CHAPTER XI.
WHO WAS RACHEL?
On the morrow of the fire, Lazarus ascended to the roof and wailed over the spoilt carpets. Joanna consoled him as best she could; she pointed out to him the masses of charcoal that had fallen on thorn, and which, flaming or glowing, would infallibly have split the slates had they fallen on them. ‘Then, even if the timbers did not burn, you would have had to call in the masons to mend the roof, and tradesmen, as you well know, are shameless. They would put their nails through the lead gutters to make work for the plumbers, and break additional slates to run up their own bills, and smash windows to force you to call in the glazier, and let the water in on the rafters to rot them, and necessitate the coming of the carpenter.’
‘That is true, very true, Joanna; tradesmen are scoundrels. Nevertheless, I must lament over my loss; it is terrible, it goes to my soul, it corrodes it like canker. The Persian was a real beauty, and the tapestry Brussels was a joy to contemplate. Such colours, such posies of flowers, and no defect anywhere, except an oil-stain in one spot where a lamp had been spilt, and that might have been cleaned for a few shillings. We must have the carpets down as soon as they are dry, and go over them carefully. With a darning needle and some coloured wools, and little patches put in from old carpets, I dare say you may disguise the worst blemishes. Then, my dear, when, you unroll them before purchasers take care to expose the uninjured end. There is a great deal, Joanna, in the rolling of fabrics. Always look well which end is most damaged, and begin rolling with that; then, when you show your goods you show to advantage.’
When they redescended to the storerooms, Mr. Lazarus said, ‘Dear me! a window broken! That was done last night by Mr. Charles Cheek. He meant well, no doubt, but he has done us a damage that will cost many shillings to repair. Not only are the panes broken, but the woodwork is cut away. He is a gentleman, and when he returns, as he said he would, you had better point out the damage, and make out a case to him that I hold you responsible, and that you will have to repair it from your own pocket. If you manage matters well you may get twice the value of the repairs from him, and I think I can patch up the window myself. I am skilful with my knife, and I have diamonds by the dozen wherewith to cut glass. Putty is easily made with white lead and boiled oil. I don’t want any tradesmen in my repository. Light-fingered gents they.’ He looked round his storerooms and rubbed his hands. ‘What a mighty piece of good luck it was that the tow and tallow shop burnt instead of this emporium of beauty and utility! I am sure, Joanna,’ he added, with unction in his tones, ‘we ought to be truly thankful for mercies; and I hope, my child, you will take this to heart, and be thankful that the old housekeeper over the way was burnt instead of me and you.’
‘She escaped,’ said the girl. ‘She was saved by the fire-escape.’
‘That modifies the case,’ observed the Jew. ‘Still, though things did not go as far as they might have gone, we sha’n’t do wrong to be thankful. At least, you can.’ The Jew looked with complacence at his collections of glass, china, furniture, and clothing, and sighed. ‘What a quantity of beautiful things we have here!’ he exclaimed. ‘I could sit by the hour looking at them, watching the play of light over the cupboards and washhandstands, and in and out among the old clothes. It is lovely. Don’t talk to me about landscape! I’ve seen folks sit on the Hoe and look out over Plymouth Sound, and the Mount Edgcumbe woods, and Maker Point, and say it was all a lovely, ever-varying scene. I can make nothing of it; but I do see a feast of beauty in these storerooms. This is the sort of landscape to gratify the healthy eye. Dear! dear! dear! how could Rachel ever make up her mind to leave this?’
‘Rachel!’ exclaimed the girl. ‘Who was she?’
Lazarus shook his head. ‘This is a vale of tears,’ he said, ‘full of moths. There is one yonder, Joanna; kill it.’
‘Who was Rachel?’ asked Joanna.
‘I wish you would go sharp after that moth,’ said the Jew. ‘Dear alive! the mischief these moths do is awful.’
‘Who was Rachel?’ asked Joanna again. ‘I will catch no moths till you have satisfied me.’
‘I will tell you by-and-by.’ The Jew sighed. ‘Ah! Joanna, I am not the ungrateful old master you may have supposed me. You have done me many a service, but none greater than that of last night. I know I am indebted to you, less the value of the carpets spoilt by the fire. Deduct them from the total and still something remains, not much, but a balance—a small balance. It is pleasant to have a balance in one’s favour, is it not, Joanna? I will show you my gratitude. We shall have a regular royal debauch for supper. I have some tinned tomatoes. Tomatoes are said to be nutritious, and clear the complexion. I had half a dozen tins and one over from a broken grocer in Courtney Street. We’ll debauch on the odd tin. I am double your age, Joanna, and therefore require twice as much nutriment as you, so I shall eat two tomatoes to your one. You, however, may enjoy the gravy. Sop your bread in that, and close your eyes whilst it lies on your tongue. A tin of tomato is sold for one-and-threepence at the grocers and tenpence at the stores. Hang the expense; we will revel in good things for once; and we will wash down the tomatoes with water. That, Joanna, is the drink of the Quality. No more tawny old port, its day is done. Not nutty sherry any more. Not claret, nor Burgundy; not even champagne. They are all played out. Now the Quality are teetotal. Let us be of the Quality also, and teetotal too. Fashions change in drinks as in dress. Now it is cardinal red and marsala, then crushed strawberries and water. Prepare the table, Joanna.’
