“Then it is useless to ask for your consent?”
“Quite useless.”
“In that case I fear we shall have to do without it. I am exceedingly sorry to cause you pain—but the marriage will take place.”
Israel rose from his chair and poured some whiskey into the glasses, and made a courteous motion with his hand towards the siphon of soda-water.
“We stand on opposite sides of a great gulf. I am a Jew. You are a Gentile. We need not discuss the question. I can’t restrain my daughter from carrying out her wishes. But I can solemnly curse her after the manner of my people, and cut her adrift from me for ever. I shall warn her. The wrath of the Almighty will be on her head. She will also be disinherited.”
“That will ease my mind of a great burden,” said Hugh.
“To show you that it is no animosity towards you personally that influences me,” continued Israel, with great dignity, inconceivable of the man of an hour before, “I will let you see a copy of my will made some time ago when the thought of you as a suitor never crossed my mind.”
He drew a bunch of keys from his pocket and opened the great safe. From a locked compartment he drew forth a document, and, folding it so that only the particular paragraph should be visible, he showed it to Hugh. Nothing could be more explicit. In the event of Minna marrying a Gentile all the estate would pass from her and be devoted to specified Jewish charities.
“I hope Minna will be able to persuade you to a more favourable view of the case,” said Hugh.
“My daughter can do many things, but not that. She despises her people, I know. But she shall marry among them or be cut off from our congregation for ever.”