different was it from Polish Catholicism, which was conciliatory toward republican ideas, but did not take sides with either party, and, with Copernicus, had left its luminous traces in the ascendant march of humanity.