Nina Balatka

  CHAPTER X

  Some days passed on after the visit to the jeweller's shop--perhaps tenor twelve--before Nina heard from or saw her lover again; and duringthat time she had no tidings from her relatives in the Windberg-gasse.Life went on very quietly in the old house, and not the less quietlybecause the proceeds of the necklace saved Nina from any furtherimmediate necessity of searching for money. The cold weather had come,or rather weather that was cold in the morning and cold in the evening,and old Balatka kept his bed altogether. His state was such that no onecould say why he should not get up and dress himself, and he himselfcontinued to speak of some future time when he would do so; but therehe was, lying in his bed, and Nina told herself that in all probabilityshe would never see him about the house again. For herself, she wasbecoming painfully anxious that some day should be fixed for hermarriage. She knew that she was, herself, ignorant in such matters;and she knew also that there was no woman near her from whom she couldseek counsel. Were she to go to some matron of the neighbourhood, herneighbour would only rebuke her, because she loved a Jew. She hadboldly told her relatives of her love, and by doing so had shut herselfout from all assistance from them. From even her father she could getno sympathy; though with him her engagement had become so far a thingsanctioned, that he had ceased to speak of it in words of reproach.But when was it to be? She had more than once made up her mind thatshe would ask her lover, but her courage had never as yet mounted highenough in his presence to allow her to do so. When he was with her,their conversation always took such a turn that before she left him shewas happy enough if she could only draw from him an assurance that hewas not forgetting to love her. Of any final time for her marriage henever said a word. In the mean time she and her father might starve!They could not live on the price of a necklace for ever. She had notmade up her mind--she never could make up her mind--as to what might bebest for her father when she should be married; but she had made up hermind that when that happy time should come, she would simply obey herhusband. He would tell her what would be best for her father. But inthe mean time there was no word of her marriage; and now she had beenten days in the Kleinseite without once having had so much as a messagefrom her lover. How was it possible that she should continue to live insuch a condition as this?

  She was sitting one morning very forlorn in the big parlour, lookingout upon the birds who were pecking among the dust in the courtyardbelow, when her eye just caught the drapery of the dress of some womanwho had entered the arched gateway. Nina, from her place by the window,could see out through the arch, and no one therefore could come throughtheir gate while she was at her seat without passing under her eye; buton this occasion the birds had distracted her attention, and she hadnot caught a sight of the woman's face or figure. Could it be her auntcome to torture her again--her and her father? She knew that Soucheywas down-stairs, hanging somewhere in idleness about the door, andtherefore she did not leave her place. If it were indeed her aunt, heraunt might come up there to seek her. Or it might possibly be LottaLuxa, who, next to her aunt, was of all women the most disagreeable toNina. Lotta, indeed, was not so hard to bear as aunt Sophie, becauseLotta could be answered sharply, and could be told to go, if mattersproceeded to extremities. In such a case Lotta no doubt would notgo; but still the power of desiring her to do so was much. Then Ninaremembered that Lotta never wore her petticoats so full as was themorsel of drapery which she had seen. And as she thought of thisthere came a low knock at the door. Nina, without rising, desired thestranger to come in. Then the door was gently opened, and Rebecca Loththe Jewess stood before her. Nina had seen Rebecca, but had neverspoken to her. Each girl had heard much of the other from their youngerfriend Ruth Jacobi. Ruth was very intimate with them both, and Nina hadbeen willing enough to be told of Rebecca, as had Rebecca also to betold of Nina. "Grandfather wants Anton to marry Rebecca," Ruth had saidmore than once; and thus Nina knew well that Rebecca was her rival. "Ithink he loves her better than his own eyes," Ruth had said to Rebecca,speaking of her uncle and Nina. But Rebecca had heard from a thousandsources of information that he who was to have been her lover hadforgotten his own people and his own religion, and had given himselfto a Christian girl. Each, therefore, now knew that she looked upon anenemy and a rival; but each was anxious to be very courteous to herenemy.

