A ROSE OF THE GHETTO. 305
his heart. The shock threw his head up with a jerk, so that his eyes gazed into a face whose beauty and tenderness were revealed to him for the first time. The face of his old acquaintance had vanished — this was a cajoling, coquettish, smiling face, suggesting undreamed-of things.
u Nu, yes," he replied, without perceptible pause.
" An, good ! " she rejoined as quickly.
And in the ecstasy of that moment of mutual under- standing Leibel forgot to wonder why he had never thought of Rose before. Afterwards he remembered that she had always been his social superior.
The situation seemed too dreamlike for explanation to the room just yet. Leibel lovingly passed the bottle of ginger- beer and Rose took a sip, with a beautiful air of plighting troth, understood only of those two. When Leibel quaffed the remnant it intoxicated him. The relics of the bread and cheese were the ambrosia to this nectar. They did not dare kiss — the suddenness of it all left them bashful, and the smack of lips would have been like a cannon-peal announcing their engagement. There was a subtler sweetness in this sense of a secret, apart from the fact that neither cared to break the news to the master- tailor — a stern little old man. Leibel's chalk-marks con- tinued indecisive that afternoon ; which shows how correctly Rose had connected them with love.
Before he left that night Rose said to him : " Art thou sure thou wouldst not rather have Leah Volcovitch?"
" Not for all the boots and shoes in the world," replied Leibel vehemently.
"And I," protested Rose, "would rather go without my own than without thee."
The landing outside the workshop was so badly lighted that their lips came together in the darkness.
