Shagarach's father had been a rabbin or expounder of the sacred books. Great was the scandal when Rabbi Moses' son abandoned daily attendance at the synagogue and gave himself over to the ways, though not to the society, of the gentiles. His mother, with whom he lived, still kept up the observances of the law, baking the unleavened bread at the paschal season and purchasing the flesh only of the lawfully butchered ox. Her son neither praised nor blamed, but she knew he was no longer of Israel's sects; not even of the mystical Essenes, among whom his father might be counted, and whose study is the unpronounceable name of God. Others of his people who lacked a mother's indulgence knew this, and it was rarely that one of the orthodox children of Israel brought his worldly troubles to Shagarach.
"Your health is strong under Jehovah, I trust," continued Simon Rabofsky.
"Have you come to inquire about my health?" asked Shagarach. The old man's prelude, beginning so fitfully and far away, threatened to prolong itself interminably.
"Nay, a small affair of consultation which it shall be richly worth your while to advise upon," answered the other, craftily.
"State the facts with brevity and clearness."
"Speedily, kinsman Shagarach, speedily." Again he looked cautiously around. "You are aware that out of the savings of my days of hard labor I occasionally permit the use of small sums to my friends."
"You are a money-lender? That I know. One of my clients desires a loan of you. Which is it?"
"Not one of your clients, kinsman Shagarach."
"Who?"
"Mrs. Arnold."