Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. 70, No. 434, December, 1851. Various
The German and the Jew met on a neutral ground of broken English.
"I always treat every gentleman fair, sare," said the Jew. "I tell you, captain, I lose by that last bill of yours."
"Der teufel! who gains, then?" said Von Dessel, "for you cut me off thirty per cent."
The Jew shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't make it so, sare; the siege makes it so. When the port is open, you shall have more better exchange."
"Well, money must be had," said the German. "What will you give now for my bill for twenty pounds?"
The Jew consulted a book of figures – then made some calculations on paper – then appeared to consider intently.
"Curse you, speak!" said the choleric captain. "You have made up your mind about how much roguery long ago."
"Captain, sare, I give you feefty dallars," said the Jew.
The captain burst forth with a volley of German execrations.
"Captain," said the Jew presently, "I like to please a gentleman if I can. I give you one box of cigars besides – real Cubas – one hundred and feefty in a box."
The captain at this broke forth again, but checked himself presently on the entrance of the Jew's daughter, who now returned from the Major's. She advanced quietly into the room, made a little bow to the captain, took off and laid aside her shawl, and, taking up some work, sat down and began to sew.
Von Dessel resumed his expostulation in a milder tone. The Jew, however, knew the money was necessary to him, and only yielded so far as to increase his box of cigars to two hundred; and the captain, finding he could get no better terms from him, was forced to agree. While the Jew was drawing out the bills, the German gazed attentively at Esther, with a good deal of admiration expressed in his countenance.
"I can't take the money now," said he, after signing the bills. "I am going on duty. Bring it to me to-morrow morning, at nine o'clock."
"I'm afraid I can't, sare," said Lazaro; "too moch business. Couldn't you send for it, captain?"
"Not possible," said the German; "but you must surely have somebody that might bring it – some trustworthy person you know." And his eye rested on Esther.
"There's my dater, sare," said the Jew – "I shall send her, if that will do."
"Good," said the captain, "do not forget," and quitted the room forthwith.
He was scarcely gone when a pair with whom the reader is already slightly acquainted, Mr and Mrs Bags, presented themselves. The effects of their morning conviviality had in a great measure disappeared.
"Your servant, sir," said Bags. The Jew nodded.
"We've got a few articles to dispose of," pursued Mr Bags, looking round the room cautiously. "They was left us," he added in a low tone, "by a diseased friend."
"Ah!" said the Jew, "never mind where you got 'em. Be quick – show them."
Mrs Bags produced from under her cloak, first a tin teakettle, then a brass saucepan; and Mr Bags, unbuttoning his coat, laid on the table three knives and a silver fork. Esther, passing near the table at the time, glanced accidentally at the fork, and recognised the Flinders crest – a talbot, or old English bloodhound.
"Father," said she hastily, in Spanish, "don't have anything to do with that – it must be stolen." But the Jew turned so sharply on her, telling her to mind her work, that she retreated.
The Jew took up the tea-kettle, and examined the bottom to see that it was sound – did the same with the saucepan – looked at the knives narrowly, and still closer at the fork – then ranged them before him on the table.
"For dis," said he, laying his hand on the tea-kettle, "we will say one pound of rice; for dis (the saucepan) two pounds of corned beef; for de knives, a bottle of rum; and for de fork, seex ounces of the best tea."
"Curse your tea!" said Mr Bags.
"Yes!" said Mrs Bags, who had with difficulty restrained herself during the process of valuation, "we doesn't want no tea. And the things is worth a much more than what you say: the saucepan's as good as new, and the fork's silver – "
"Plated," said the Jew, weighing it across his finger.
"A many years," said Mrs Bags, "have I lived in gentlemen's families, and well do I know plate from silver. I've lived with Mrs Milson of Pidding Hill, where everything was silver, and nothing plated, even to the handles of the doors; and a dear good lady she was to me; many's the gown, she giv me. And I've lived with – "
Here the Jew unceremoniously interrupted the train of her recollections by pushing the things from before him. "Take what I offer, or else take your things away," said he, shortly.
Mr and Mrs Bags grumbled considerably. The tea they positively refused at any price: Mr Bags didn't like it, and Mrs Bags said it disagreed with her. So the Jew agreed to give them instead another bottle of rum, a pound of onions, and two pounds of beef; and with these terms they at length closed, and departed with the results of their barter.
During the altercation, a soldier of another regiment had entered, and stood silently awaiting his turn to be attended to. He was a gaunt man, with want written legibly in the hollows of his face and the dismal eagerness of his eye. He now came forward, and with trembling hands unfolded an old gown, and handed it to the Jew.
"'Tis no good to me," said the latter, giving it back, after holding it against the light; "nothing but holes."
"But my wife has no other," said the man: "'tis her last stitch of clothes, except her petticoat and a blanket. I've brought everything else to you."
The Jew shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands, in token that he could not help it.
"I swear 'tis her last!" reiterated the man, as if he really fancied this fact must give the garment as much value in the Jew's eyes as in his own.
"I tell you I won't have it!" said the Jew, testily.
"Give me only a loaf for it, or but one pound of potatoes," said the soldier: "'tis more than my wife and four children have had among them for two days. Half-rations for one, among six of us, is too hard to live."
"A pound of potatoes," said the Jew, "is worth four reals and a-half – eighteenpence; your wife's gown is worth – nothing!"
"Then take this," said the man, beginning frantically to pull off his uniform coat; "anything is better than starving."
The Jew laughed. "What!" said he, "you think I don't know better than to buy a soldier's necessaries, eh? Ah, ah! no such a fool, I think, my friend. What your captain say? – eh?"
The man struck his hand violently on the table. "Then give me – or lend me," said he, "some food, much or little, and I'll work for you every hour I'm off duty till you're satisfied. I will, Mr Lazaro, so help me God!"
"I got plenty of men to work for me," said Lazaro; "don't want any more. Come again, when you've got something to sell, my friend."
The man rolled up the gown without speaking, then lifted it over his head, and dashed it into the furthest corner of the store. He was hurrying from the place, when, as if unwilling to throw away his last chance, he turned back, gathered it up, and, thrusting it under his arm, quitted the store with lingering steps, as if he even yet hoped to be called back. No such summons reached him, however; but, immediately after he was gone, Esther rose and stole softly down the stairs. She overtook him at the street-door opening from the court before mentioned, and laid her hand on his arm. The man turned and glared on her. "What! – he'll buy it, will he?" said he.
"Hush!" said Esther – "keep it for your poor wife. Look; I have no money, but take these," and she placed in his hand two earrings hastily detached from her ears.
The man stood looking at her for a space, as if stupified, without closing his hand on the trinkets that lay on the palm; then, suddenly rousing himself, he swore, with tears in his eyes, that for this service he would do for her anything on earth she should require from him; but she only begged him to go away at once, and say nothing, lest her father