In the middle of the little town stood the shop of a Jew dealer in old clothes. It runs about gayly, it romps, it is bright and pretty, it has enormous quantities of soft hair and more power of expressing affection than its brothers. “Tell me,” he said; “speak to me. The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. .
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