  Nina rose from her chair directly she saw her visitor, and came forwardto meet her. "I suppose you hardly know who I am, Fraeulein?" saidRebecca.

  "Oh, yes," said Nina, with her pleasantest smile; "you are RebeccaLoth."

  "Yes, I am Rebecca Loth, the Jewess."

  "I like the Jews," said Nina.

  Rebecca was not dressed now as she had been dressed on that galaoccasion when we saw her in the Jews' quarter. Then she had been assmart as white muslin and bright ribbons and velvet could make her. Nowshe was clad almost entirely in black, and over her shoulders she worea dark shawl, drawn closely round her neck. But she had on her head,now as then, that peculiar Hungarian hat which looks almost like acoronet in front, and gives an aspect to the girl who wears it halfdefiant and half attractive; and there were there, of course, the long,glossy, black curls, and the dark-blue eyes, and the turn of the face,which was so completely Jewish in its hard, bold, almost repellantbeauty. Nina had said that she liked the Jews, but when the words werespoken she remembered that they might be open to misconstruction, andshe blushed. The same idea occurred to Rebecca, but she scorned to takeadvantage of even a successful rival on such a point as that. She wouldnot twit Nina by any hint that this assumed liking for the Jews wassimply a special predilection for one Jew in particular. "We are notungrateful to you for coming among us and knowing us," said Rebecca.Then there was a slight pause, for Nina hardly knew what to say toher visitor. But Rebecca continued to speak. "We hear that in othercountries the prejudice against us is dying away, and that Christiansstay with Jews in their houses, and Jews with Christians, eating withthem, and drinking with them. I fear it will never be so in Prague."

  "And why not in Prague? I hope it may. Why should we not do in Pragueas they do elsewhere?"

  "Ah, the feeling is so firmly settled here. We have our own quarter,and live altogether apart. A Christian here will hardly walk with aJew, unless it be from counter to counter, or from bank to bank. As fortheir living together--or even eating in the same room--do you ever seeit?"

  Nina of course understood the meaning of this. That which the girl saidto her was intended to prove to her how impossible it was that sheshould marry a Jew, and live in Prague with a Jew as his wife; but she,who stood her ground before aunt Sophie, who had never flinched for amoment before all the threats which could be showered upon her fromthe Christian side, was not going to quail before the opposition of aJewess, and that Jewess a rival!

  "I do not know why we should not live to see it," said Nina.

  "It must take long first--very long," said Rebecca. "Even now,Fraeulein, I fear you will think that I am very intrusive in coming toyou. I know that a Jewess has no right to push her acquaintance upon aChristian girl." The Jewess spoke very humbly of herself and of herpeople; but in every word she uttered there was a slight touch of ironywhich was not lost upon Nina. Nina could not but bethink herself thatshe was poor--so poor that everything around her, on her, and abouther, told of poverty; while Rebecca was very rich, and showed herwealth even in the sombre garments which she had chosen for her morningvisit. No idea of Nina's poverty had crossed Rebecca's mind, but Ninaherself could not but remember it when she felt the sarcasm implied inher visitor's self-humiliation.

  "I am glad that you have come to me--very glad indeed, if you have comein friendship." Then she blushed as she continued, "To me, situated asI am, the friendship of a Jewish maiden would be a treasure indeed."

  "You intend to speak of--"

  "I speak of my engagement with Anton Trendellsohn. I do so with youbecause I know that you have heard of it. You tell me that Jews andChristians cannot come together in Prague, but I mean to marry a Jew. AJew is my lover.
If you will say that you will be my friend, I willlove you indeed. Ruth Jacobi is my friend; but then Ruth is so young."

  "Yes, Ruth is very young. She is a child. She knows nothing."

  "A child's friendship is better than none."

  "Ruth is very young. She cannot understand. I too love Ruth Jacobi. Ihave known her since she was born. I knew and loved her mother. You donot remember Ruth Trendellsohn. No; your acquaintance with them is onlyof the other day."

  "Ruth's mother has been dead seven years," said Nina.

  "And what are seven years? I have known them for four-and-twenty."

  "Nay; that cannot be."

