you to even dream of reckoning Hannah as an ordinary divorced woman.  If they did, it’s a third thousand to one against their telling anybody.  There is no need for you to perform the ceremony yourself.  Let her be married by some other minister—­by the Chief Rabbi himself, and to make assurance doubly sure I’ll not mention that I’m a Cohen” The words poured forth like a torrent, overwhelming the Reb for a moment.  Hannah leaped up with a hysterical cry of joy.

“Yes, yes, father.  It will be all right, after all.  Nobody knows.  Oh, thank God! thank God!”

There was a moment of tense silence.  Then the old man’s voice rose slowly and painfully.

“Thank God!” he repeated.  “Do you dare mention the Name even when you propose to profane it?  Do you ask me, your father, Reb Shemuel, to consent to such a profanation of the Name?”

“And why not?” said David angrily.  “Whom else has a daughter the right to ask mercy from, if not her father?”

“God have mercy on me!” groaned the old Reb, covering his face with his hands.

“Come, come!” said David impatiently.  “Be sensible.  It’s nothing unworthy of you at all.  Hannah was never really married, so cannot be really divorced.  We only ask you to obey the spirit of the Torah instead of the letter.”

The old man shook his head, unwavering.  His cheeks were white and wet, but his expression was stern and solemn.

“Just think!” went on David passionately.  “What am I better than another Jew—­than yourself for instance—­that I shouldn’t marry a divorced woman?”

“It is the Law.  You are a Cohen—­a priest.”

“A priest, Ha!  Ha!  Ha!” laughed David bitterly.  “A priest—­in the nineteenth century!  When the Temple has been destroyed these two thousand years.”

“It will be rebuilt, please God,” said Reb Shemuel.  “We must be ready for it.”

“Oh yes, I’ll be ready—­Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  A priest!  Holy unto the Lord—­I a priest!  Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  Do you know what my holiness consists in?  In eating tripha meat, and going to Shool a few times a year!  And I, I am too holy to marry your daughter.  Oh, it is rich!” He ended in uncontrollable mirth, slapping his knee in ghastly enjoyment.

His laughter rang terrible.  Reb Shemuel trembled from head to foot.  Hannah’s cheek was drawn and white.  She seemed overwrought beyond endurance.  There followed a silence only less terrible than David’s laughter.

“A Cohen,” burst forth David again.  “A holy Cohen up to date.  Do you know what the boys say about us priests when we’re blessing you common people?  They say that if you look on us once during that sacred function, you’ll get blind, and if you look on us a second time you’ll die.  A nice reverent joke that, eh!  Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  You’re blind already, Reb Shemuel.  Beware you don’t look at me again or I’ll commence to bless you.  Ha!  Ha!  Ha!”