It had seemed to him that in asking him to take a wife to his discomfort his father was asking him too much, and he had put the question aside; but he was now without will to resist any memory that might befall him, and for the first time he allowed his thoughts to dwell on his father’s implied regret that he had never caught his son near a servant girl’s bed.  His unwillingness to impugn his father’s opinions kept him heretofore from pondering on his words, but feeling his life to be now broken and cast away, there seemed to arise some reasons for an examination of his father’s words.  They could not mean anything else than that a young man was following the natural instincts if he lingered about a young girl’s room; and that to be without this instinct was almost a worse misfortune than to be possessed by it to the practical exclusion of other interests.

His father, it is true, may have argued the matter out with himself somewhat in this fashion:  that love of women in a man may be controlled; and looking back into his own life he may have found this view confirmed.  Joseph remembered that his grandmother often spoke to him of Dan’s great love of his wife, and it might be that he had never loved another woman; few men, however, were as fortunate as his father, and Joseph could not help thinking that it were better to put women out of his mind altogether than to become inflamed by the sight of every woman.  He believed that was why he had always kept all thoughts of women out of his mind; but it seemed to him now that a wife would break the monotony that he saw in front of him, and were he to meet a woman such as his father seems to have met he might take her to live with him.  He thought of himself as her husband, though he was by no means sure that married life was a possible makeshift for the life he sought and was obliged to forgo, but as life seemed an obligation from which he could not reasonably escape he thought he would like to share it with some woman who would give him children.  His father desired grandchildren, and since he had partly sacrificed his life for his father’s sake, he might, it seemed to him, sacrifice himself wholly.  But could he?  That did not depend altogether on himself, and with the view to discovering the turn of his sex instinct he called to mind all the women he had seen, asking himself as each rose up before him if he could marry her.  There were some that seemed nearer to his desire than others, and it was with the view to honourable marriage that he called upon his friends, and his father’s friends, and passed his eyes over all their daughters; but the girl whose image had lingered more pleasantly than any other in his memory had married lately, and all the others inspired only a physical aversion which he felt none would succeed in overcoming.  He had seen some Greek women, and been attracted in a way, for they were not too like their sex; but these Jewish women—­the women of his race—­seemed