  "But I have. That is my age, and I was born, so to say, in their arms.Ruth Trendellsohn was ten years older than I--only ten."

  "And Anton?"

  "Anton was a year older than his sister; but you know Anton's age. Hashe never told you his age?"

  "I never asked him; but I know it. There are things one knows as amatter of course. I remember his birthday always."

  "It has been a short always."

  "No, not so short. Two years is not a short time to know a friend."

  "But he has not been betrothed to you for two years?"

  "No; not betrothed to me."

  "Nor has he loved you so long; nor you him?"

  "For him, I can only speak of the time when he first told me so."

  "And that was but the other day--but the other day, as I count thetime." To this Nina made no answer. She could not claim to have knownher lover from so early a date as Rebecca Loth had done, who had been,as she said, born in the arms of his family. But what of that? Mendo not always love best those women whom they have known the longest.Anton Trendellsohn had known her long enough to find that he loved herbest. Why then should this Jewish girl come to her and throw in herteeth the shortness of her intimacy with the man who was to be herhusband? If she, Nina, had also been a Jewess, Rebecca Loth would notthen have spoken in such a way. As she thought of this she turned herface away from the stranger, and looked out among the sparrows who werestill pecking among the dust in the court. She had told Rebecca at thebeginning of their interview that she would be delighted to find afriend in a Jewess, but now she felt sorry that the girl had come toher. For Anton's sake she would bear with much from one whom he hadknown so long. But for that thought she would have answered her visitorwith short courtesy. As it was, she sat silent and looked out upon thebirds.

  "I have come to you now," said Rebecca Loth, "to say a few words to youabout Anton Trendellsohn. I hope you will not refuse to listen."

  "That will depend on what you say."

  "Do you think it will be for his good to marry a Christian?"

  "I shall leave him to judge of that," replied Nina, sharply.

  "It cannot be that you do not think of it. I am sure you would notwillingly do an injury to the man you love."

  "I would die for him, if that would serve him."

  "You can serve him without dying. If he takes you for his wife, all hispeople will turn against him. His own father will become his enemy."

  "How can that be? His father knows of it, and yet he is not my enemy."

  "It is as I tell you. His father will disinherit him. Every Jew inPrague will turn his back upon him. He knows it now. Anton knows ithimself, but he cannot be the first to say the word that shall put anend to your engagement."

  "Jews have married Christians in Prague before now," said Nina,pleading her own cause with all the strength she had.

  "But not such a one as Anton Trendellsohn. An unconsidered man may dothat which is not permitted to those who are more in note."

  "There is no law against it now."

  "That is true. There is no law. But there are habits stronger than law.In your own case, do you not know that all the friends you have in theworld will turn their backs upon you? And so it would be with him. Youtwo would be alone--neither as Jews nor as Christians--with none to aidyou, with no friend to love you."

  "For myself I care nothing," said Nina. "They may say, if they like,that I am no Christian."

  "But how will it be with him? Can you ever be happy if you have beenthe cause of ruin to your husband?"

  Nina was again silent for a while, sitting with her face turnedaltogether away from the Jewess. Then she rose suddenly from herchair, and, facing round almost fiercely upon the other girl, askeda question, which came from the fulness of her heart, "And you--youyourself, what is it that you intend to do? Do you wish to marry him?"

  "I do," said Rebecca, bearing Nina's gaze without dropping her own eyesfor a moment. "I do. I do wish to be the wife of Anton Trendellsohn."

  "Then you shall never have your wish--never. He loves me, and me only.Ask him, and he will tell you so."

  "I have asked him, and he has told me so." There was something soserious, so sad, and so determined in the manner of the young Jewess,that it almost cowed Nina--almost drove her to yield before hervisitor. "If he has told you so," she said--then she stopped, notwishing to triumph over her rival.

  "He has told me so; but I knew it without his telling. We all know it.I have not come here to deceive you, or to create false suspicions. Hedoes love you. He cares nothing for me, and he does love you. But is hetherefore to be ruined? Which had he better lose? All that he has inthe world, or the girl that has taken his fancy?"

