"I felt a warm sympathy for my brother; at that moment I perceived for the first time that he was of a more passionate nature than I. The heavy blow, which I had expected for years, came upon him like a thunderbolt out of a blue sky. He fell upon a chair, in vain he pressed his hands to his face, the tears welled out between his fingers.
"'But brother, brother,' I cried, myself struggling to keep down all the recollections and thoughts that awoke within me, couldest thou have expected anything else? Why troublest thou thyself? What can it now signify to thee? be a man, brother, be strong!'
"'God!' sobbed my brother, 'could I have known that!... could I have known that Miriam would be so weak as to forget me! oh! brother, brother, believe me, Miriam loved only me, me and none else, she could love no one, as she loved me! oh, I made a great, an infinitely great, sacrifice to thee, when I gave her up, fruitlessly gave her up to thee!... oh! why wert thou not magnanimous, why didst thou accept this sacrifice?'
"I looked into my brother's face with the deepest grief, I had never seen him so passionate, so excited before, and yet I thought that I knew him as well as myself, for was he not my twin-brother. It seemed to me almost as if at that moment the dark night of madness was shadowing his clear spirit. The fire in his eyes sparkled wildly and weirdly.
"'Thou hast made a fruitless sacrifice of thyself to me?' I repeated painfully agitated: 'did I desire it, did I wish for it?--and I, I? dost think my heart is of stone? dost think that I have suffered less than thou, because I have said nothing? I too have often screamed in the bitter agony of my soul, as I watched in despair through the long melancholy night.--Consider, brother! I, I do not reproach thee.'
"I suffered inexpressibly: the news, which again painfully tore open my heart's wounds, joined to the passionate unjust reproaches of my brother, whom I loved so tenderly, by whom I believed that I was so tenderly loved, agitated my mind with such violence that I fell dangerously ill. For eight weeks I strove with the angel of death. In the confused wild fever dreams of my sickness it sometimes seemed to me as if an angel approached my couch, as if a girl's white hand touched my burning forehead--once I thought, that a lovely woman bent over my bed and that a tear rolled down upon my face.--God--praised be his name--granted my recovery. He refreshed me with the springs of his infinite grace. The sickness had had the most beneficial, the most inexplicable influence upon my life. A new fresh stream of blood seemed to roll through my veins. I was restored not only to bodily, but also to mental health. My love for Miriam, now the wife of another, which I must have violently eradicated, had died out in a miraculous manner. Oh yes, it was a miracle! and I thanked God for that instance of his goodness!--The noble handsome girl who had nursed me with more than a sister's care, who had watched night after night by my bed, full of sympathy and compassion, was thy mother, dear Schöndel.--Leah the daughter of the Rabbi's widow.... Thy mother was lovely and good. As long as Miriam had reigned in my heart, I had not noticed the wonderfully beautiful maiden, but now, that I was once more free, my earnest gratitude was easily converted into an infelt, fervent, faithfully returned love. Half a year after my convalescence Leah became my wife, and I took my seat in the Rabbi's chair at Germersheim.
"During my sickness my brother had shown me the most self-sacrificing love, and had attached himself again to me with the greatest tenderness, as though to make me forget the inauspicious reproach that had pained me so much. I had never borne ill will against him. True it is that he had shaken with rude hand the firm bonds, that held our hearts entwined, that the hasty word which he had uttered, had touched me to the quick,--but, dear children! you do not know what brotherly love is, you do not know, how one loves a brother, and above all a twin-brother!... From our birth, from our mother's lap we had been united to one another by the sweetest holiest bonds.--The same pulsation had stirred our hearts, we had lain on the same mother's breast, we had hitherto fairly and equally shared every sorrow and every joy.--I could not help it, I was constrained to love my brother with undiminished cordiality!
"In the first year of a happy peaceful marriage thy mother presented me with an admirably beautiful girl, with thee, dear Schöndel.... I was happy, but my happiness endured but for a short time; eight days after your birth thy dear never to be forgotten mother died! You may conceive my profound grief! I formed a firm immoveable resolution never to marry again, and following my father's lofty example to dedicate my whole life to the study of God's word, to the religious care of my community, to the education of my only beloved child.--In the conscientious performance of my duties I at length found tranquillity, and when thou, Schöndel, didst gaze at me with thy sweet child-like smile, when thou didst extend to me thy little delicate hands, I felt myself almost happy!
"My brother was my faithful companion. He occupied a small room in my house and studied almost the whole of the day. My heart was filled with the sad remembrance of my deceased wife, so soon snatched from me. I never thought of Miriam except with a sensation of friendly gratitude. Every feeling of love for her.--I have already said so--had quite died out in me. I could have calmly conversed with my brother about her father and sister: but I did not dare to do so, because the profound silence which he preserved, was an unmistakeable sign, that he had not yet conquered his once deep felt love, that it still remained rankling with full strength in his soul. Miriam's name therefore never again crossed our lips. Many advantageous offers of marriage were proposed to my brother, he was elected as Rabbi by many important German communities: but he firmly refused everything, and paid no attention to my well meaning advice.... We often sat all day together, plunged in the study of the Talmud. Once we were engrossed in the solution of a case that had been laid before me for my decision by two Rabbis, who could not come to an agreement with respect to it. We had long remained seated, then in the eagerness of discussion began walking round the room, and at last, as was often the case, happened to stop before the open window. My brother was just on the point of controverting a proposition that I had laid down, when he cast a glance through the window.... He instantly became dumb, his arms fell powerlessly by his side, his lips moved convulsively, but emitted no sound.
"'What ails thee, brother?' I asked in terror.