"She, too, is a Jew," said the other.
"I know," answered Truda. The steadiness of his gaze was an embarrassment by now. She flushed a little under it.
"I am wondering," she said, "if nothing can be done. I think—I believe—that the world does not know of this persecution. Perhaps I could say a word—in some high quarter——"
"Why should you concern yourself?" asked the Jew evenly. "Why should you take this trouble?"
"Why?" Truda looked up at him, doubtful of his meaning.
He nodded. "Why?" he repeated. "It cannot be good for Truda
Schottelius to stand on the side of Jews?"
"What do you mean?" demanded Truda.
He continued to look at her steadily, but made no answer. She rose from her chair and took one step towards him; then paused. A tense moment of silence passed, and Truda Schottelius sighed.
"How did you know?" she asked, in a matter-of-fact tone.
The big young man smiled. "How did I know that you, too, were a Jew— is that what you mean?" Truda nodded. "Ah, Excellency, there is an instinct in this thing, and, besides, who but a Jew is a great artist nowadays? Believe me, there is not one of us from whom you could hide it."