  "I would sooner lose the world twice over than lose him."

  "Yes; but you are only a woman. Think of his position. There is not aJew in all Prague respected among us as he is respected. He knows more,can do more, has more of wit and cleverness, than any of us. We look tohim to win for the Jews in Prague something of the freedom which Jewshave elsewhere--in Paris and in London. If he takes a Christian for hiswife, all this will be destroyed."

  "But all will be well if he were to marry you!"

  Now it was Rebecca's turn to pause; but it was not for long. "I lovehim dearly," she said; "with a love as warm as yours."

  "And therefore I am to be untrue to him," said Nina, again seatingherself.

  "And were I to become his wife," continued Rebecca, not regarding theinterruption, "it would be well with him in a worldly point of view.All our people would be glad, because there has been friendship betweenthe families from of old. His father would be pleased, and he wouldbecome rich; and I also am not without some wealth of my own."

  "While I am poor," said Nina; "so poor that--look here, I can only mendmy rags. There, look at my shoes. I have not another pair to my feet.But if he likes me, poor and ragged, better than he likes you, rich--"She got so far, raising her voice as she spoke; but she could get nofarther, for her sobs stopped her voice.

  But while she was struggling to speak, the other girl rose and knelt atNina's feet, putting her long tapering fingers upon Nina's thread-barearms, so that her forehead was almost close to Nina's lips. "He does,"said Rebecca. "It is true--quite true. He loves you, poor as you are,ten times--a hundred times--better than he loves me, who am not poor.You have won it altogether by yourself, with nothing of outside art toback you. You have your triumph. Will not that be enough for a life'scontentment?"

  "No--no, no," said Nina. "No, it will not be enough." But her voicenow was not altogether sorrowful. There was in it something of a wildjoy which had come to her heart from the generous admission which theJewess made. She did triumph as she remembered that she had conqueredwith no other weapons than those which nature had given her.

  "It is more of contentment than I shall ever have," said Rebecca."Listen to me. If you will say to me that you will release him fromhis promise, I will swear to you by the God whom we both worship, thatI will never become his wife--that he shall never touch me or speak tome in love." She had risen before she made this proposal, and now stoodbefore Nina with one hand raised, with her blue eyes fixed upon Nina'sface, and a solemnity in her manner which for a while startled Ninainto silence. "You will believe my word, I am sure," said Rebecca.

  "Yes, I would believe you," said Nina.

&
nbsp; "Shall it be a bargain between us? Say so, and whatever is mine shallbe mine and yours too. Though a Jew may not make a Christian his wife,a Jewish girl may love a Christian maiden; and then, Nina, we shallboth know that we have done our very best for him whom we both lovebetter than all the world beside."

  Nina was again silent, considering the proposition that had been madeto her. There was one thing that she did not see; one point of viewin which the matter had not been presented to her. The cause for hersacrifice had been made plain to her, but why was the sacrifice of theother also to become necessary? By not yielding she might be able tokeep her lover to herself; but if she were to be induced to abandon him--for his sake, so that he might not be ruined by his love for her--why, in that case, should he not take the other girl for his wife? Insuch a case Nina told herself that there would be no world left forher. There would be nothing left for her beyond the accomplishment ofLotta Luxa's prophecy. But yet, though she thought of this, though inher misery she half resolved that she would give up Anton, and notexact from Rebecca the oath which the Jewess had tendered, still, inspite of that feeling, the dread of a rival's success helped to makeher feel that she could never bring herself to yield.

  "Shall it be as I say?" said Rebecca; "and shall we, dear, be friendswhile we live?"

  "No," said Nina, suddenly.

  "You cannot bring yourself to do so much for the man you love?"

  "No, I cannot. Could you throw yourself from the bridge into theMoldau, and drown yourself?"

  "Yes," said Rebecca, "I could. If it would serve him, I think that Icould do so."

  "What! in the dark, when it is so cold? The people would see you in thedaytime."

  "But I would live, that I might hear of his doings, and see hissuccess."

