infernal Jews prevented Christians from collecting their lawful profits.
Half way down the hill, where the peaceful, drowsy sound of the water in the mill-race came unintermittently to his ears, the miller suddenly stopped and struck his forehead with the palm of his hand.
"Ha! What a joke it would be! It would be a grand joke, I swear! This the Day of Atonement. What if the Hebrew devil should take a fancy to our inn-keeper Yankel? But he won't! It couldn't possibly happen. The town is crammed with Jews, and Yankel is a tipsy old wretch, as bony as a hedgehog. Who would want him? No," thought the miller, "I'm not lucky enough for Khapun to choose our Yankel out of thousands of others."
Then, like a nest of ants in a turmoil, another train of thought began to pass through his head.
"Ah, Philip, Philip!" he said to himself. "It isn't right for a Christian to think such things! Recollect yourself! Yankel would leave children behind him, as well as debts. And another reason why it is sinful: Yankel has never done you any harm. If others have reason to blame the old inn-keeper, you yourself are not guiltless of usury."
But the miller hastily sent other and angrier thoughts to attack these last unpleasant reflections that had begun to bite his conscience like vicious dogs.
"But after all, a Sheeny is only a Sheeny, and isn't
