"No, I haven't heard anything about him since he went away."
"Then I know more than you do. Old Itzig Türkischgelb, the 'Marschallik'—you know the silly old man—was at Lemberg a short time ago, and when there he chanced to meet Aaron, so he stopped and spoke to him. He hardly knew him at first; for just fancy what our poor little Aaron has become! He has become a gentleman, and dresses and speaks like a German. He left the Latin school three years ago, and ever since then he has lived at Vienna, where he is learning to be a doctor! Who ever would have believed it? And," she added, hesitatingly, "the 'Marschallik' says that he has grown very proud, and will not speak to a Jew. Only think, he calls himself Adolf now, and they say that he is going to become a Christian. I can't believe it, though—can you?"
I would not have believed in the possibility of anything that was disagreeable to the girl for the world.
"No," I answered with decision, "I don't believe it either. However, I shall soon have an opportunity of knowing for certain. I'm going to Vienna in a few weeks, to the university; and when I am there I'll look up Aaron or Adolf, whichever he calls himself."
"Yes, do," she said, quickly. "How glad he will be to see you again! And," she added, her cheeks flushing, "remember me to him if he hasn't forgotten me. But—you understand—only if he hasn't forgotten me...."
"Oh," I exclaimed, boldly and enthusiastically, "who could forget you?"
I was so terrified by my own boldness that I at once touched my hat and withdrew, stammering some words of farewell. But I managed to regain sufficient mastery over myself, before I joined my companions, to be able to receive the storm of curiosity, envy, and admiration with which they greeted me, with dignified calmness.
I did not set off in search of Aaron or Adolf Leiblinger as soon as I arrived in Vienna, although I had fully determined to do so. Who will not at once understand the reason? Imagine a lad of eighteen years of age, shy, poor, ignorant of the world, and brought up in a small country town, suddenly removed from all his accustomed surroundings and transplanted to one of the great capitals of Europe. He would naturally feel lost and dazed in the crowd hurrying past him, and among the endless streets and houses stretched out before him. He would need time to grow used to the change in his life, and to gain courage to face it. It was so with me. And then again, how was I to find him among the four thousand students who attended the university classes? I gave up the idea, and trusted to chance.
It was on a dismal afternoon in December that we met at last. There had been a thick mist all day, which after a time became a fine persistent and very wetting rain. It was so disagreeable that I was driven to take refuge in a large crowded café in the Alster suburb, in hopes of the shower passing off. Every seat was occupied, but at last I succeeded in finding a vacant chair in the billiard-room. The rain lasted so long that I grew tired of watching the drip from the leaves of the plants in the garden, and turned my attention to the game that was going on.