Herr von Negrusz extorts nothing from the Jews, nor does he give great feasts to the Christians. He lives entirely in his office, and for his lovely young wife and two pretty boys. His wife is very beautiful. Her figure is straight and slender, and though her carriage is proud, she is extremely graceful. Her features are finely cut, and her dreamy dark eyes are unfathomably deep. But her most striking beauty is her rich olive complexion. Her appearance conjures up Zuleima and Zuleika, and the enchanted beauties of the East; but it must be observed that the district judge's wife wears a cross upon a chain round her throat, and that she has printed upon her calling-cards, "Christine von Negrusz."
Strange to say, these cards form her sole connection with other people. She has no visitors, and she visits no one. Between her and the world of Barnow there is a limit of acquaintance, past which neither she nor they try to step.
If some public functionary sent to Barnow happens to be a married man, he is carefully instructed by his colleagues to borrow the old carriage and horses of old Herr von Wolanski, and drive with his wife to the large white house. Arrived there, he is to send in cards, and is warned that the customary answer received on such occasions is, that the district judge is not at home, and that gnädige Frau is not well. In the course of a week Herr von Negrusz and his wife drive in the same carriage to return the visit, and the ceremony is acted over again with the parts reversed. All intercourse then ceases between the two families. This custom is invariable.
Another curious circumstance is, that Frau von Negrusz never goes out of the house alone. Once or twice a week she takes a walk with her husband. The inhabitants of Barnow are accustomed to walk in the new park surrounding the castle of Gräfin Jadwiga Bortynska, née Polanska. Unlike other people, the district judge and his wife always take their constitutional in the deserted garden by the river-side, and close to the old castle. The direct road to these pleasure-grounds is through the Jews' quarter; but this unsociable pair avoid the nearest way, and choose rather to go all round the outskirts of the town. One might have supposed their reason to have been that they wished to escape the dust and bad odors of the Ghetto; but this hardly accounts for it, as when once caught in a storm, they made the same long round in the pouring rain.
Herr von Negrusz looks everybody pluckily in the face, and never avoids meeting his friends; why should his wife be so unsociable, and what proscription separates her from the rest of the world?
You have only to ask the gossip and newsmonger of Barnow—the magnificent Frau Emilie, wife of the new registrar. Her husband has lived ten years in Barnow, but he is still called the "new registrar," to distinguish him from his colleague, who has been there twice as long. Frau Emilie will show you a calling-card, and answer as follows: "How can one associate with such a person? Look at her card—why has she not had it printed in the proper way, with her maiden name in the usual place? Because it would not look well to put 'Christine von Negrusz, née Bilkes, divorcée Silberstein.' Her real name is Chane, her father is Nathan Bilkes, and another Nathan—Nathan Silberstein—is her first husband. Negrusz is eccentric. First he wanted to marry the daughter of a millionaire, an Armenian baron, and when this was forbidden, he suddenly comforted himself by falling in love with the rather good-looking Jewess, and he bought her from her husband...."
"Bought?" you will ask with surprise—"for money—for hard cash?"
"Of course—why not?" your informant will reply. "Are you really surprised? To a Jew everything is salable—even a wife. It is said that Negrusz had to pay down a thousand gulden. If you do not believe me, ask every one in Barnow, or, better still, ask Nathan Silberstein how much he got. He is a wine-merchant, and though he is continually traveling about, he is sure to be at home for the great feasts. He will tell you that he gave her up to the district judge willingly. Now, I ask you, can we associate with such a woman?"
Emilie, the magnificent, is right for the most part. Frau Christine was really Chane, and she had been Chane Bilkes, and afterward Chane Silberstein. The wine-merchant had given her up voluntarily to the district judge. She was right also when she said that it was impossible for her—Emilie—to know such a person. She was quite wrong about the money transaction.
The price paid was not a bank-note, but a human heart.