"Ah, Monsieur," exclaimed the man, and with voluble politeness he ran
on with a long string of French, which of course was all Greek to poor
Israel. But what his language failed to convey, his gestures now made
very plain. Pointing to the wet muddy state of the bridge, splashed by
a recent rain, and then to the feet of the wayfarer, and lastly to the
brush in his hand, he appeared to be deeply regretting that a gentleman
of Israel's otherwise imposing appearance should be seen abroad with
unpolished boots, offering at the same time to remove their blemishes.

"Ah, Monsieur, Monsieur," cried the man, at last running up to Israel.
And with tender violence he forced him towards the box, and lifting this
unwilling customer's right foot thereon, was proceeding vigorously to
work, when suddenly illuminated by a dreadful suspicion, Israel,
fetching the box a terrible kick, took to his false heels and ran like
mad over the bridge.

Incensed that his politeness should receive such an ungracious return,
the man pursued, which but confirming Israel in his suspicions he ran
all the faster, and thanks to his fleetness, soon succeeded in escaping
his pursuer.

Arrived at last at the street and the house to which he had been
directed, in reply to his summons, the gate very strangely of itself
swung open, and much astonished at this unlooked-for sort of
enchantment, Israel entered a wide vaulted passage leading to an open
court within. While he was wondering that no soul appeared, suddenly he
was hailed from a dark little window, where sat an old man cobbling
shoes, while an old woman standing by his side was thrusting her head
into the passage, intently eyeing the stranger. They proved to be the
porter and portress, the latter of whom, upon hearing his summons, had