“Go away,” shouted Gregorio; “if you come here again, I will kill you. Twice now have I saved my boy from falling into your hands.”
“I wish only to do you a service. You are a beggar, and I am rich enough, ask Heaven, to look after the child. Why should you abuse me because I offer to release you from your debts if you will let me take the child?”
Gregorio answered brusquely that the Jew should not touch the boy. “I will not have him made a Jew.”
“Then you will pay me.”
“I will not. I cannot.”
“I shall take measures, my friend, to force you to pay me. I have not dealt harshly with you. I came here to help you, and you have insulted me and beaten me.”
“Because you are a dog of a Jew, and you have tried to steal my son.”
A nasty look came into the Jew’s eyes,—a cold, cunning look,—and he was about to reply when the door opened and Xantippe entered. She was well dressed, and wore some ornaments of gold. Amos turned toward her, asking the man:
“This is your wife?”
But Gregorio told Xantippe rapidly the history of his adventures with the boy; and the woman, hearing them, moved quietly to the corner where he slept, and took him in her arms.