  "Ah! I could not live without feeling that he loved me."

  "But what will you think of his love when it has ruined him? Will it bepleasant then? Were I to do that, then--then I should bethink myself ofthe cold river and the dark night, and the eyes of the passers-by whomI should be afraid to meet in the daytime. I ask you to be as I am. Whois there that pities me? Think again, Nina. I know you would wish thathe should be prosperous."

  Nina did think again, and thought long. And she wept, and the Jewesscomforted her, and many words were said between them beyond those whichhave been here set down; but, in the end, Nina could not bring herselfto say that she would give him up. For his sake had she not given upher uncle and her aunt, and St John and St Nicholas--and the veryVirgin herself, whose picture she had now removed from the wallbeside her bed to a dark drawer? How could she give up that which waseverything she had in the world--the very life of her bosom? "I willask him--him himself," she said at last, hoarsely. "I will ask him, anddo as he bids me. I cannot do anything unless it is as he bids me."

  "In this matter you must act on your own judgment, Nina."

  "No, I will not. I have no judgment. He must judge for me ineverything. If he says it is better that we should part, then--then--then I will let him go."

  After this Rebecca left the room and the house. Before she went, shekissed the Christian girl; but Nina did not remember that she had beenkissed. Her mind was so full, not of thought, but of the suggestionthat had been made to her, that it could now take no impression fromanything else. She had been recommended to do a thing as her duty--asa paramount duty towards him who was everything to her--the doing ofwhich it would be impossible that she should survive. So she toldherself when she was once more alone, and had again seated herself inthe chair by the window. She did not for a moment accuse Rebecca ofdealing unfairly with her. It never occurred to her as possible thatthe Jewess had come to her with false views of her own fabrication.Had she so believed, her suspicions would have done great injustice toher rival; but no such idea presented itself to Nina's mind. All thatRebecca had said to her had come to her as though it were gospel. Shedid believe that Trendellsohn, as a Jew, would injure himself greatlyby marrying a Christian. She did believe that the Jews of Prague wouldtreat him somewhat as the Christians would treat herself. For herselfsuch treatment would be nothing, if she were but once married; but shecould understand that to him it would be ruinous. And Nina believedalso that Rebecca had been entirely disinterested in her mission--thatshe came thither, not to gain a lover for herself, but to save frominjury the man she loved, without reference to her own passion. Ninaknew that Rebecca was strong and good, and acknowledged also that sheherself was weak and selfish. She thought that she ought to have beenpersuaded to make the sacrifice, and once or twice she almost resolvedthat she would follow Rebecca to the Jews' quarter and tell her that itshould be made. But she could not do it. Were she to do so, what wouldbe left to her? With him she could bear anything, everything. To starvewould hardly be bitter to her, so that his arm could be round herwaist, and that her head could be on his shoulder. And, moreover, wasshe not his to do with as he pleased? After all her promises to him,how could she take upon herself to dispose of herself otherwise than ashe might direct?

  But then some thought of the missing document came back upon her, andshe remembered in her grief that he suspected her--that even now hehad some frightful doubt as to her truth to him--her faith, which was,alas, alas! more firm and bright towards him than towards that heavenlyFriend whose aid would certainly suffice to bring her through all hertroubles, if only she could bring herself to trust as she asked it. Butshe could trust only in him, and he doubted her! Would it not be betterto do as Rebecca said, and make the most of such contentment as mightcome to her from her triumph over herself? That would be better--tentimes better than to be abandoned by him--to be deserted by her Jewlover, because the Jew would not trust her, a Christian! On either sidethere could be nothing for her but death; but there is a choice even ofdeaths. If she did the thing herself, she thought that there might besomething sweet even in the sadness of her last hour--something of theflavour of sacrifice. But should it be done by him, in that way therelay nothing but the madness of desolation! It was her last resolve, asshe still sat at the window counting the sparrows in the yard, that shewould tell him everything, and leave it to him to decide. If he wouldsay that it was better for them to part, then he might go; and RebeccaLoth might become his wife, if he so wished it.