Miriam stood as if paralyzed. "Merciful God!" she murmured; "this hair! the unfortunate creature!"
"Answer!" cried the hostess to the stranger. "This is a Jewish house. One wishes to know who one is receiving."
Miriam went to her. "Be quiet. Don't you know her? It is Judith!"
"Judith!" shrieked the landlady. "Away with her!"
Judith dropped her hands. "I am going; I am going."
The landlady gazed with wide-open eyes at the pale face which, so it seemed, she had seen but yesterday beautiful and comely, and at the bent form, shaken with fever. "God hath shown her his hand," she muttered.
Miriam had rushed up to Judith. Tears coursed down her cheeks in streams as she embraced the slender form with passionate affection, and stroked the thin face with her withered hands. "My poor darling! God has sent you to me."
The hostess looked at her in surprise. Fierce as was her anger towards this renegade, yet her eyelids smarted at the sight. She turned to the door. "Make it short, Aunt Miriam, for I must tell my husband, and he won't stand it." But her thought was, "How sympathetic Miriam is! I would be, too, if I did not fear God."
Miriam's pity thawed even the unspeakable misery of Judith. "I know, Miriam--I know how you have always loved me."
"I do love you. You were so beautiful and good. Ay, so good! When I heard you had been seen in the count's garden a sudden pain pierced my heart, almost as great as the day my husband said to me, 'Wife, it would have been better had you never given birth to a child. Our Lea is courting with Wassilj.' In my anxiety I ran and told you my child's story to warn you. It was hard, but I did it out of love. Alas, alas! it was in vain. How I have lamented for you! I dared not pray, for they say it is a sin to pray for a renegade. You are a Christian, are you not?"