“Thou hast done me a serviceable act, Rabbi,” said the Demon—­“take of these what thou pleasest; ay, were it the whole.”

“I cannot, my lord,” said Jochonan.  “I was adjured by thee to come hither in the name of God; and in that name I came, not for fee or for reward.”

“Follow me,” said the prince of the Mazikin; and Jochonan did so, into an inner chamber.

It was of gold, as the other was of silver.  Its golden roof was supported by pillars and pilasters of gold, resting upon a golden floor.  The treasures of the kings of the earth would not purchase one of the four-and-twenty vessels of golden coins, which were disposed in six rows along the room.  No wonder! for they were filled by the constant labours of the Demons of the mine.  The heart of Jochonan was moved by avarice, when he saw them shining in yellow light, like the autumnal sun, as they reflected the beams of the torch.  But God enabled him to persevere.

“These are thine,” said the Demon; “one of the vessels which thou beholdest would make thee richest of the sons of men—­and I give thee them all.”

But Jochonan refused again; and the Prince of the Mazikin opened the door of a third chamber, which was called the Hall of Diamonds.  When the Rabbi entered, he screamed aloud, and put his hands over his eyes; for the lustre of the jewels dazzled him, as if he had looked upon the noon-day sun.  In vases of agate were heaped diamonds beyond enumeration, the smallest of which was larger than a pigeon’s egg.  On alabaster tables lay amethysts, topazes, rubies, beryls, and all other precious stones, wrought by the hands of skilful artists, beyond power of computation.  The room was lighted by a carbuncle, which, from the end of the hall, poured its ever-living light, brighter than the rays of noontide, but cooler than the gentle radiance of the dewy moon.  This was a sore trial on the Rabbi; but he was strengthened from above, and he refused again.

“Thou knowest me then, I perceive, O Jochonan, son of Ben-David,” said the Prince of the Mazikin; “I am a Demon who would tempt thee to destruction.  As thou hast withstood so far, I tempt thee no more.  Thou hast done a service which, though I value it not, is acceptable in the sight of her whose love is dearer to me than the light of life.  Sad has been that love to thee, my Rebecca!  Why should I do that which would make thy cureless grief more grievous?  You have yet another chamber to see,” said he to Jochonan, who had closed his eyes, and was praying fervently to the Lord, beating his breast.

Far different from the other chambers, the one into which the Rabbi was next introduced, was a mean and paltry apartment, without furniture.  On its filthy walls hung innumerable bunches of rusty keys, of all sizes, disposed without order.  Among them, to the astonishment of Jochonan, hung the keys of his own house, those which he had put to hide when he came on this miserable journey, and he gazed upon them intently.