Here the doctor interrupted the old woman's torrent of speech with a
stern "enough!" but she would not allow herself to be checked, and
continued with increasing volubility.

"Enough, you say? I fret over perversity enough in silence. May my
tongue wither, if I remain mute to-day. Good God! child, are you out
of your senses? Everything has been crammed into your poor head, but
to be sure it isn't written in the books, that when people find out what
happened in Porto, and that you married a baptized child, a Gentile,
a Christian girl......"

At these words the doctor rose, laid his hands on the servant's shoulder,
and said with grave, quiet earnestness.

"Whoever speaks of that, may betray it; may betray it. Do you
understand me, Rahel? I know your good intentions, and therefore tell
you: my wife is content here, and danger is still far away. We shall
stay. And besides: since Elizabeth became mine, the Jews avoid me as an
accursed, the Christians as a condemned man. The former close the doors,
the latter would fain open them; the gates of a prison, I mean. No
Portuguese will come here, but in the Netherlands there is more than one
monk and one Jew from Porto, and if any of them recognize me and find
Elizabeth with me, it will involve no less trifle than her life and mine.
I shall stay here; you now know why, and can go to your kitchen."

Old Rahel reluctantly obeyed, yet the doctor did not resume his seat at
the writing-table, but for a long time paced up and down among his books
more rapidly than usual.