And if the Muslimeen hated Israel for what he was doing for their Governor, the Jews hated him yet more because it was being done for a Moor.

“He has sold himself to our enemy,” they said, “against the welfare of his own nation.”

At the synagogue they ignored him, and in taking the votes of their people they counted others and passed him by.  He showed no malice.  Only his strong face twitched at each fresh insult and his head was held higher.  Only this, and one other sign of suffering in that secret place of his withering heart, which God’s eye alone could see.

Thus far he had done no more to Moor and Jew than exact that tenth part of their substance which the faiths of both required that they should pay.  But now his work went further.  A little group of old Jews, all held in honour among their people—­Abraham Ohana, nicknamed Pigman, son of a former rabbi; Judah ben Lolo, an elder of his synagogue; and Reuben Maliki, keeper of the poor-box—­were seized and cast into the Kasbah for gross and base usury.

At this the Jewish quarter was thrown into wild hubbub.  The hand that was on their people was a daring and terrible one.  None doubted whose hand it was—­it was the hand of young Israel the Jew.

When the three old usurers had bought themselves out of the Kasbah, they put their heads together and said, “Let us drive this fellow out of the Mellah, and so shall he be driven out of the town.”  Then the owner of the house which Israel rented for his lodging evicted him by a poor excuse, and all other Jewish owners refused him as tenant.  But the conspiracy failed.  By command of the Governor, or by his influence, Israel was lodged by the Nadir, the administrator of mosque property, in one of the houses belonging to the mosque on the Moorish side of the Mellah walls.

Seeing this, the usurers laid their heads together again and said, “Let us see that no man of our nation serve him, and so shall his life be a burden.”  Then the two Jews who had been his servants deserted him, and when he asked for Moors he was told that the faithful might not obey the unbeliever; and when he would have sent for negroes out of the Soudan he was warned that a Jew might not hold a slave.  But the conspiracy failed again.  Two black female slaves from Soos, named Fatimah and Habeebah, were bought in the name of the Governor and assigned to Israel’s service.

And when it was seen at length that nothing availed to disturb Israel’s material welfare, the three base usurers laid their heads together yet again, that they might prey upon his superstitious fears, and they said, “He is our enemy, but he is a Jew:  let the woman who is named the prophetess put her curse upon him.”  Then she who was so called, one Rebecca Bensabbot, deaf as a stone, weak in her intellect, seventy years of age, and living fifty years on the poor-box which Reuben Maliki kept, crossed Israel in the streets, and cursed him as a son of Beelzebub predicting that, even as he had made the walls of the Kasbah to echo with the groans of God’s elect, so should his own spirit be broken within them and his forehead humbled to the earth.  He stood while he heard her out, and his strong lip trembled at he words; but he only smiled coldly, and passed on in silence.