passed, and he was coming back as a weak, broken, shattered, doddering,
infirm old man of eighty. Their hearts fell low before they spoke, but
after a pause one of them--Israel knew him: a grey-bearded man, his name
was Solomon Laredo--stepped up and said, "Israel ben Oliel, our poor
Tetuan is in trouble. It needs you. Alas! we dealt ill with you, but God
has punished us, and we are brothers now. Come back to us, we pray of
you; for we have heard of a great thing that is coming to pass. Listen!"

Something they told him then of Mohammed of Mequinez, follower of
Seedna Aissa (Jesus of Nazareth), but a good man nevertheless, and also
something they said of the Spaniards and of one Marshal O'Donnel,
who was to bombard Marteel. But Israel heard very little. "I think my
hearing must be failing me," he said; and then he laughed lightly, as if
that did not greatly matter. "And to tell you the truth, though I pity
my poor brethren, I can no longer help them. God will raise up a better
minister."

"Never!" cried the Jews in many voices.

"Anyhow," said Israel, "my life among you is ended. I set no store by
place and power. What does the English poet say, 'In the great hand of
God I stand.' Shakespeare--oh, a mighty creature--one who knew where
the soul of a man lay. But I forget, you've not lived in England. Do
you know I am to go there again, and to take my little daughter? You
remember her--Naomi--a charming girl. She can see now, and hear, and
speak also! Yes for God has lifted His hand away from her, and I am
going to be very happy. Well, I must leave you, brothers. The little one
will be waiting. I must not keep her too long, must I? Peace, peace!"

Seeing his profound faith, no one dared to tell him the truth that was