The girl obeyed without enthusiasm. She placed broad on the table in the kitchen, lighted the fire in the stove to heat some vegetables, and threw a ragged but clean cloth over the table. One candle and the fire in the stove illumined the wretched kitchen.
‘I take a little whisky with my water,’ said the Jew, pouring some spirits into his glass, ‘but I do not approve of alcohol for the young. It stunts their growth, and sows the seeds of a craving for strong liquor which may in after-life bring them to D. T.’
‘Who was Rachel?’ asked Joanna.
‘Upon my word, Joanna! What persistency you have! When you have set your head on doing a thing you do it, and when you have set your head on knowing a thing you give a body no peace till you know it.’
‘You promised to tell me.’
‘I must keep my promise; I am a conscientious man, and when I say a word I hold by it. That is the principle of business. Only at the last moment give your word a twist in your direction, if you can. When you have agreed to sell for three sovereigns don’t make out the bill for four, but for three guineas.’
‘Who was Rachel?’
‘Snuff the candle, Joanna, with your fingers, and—there—don’t throw the snuff on the floor lest you set it on fire; and don’t wipe your fingers in your apron where the smut will show, but in your hair, where it will not be seen.’
‘Who was Rachel?’
‘I will tell you, child, but really you irritate me with your pertinacity. I will first light a pipe. I don’t offer you one, as it is not decent for a woman to smoke. The habit might grow and interfere with your matrimonial prospects. Some women take cigarettes on the grounds that they suffer from asthma or bronchitis. You are sound in throat and lung, Joanna, sound as a bell. Never knew anything the matter with you except inordinate appetite. Let me have that chair, Joanna. It is the only one with a seat. You can accommodate yourself on the fender.’
An old flour-barrel stood in the corner. Joanna sprang on it and seated herself thereon. Then, fixing the Jew with her keen eyes, she asked again, ‘Who was Rachel?’
‘Really, Joanna,’ said the pawnbroker, ‘your ways are inhuman, and give one a cold shiver. You squat there on the cask like a goblin in an illustrated fairy-tale. You are not a bit like an ordinary girl. There is no buoyancy and freshness in you. Yet—I’ll tell you what—I’ll do something splendid to show you my gratitude, and wipe off my indebtedness. I’ll learn you to dance.’
‘What!’ exclaimed the girl, starting.
‘I have a bad debt with a dancing master,’ said the Jew; ‘and the only way in which I can recover my money is to take it out in lessons. You want refinement and deportment, and I will do what is magnanimous, and have you instructed by Mr. Deuxtemps in what becomes a lady. You shall learn to polk and jig and curtsey like a blue-blooded born marchioness.’
‘That’s grand,’ said Joanna.
‘I thought I should please you,’ said the Jew; ‘I’m not a master to be served without reward. Now I will do something more for you. I will show you the jewels I have, and perhaps let you put some on. I have diamonds, carbuncles, and sapphires fit to make a cat scream. Put out the fire, give me the candle, and follow me to my room.’
He led the way into his private chamber, where was his bed, and where he kept his most precious articles, his money, and his account-books. He set the candle on the table, and unlocked one of the sedan chairs. At the bottom was an iron chest. He opened it and took out some jewel cases. ‘No, my daughter,’ he said, ‘you cannot appreciate the darlings by this light. See this necklace, Joanna, it is made of pearls, and this brooch is of diamonds, so is the circlet for the hair. Get along with you; light another candle, curse the expense! and put the rose silk dress on you. Do up your hair as if for a ball, and I will try the jewels on you. I allow you a quarter of an hour for rigging yourself out. Take whatever you require, but mind and replace all when you have done; also, don’t remove the tickets.’
In about twenty minutes Joanna returned. When she entered she found a brass chandelier hung from the ceiling full of candles and alight, filling the room with unwonted splendour. The Jew sat on his bed rubbing his hands, and when she came in he laughed aloud and clapped his palms on his knees, and kicked his heels against the board at his bedside.
