“Send her to Jerusalem,” suggested the Princess naïvely; and Raie, unable to see the point of the remark, wondered why they laughed.
Lionel left them to finish their tea without him, and strolled through the grounds towards the house. The French windows at the north side stood invitingly open, and ascending the short flight of steps, he entered the room. It happened to be the Premier’s library, and the shelves which lined the four walls were filled with books. In one corner stood a large writing-table, littered with documents of various descriptions; and above it hung a beautifully painted panel mounted in oak, and inscribed with a lengthy quotation from Shakespeare. Not caring to linger near the open bureau, Montella would have passed on; but the old English letters with their illuminated points attracted his attention, and half wondering what would be the substance of the Premier’s motto, he paused a moment to read:
“Salarino—Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his flesh; what’s that good for?
“Shylock—To bait fish withal; if it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hindered me half a million; laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies; and what’s his reason? I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? revenge; if a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? why, revenge. The villainy you teach me, I will execute; and it shall go hard, but I will better the instruction.”
So this was the lesson which Athelstan Moore had set himself to learn! Lionel could scarcely repress an exclamation of surprise as his eye ran over the inscription. As in a flash, the revelation of what Moore’s inward struggle must have meant burst in upon him; and he recognised the courage the great man had shown even in his defeat. Full of thought, the young champion of the Jews turned thoughtfully away, to be met by the Premier himself before he reached the door.
There was a moment of embarrassing silence as the two men confronted one another. The thoughts of both went back to the time of their antagonism, when hot and bitter words had been spoken on either side. But the Prime Minister was not long before he recovered himself, and with a softened light in his usually brilliant eyes, he held out his hand.
“Welcome back to England, Montella,” he said, in a quiet but hearty voice. “We parted as enemies, but I trust we meet as friends?”
Lionel gripped his hand like a true Briton.
“I trust so,” he returned, noticing almost with a pang of compunction how grey and old he looked. “It was never my wish to quarrel with you, Mr. Moore, but I could not help being a Jew.”
“Of course you couldn’t.” He glanced towards the panel with a sigh. “And I know you are proud of it, too. We’ve been taught a hard lesson during your absence, Montella. Anti-Semitism doesn’t answer in England, and it never will; for it’s a savage and retrograde movement, incompatible both with our Christianity and our advanced state of civilisation. Strange that we had to have an Expulsion in order to find that out! The simplest truths are the most difficult to learn, it seems to me.”