When Kathinka had ceased reading, she dropped the letter and hid her burning head in her hands, while her body rocked with grief and despair.
Her father gazed at her in silence, with a look of intense commiseration on his face.
"What can I do?" she moaned, at length. "What would Joseph have me do? He would rather die a thousand deaths than owe his liberty to my degradation. Father, my duty is clear! Joseph is innocent of any crime and the God of Israel will protect him."
"God bless you, my daughter," replied the Rabbi. "You have spoken well. Will you answer this letter?"
"No, father; I shall treat it with contempt. The writer can draw his own conclusions from my silence."
It was a sad day for both the Rabbi's and Kierson's families. The latter, much as they loved their only son, sincerely approved of Kathinka's decision.
"If he must go to Siberia," they sobbed; "he will go without a sin upon his soul. We are all in the hands of the Almighty."
Old Kierson thenceforth went daily to the police headquarters, endeavoring in vain to obtain information about his son. He found no one that could enlighten him as to his present condition or future fate, and he trudged homeward, feeling daily more sick at heart, more depressed in spirit.
At the end of a week, Kathinka received a second letter from her persecutor. It was more offensive than the first. It stated that Joseph was still a prisoner; that owing to his (Loris') influence the sentence had not yet been carried out. There was still time to save him from ignominious exile. He hinted, moreover, at a movement to drive the Jews out of Kief and promised to avert the catastrophe if Kathinka yielded to his persuasions. There were passion and insult in every line.
The poor girl was almost distracted with grief and mortification, the more so as it became necessary to take the entire Jewish community into the secret.