Round and round... Now the figure eight. Now the dollar sign. Now the spread eagle. A little kerosene and a match, and I would go up like a Christmas tree.

«Mr. Miller! Mr. Miller!» calls Juan. «Mr. Miller, stop it! Please stop it!»

The boy looks frightened. What can it be that makes him stare at me so?

«Mr. Miller,» he says, clutching me by the coat tail, «please don't laugh so! Please, I'm afraid for you.»

I relaxed. A broad grin came over my face, then softened to an amiable smile.

«That's better, sir. You had me worried. Hadn't we better go now?»

«I think so, Juan. I think we've had enough exercise for to day. To-morrow you will get a bicycle. Are you hungry?»

«Yes sir, I am indeed. I always have a fabulous appetite. Once I ate a whole chicken all by myself. That was when my aunt died.»

«We'll have chicken to-night, Juan me lad. Two chickens—one for you and one for me.»

«You're very kind, sir... Are you sure you're all right now?»

«Fine as a fiddle, Juan. Now where do you suppose we could buy a mourning dress at this hour?»

«I'm sure I don't know,» said Juan. In the street I hailed a taxi. I had an idea that on the East Side there would be shops still open. The driver was certain he could find one.

«It's very lively down here, isn't it?» said Juan, as we alighted in front of a dress shop. «Is it always this way?»

«Always,» I said. «A perpetual fiesta. Only the poor enjoy life.»

«I should like to work down here some time,» said Juan. «What language do they speak here?»

«All languages,» I said. «You can also speak English.»

The proprietor was standing at the door. He gave Juan a friendly pat on the head.

«I would like a mourning dress, size 16,» I said. «Not too expensive. It must be delivered to-night, C. O. D.»

A dark young Jewess with a Russian accent stepped forward. «Is it for a young or an old woman?» she said.

«A young woman, about your size. For my wife.»

She began showing me various models. I told her to choose the one she thought most suitable. «Not an ugly one,» I begged, «and not too chic either. You know what I mean.»

«And the gloves,» said Juan. «Don't forget the gloves.»

«What size?» asked the young lady.

«Let me see your hands,» I said. I studied them a moment. «A little larger than yours.»

I gave the address and left a generous tip for the errand boy. The proprietor now came up, began talking to Juan. He seemed to take a great fancy to him.

«Where do you come from, sonny?» he asked. «From Puerto Rico?»

«From Cuba,» said Juan.

«Do you speak Spanish?»

«Yes sir, and French and Portuguese.»

«You're very young to know so many languages.»

«My father taught me them. My father was the editor of a newspaper in Havana.»

«Well, well,» said the proprietor. «You remind me of a little boy I knew in Odessa.»

«Odessa!» said Juan. «I was in Odessa once. I was a cabin boy on a trading ship.»

«What!» exclaimed the proprietor. «You were in Odessa? It's unbelievable. How old are you?»

«I'm eighteen, sir.»

The proprietor turned to me. He wanted to know if he couldn't invite us to have a drink with him in the ice cream parlor next door.

We accepted the invitation with pleasure. Our host, whose name was Eisenstein, began to talk about Russia. He had been a medical student originally. The boy who resembled Juan was his son who had died. «He was a strange boy,» said Mr. Eisenstein. «He didn't resemble any of the family. And he had his own way of thinking. He wanted to tramp around the world. No matter what you told him he had a different idea. He was a little philosopher. Once he ran away to Egypt—because he wanted to study the pyramids. When we told him we were going to America he said he would go to China. He said he didn't want to become rich, like the Americans. A strange boy! Such independence! Nothing frightened him—not even the Cossacks. I was almost afraid of him sometimes. Where did he come from? He didn't even look like a Jew...»

He went into a monologue about the strange blood that had been poured into the veins of the Jews in their wanderings. He spoke of strange tribes in Arabia, Africa, China. He thought even the Eskimos might have Jewish blood in them. As he talked he became intoxicated by this idea of the mixture of races and bloods. The world would be a stagnant pool had it not been for the Jews. «We are like seeds carried by the wind,» he said. «We blossom everywhere. Hardy plants. Until we are pulled up by the roots. Even then we don't perish. We can live upside down. We can grow between stones.»

All this time he had taken me for a Jew. Finally I explained that I was not a Jew, but that my wife was.

«And she became a Christian?»

«No, I'm becoming a Jew.»

Juan was looking at me with big, questioning eyes. Mr. Eisenstein didn't know whether I was joking or not.

«When I come down here,» I said, «I feel happy. I don't know what it is, but I feel more at home here. Maybe I have Jewish blood and don't know it.»

«I'm afraid not,» said Mr. Eisenstein. «You're attracted, because you're not a Jew. You like what is different, that's all. Maybe you hated the Jews once. That happens sometimes. Suddenly a man sees that he was mistaken and then he becomes violently in love with what he once hated. He goes to the other extreme. I know a Gentile who became converted to Judaism. We don't try to convert, you know that. If you're a good Christian it's better that you stay a Christian.»

«But I don't care about the religion,» I said.

«The religion is everything,» he said. «If you can't be a good Christian you can't be a good Jew.

We are not a people or a race—we're a religion.»

«That's what you say, but I don't believe it. It's more than that. It's as though you were a kind of bacteria. Nothing can explain your survival, certainly not your faith. That's why I'm so curious, why I get excited when I'm with your people. I would like to possess the secret.»

«Well, study your wife,» said he.

«I do but I don't make her out. She's a mystery.»

«But you love her?»

«Yes,» I said, «I love her passionately.»

«And why aren't you with her now? Why do you have the dress sent to her? Who is it that died?»

«Her father,» I answered. «But I never met him,» I added rapidly. «I've never been inside her home.»

«That's bad,» he said. «There's something wrong there. You should go to her. Never mind if she didn't ask you. Go to her! Don't let her be ashamed of her parents. You don't have to go to the funeral, but you should let her see that you care for her family. You are only an accident in her life. When you die the family will go on. They will absorb your blood. We have drunk the blood of every race. We go on like a river. You must not think you are marrying her alone—you are marrying the Jewish race, the Jewish people. We give you life and strength. We nourish you. In the end all peoples will come together. We will have peace. We will make a new world. And there will be room for everybody... No, don't leave her alone now. You will regret it, if you do. She is proud, that's what it is. You must be soft and gentle. You must woo her like a pigeon. Maybe she loves you now, but later she will love you more. She will hold you like a vise. There is no love like that of the Jewish woman for the man she gives her heart to. Especially if he is of Gentile blood. It is a great victory for her. It is better for you to surrender than to be the master.... You will excuse me for speaking this way, but I know what I am talking about. And I see you are not an ordinary Gentile. You are one of those lost Gentiles—you are searching for something... you don't know what exactly. We know your kind. We are not always eager to have your love. We have been betrayed so often. Sometimes it is better to have a good enemy—then we know where we stand. With your kind we are never sure where we stand. You are like water—and we are rocks. You eat us away little by little—not with malice, but with kindness. You lap against us like the waves of the sea. The big waves we can meet— but the gentle lapping, that takes our strength away.» I was so excited by this unexpected excursus that I had to interrupt his speech.