The Jew druggist tossed his heavy head with an expression that, however ill assured, was meant to say, "Well! and what then?"
"Think you I know not that, fearing the prejudices against his race might injure the gains of his various trades, perhaps also that the name he bore might recal reminiscences better forgotten for ever, he assumed a Christian appellation, passed for an honest Christian man—honest, humph!" added the stranger with a sniggering laugh—"and infringed the severe laws of Hungary, which compel all of his tribe to dwell within one prescribed street in each city, and wear one distinctive dress—laws that, if called into execution, would bring him contumely, imprisonment, ruin—ay ruin, Master Israeli—humph, I forgot—Bandini? Think you I have no eyes to see yon cross ostentatiously displayed to Christian visitors, now turned against the wall, with the contempt of one of your accursed race—a deed in itself a crime to merit mortal punishment?"
The Jew stole a glance at the cross, and was evidently moved.
"Think you I divine not," pursued his visitor, hastily snatching from the table the heavy book closed upon his entrance, and flinging it open upon his knees, "that this jargon of the devil is your Hebrew book of worship, in which Master Bandini seeks for rules of conduct for the further welfare of his soul—if so be he have one—in the persecution and torture of Christian men—a pretty religion, cospetto!—or may be, practises sorcery?" And the stranger laughed ironically at his own suggestion. "Think you I know not all this, Master Bandini?"
"And if the Cavaliere Caracalli knows me, what have I to fear from him?" said the Jew sullenly, with a look of defiance.
"Ha! that would seem a threat!" answered the cavaliere haughtily. "Once more, have a care, man, how you deal with me! What you have to fear I will tell you, Master Bandini, rogue—all that your worst fears can contemplate, should I have reason to believe you a traitor." And, at these words, he sprang up from his chair, and confronted the old man, with an evident desire to intimidate him by his movement.
The Jew druggist did not flinch; but he answered with less of defiance.
"I am no traitor—no traitor to you; and, though you know me, why should I not serve you still? Why should we not be friends?"
"Friends! you and I!" said the cavaliere with scorn. "But no matter! This affair of the lodger looks ill, I tell you."
"Times are bad—times are bad, noble cavaliere," stammered the Jew, in a whining and apologetic tone. "Our contract stipulated not that I should not strive to earn an honest livelihood where I could."