Joanna looked taller in her dress of rose silk. Her neck, bosom, and arms were bare. She had edged the breast and sleeves with rich old lace. Her raven hair was brushed back and rolled over her head, exposing her ears. Thinking her boots too heavy, she had thrown them off, and came in her stocking soles, but as the gown was long her lack of shoes was unperceived. She entered the room of Lazarus without a blush or a smile, perfectly composed in manner, and stood before him under the chandelier.
‘Give me the diamonds,’ she said.
‘No,’ he answered, ‘you shall have the pearls. An unmarried woman does not wear diamonds. I have a chain of Roman pearls for your hair, and another for your pretty throat.’
Lazarus looked at her with amazed admiration. She was extraordinarily beautiful; her neck long and graceful, her hair rich and lustrous, her features finely cut, and her magnificent eyes full of intelligence. The grub had developed into a gorgeous butterfly.
The Jew contemplated her in silence for some minutes, and then he screamed with laughter.
‘Joanna! your hands, your hands!’
She put her hands behind her, and coloured. ‘I could find no gloves,’ she said, looking down.
‘A pair of dirty hands is a badge of honour,’ said the pawnbroker. ‘Don’t be ashamed of them.’
‘They are not dirty,’ answered the girl, sullenly, ‘but grimy from work. I have washed and washed, but the black grain will not out.’
‘Work, work, work!’ said the Jew; ‘now dance.’
‘I cannot. I do not know how,’ answered Joanna. ‘Give me the jewels.’
He offered her the cases, and she put the pearls about her throat, then wove a chain in and out among her black hair.
‘You are very beautiful,’ said the Jew. ‘If your hands were gloved you would do famously.’
‘For what?’ asked Joanna.
‘For showing off dresses and jewels. When the ladies saw you they’d buy, thinking everything was sure to become them as they suit you.’
Then Joanna said quietly and determinedly, ‘Who was Rachel?’
‘Rachel, my dear! Bless me, for the moment I had forgotten her. I doubt if even she was as splendid a beauty as yourself, and you are handsome enough. She hadn’t your pertinacity. How you do fasten on one, and stick till you have extracted what you require!’
‘I want to know who Rachel was.’
‘There, sit down in the sedan, and I will tell you.’
‘I prefer to stand.’
‘Then stand, if you will. It costs less; you are not wearing out the leather of the seat. Besides, I like to look at you. I could sell that rose silk for half as much again if I could show you in it to a purchaser. Well, I’m sorry I said a word about Rachel. Her name slipped off my tongue, when my mouth was ajar. Rachel, my dear—Rachel was my wife.’
‘Your wife!—is she dead?’
‘No, Joanna, I believe not.’
‘Where is she?’
‘I do not know.’
‘Did she leave you?’
‘She was young, only seventeen, when I married her—one of my own faith and race, and beautiful—superbly beautiful. She did not fancy the business. She did not take to the house. Her taste lay in stage plays and dances, and gallivanting. We couldn’t agree, and after we had been married about a year she took herself off. How ever she could have the heart to leave all this furniture, and the carpets, and the second-hand plate, and the red coats, and a sweet Florentine marqueterie cabinet I then had, and afterwards sold for twenty-seven guineas, is amazing.’
‘Whither did she go?’
‘I do not know.’
‘And you do not know where she is now?’
‘I do not know.’
‘Has she ever shown a desire to return home?’
‘Never, never!’
‘Would you receive her if she did return?’
‘I would not.’
‘Why not?’
The Jew was silent. Joanna looked hard at him and asked, ‘Did she go alone?’
He sprang from the bed, and paced the room. His face was changed, and Joanna, who watched him, was startled and drew back; the expression of his features was so threatening and repulsive.
‘I have told you enough,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I will tell you no more.’
He continued to pace the room. His face was livid, his eyes glared, his thick coarse lips were tightly drawn, and his fleshy cheeks were lined and shrunk.
Presently he turned his head towards her, but he seemed scarcely to observe her. ‘Let me have him firm here, in the hollow of my hand,’ he said in hard tones vibrating with passion, ‘and I will squeeze and squeeze till the life is squeezed out of him. Let me grasp him, and I will tear him down, him and all his family. I will not spare him, and then I will caper over him, and you shall dance with me up and down and in and out over their broken bones and crushed flesh, and beat out their brains with our feet, and stamp their marrow into the mire.’ Then the door-bell rang.
Lazarus stood still, looking about him confusedly. He put his hand to his brow, to help his brain to recover its thoughts. Again the bell rang.
Joanna moved to the door to answer the summons.
‘No, no,’ said the Jew, ‘not in silk attire, not bedecked with pearls. I will go and see who rings.’