“Persecution is an accommodating term,” he said, at last. “Place the smallest restriction on the liberty of a sect, and immediately they proclaim themselves martyrs. We have no desire to ‘persecute’ the Jews; we have used neither the knout nor the rack. For myself, all I desire is to eliminate everything Jewish from our English life; nothing more.”
“To eliminate everything Jewish?” she repeated, unable to conceal a touch of scorn. “Why, it cannot be done; the Jews have left too great an impress on the world. Religion, history, science, the fine arts, commerce, is there anything in which they have never had a place? We went to church this evening: was your enjoyment of the anthem marred because the music was composed by Mendelssohn, a Jew? And has it ever occurred to you that our Liturgy is almost entirely of Jewish origin? The Magnificat—what is it but the joy-song of a Jewish maiden?—the Nunc Dimittis, that of Simeon the Jew? Why, the whole Bible belongs to the Jews—is Jewish literature from Genesis to Revelations. And yet you would eliminate everything Jewish from your thoughts. As well try to wipe out the past and re-create the world!”
She paused as the door opened to admit the Countess, who was tired of her own society, and wondered what the two could be talking about. Mamie considered it selfish of her husband to monopolise the girl’s company on the last night of her stay; but noticing the gravity of his expression, she conquered her desire to tell him so.
“I hope you have thanked Patricia nicely for her kindness to Phyllis,” she said, with complacence, as she settled herself in the opposite arm-chair. “Have you decided what form the memento is to take?”
Her husband looked almost disconcerted. “Not yet,” he returned dryly. “When I led up to the subject we both went off at a tangent; however, the evening is yet young.”
“We want to give you a little souvenir of your visit,” Mamie explained eagerly; “but we could not decide as to what it should be, so we thought we had better ask you. I suggested a crescent brooch to replace the one you gave to the Unemployed. Do you remember that day, Patricia? What a tender-hearted goose you were!”
Patricia’s colour rose.
“You are very good,” she said, addressing them both, and inwardly determining not to accept any reward for her services, however delicately it might be offered. “But I really have more jewellery than I can wear already. I would rather not have a present, if you don’t mind; indeed, I haven’t the faintest idea what to choose. I have all I want.”
The Premier seemed to be turning over something in his mind.
“All you want?” he repeated slowly; “except—your husband.”