It was the formal marriage speech he had learnt up for his approaching marriage.  The company roared with laughter, and pleasure and enjoyment of the fun made Leah’s lovely, smiling cheeks flush to a livelier crimson.  Badinage flew about from one end of the table to the other:  burlesque congratulations were showered on the couple, flowing over even unto Mrs. Jacobs, who appeared to enjoy the episode as much as if her daughter were really off her hands.  The little incident added the last touch of high spirits to the company and extorted all their latent humor.  Samuel excelled himself in vivacious repartee, and responded comically to the toast of his health as drunk in coffee.  Suddenly, amid the hubbub of chaff and laughter and the clatter of cutlery, a still small voice made itself heard.  It same from old Hyams, who had been sitting quietly with brow corrugated under his black velvet koppel.

“Mr. Levine,” he said, in low grave tones, “I have been thinking, and I am afraid that what you have done is serious.”

The earnestness of his tones arrested the attention of the company.  The laughter ceased.

“What do you mean?” said Samuel.  He understood the Yiddish which old Hyams almost invariably used, though he did not speak it himself.  Contrariwise, old Hyams understood much more English than he spoke.

“You have married Hannah Jacobs.”

There was a painful silence, dim recollections surging in everybody’s brain.

“Married Hannah Jacobs!” repeated Samuel incredulously.

“Yes,” affirmed old Hyams.  “What you have done constitutes a marriage according to Jewish law.  You have pledged yourself to her in the presence of two witnesses.”

There was another tense silence.  Samuel broke it with a boisterous laugh.

“No, no, old fellow,” he said; “you don’t have me like that!”

The tension was relaxed.  Everybody joined in the laugh with a feeling of indescribable relief.  Facetious old Hyams had gone near scoring one.  Hannah smilingly plucked off the glittering bauble from her finger and slid it on to Leah’s.  Hyams alone remained grave.  “Laugh away!” he said.  “You will soon find I am right.  Such is our law.”

“May be,” said Samuel, constrained to seriousness despite himself.  “But you forget that I am already engaged to Leah.”

“I do not forget it,” replied Hyams, “but it has nothing to do with the case.  You are both single, or rather you were both single, for now you are man and wife.”

Leah, who had been sitting pale and agitated, burst into tears.  Hannah’s face was drawn and white.  Her mother looked the least alarmed of the company.

“Droll person!” cried Malka, addressing Sam angrily in jargon.  “What hast thou done?”

“Don’t let us all go mad,” said Samuel, bewildered.  “How can a piece of fun, a joke, be a valid marriage?”

“The law takes no account of jokes,” said old Hyams solemnly.