faced, rugged, with steady eyes that took her in unwinkingly. The
pair of them made a contrast not the less grotesque because in each
there was strength. For some moments neither spoke, while the baby
gurgled happily.

Truda sighed. "She knows you," she said. "She is a dear little
thing."

The Jew nodded. "She is dear to us," he said. "And we are very
grateful to you, Excellency."

He was still watching her with a shrewd scrutiny, as though he made
an estimate of her worth.

"That was her mother?" asked Truda. "The dead woman in the street, I
mean?"

"Yes," answered the man. "That was her mother. Her father went the
same way six months ago, but in another street."

Truda's lips parted, but she said nothing.

"Ah, perhaps your Excellency does not understand?" suggested the man.
The cynical humor in his face had no resemblance to mirth. "They were
Jews, you see--Jews."

"Judenhetze?" asked Truda. She had heard of old of that strange fever
that seizes certain peoples and inflames them with a rabid lust for
Jewish blood.