length they insulted him openly. Since his return from England he had
resumed the dress of his race in his country--the long dark gabardine
or kaftan, with a scarf for girdle, the black slippers, and the black
skull-cap. And, going one day by the Grand Mosque, a group of the
beggars; who lay always by the gate, called on him to uncover his feet.

"Jew! Dog!" they cried, "there is no god but God! Curses on your
relations! Off with your slippers!"

He paid no heed to their commands, but made straight onward. Then one
blear-eyed and scab-faced cripple scrambled up and struck off his cap
with a crutch. He picked it up again without a look or a word, and
strode away. But next morning, at early prayers, there was a place empty
at the door of the mosque. Its accustomed occupant lay in the prison at
the Kasbah.

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