44 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
" Did I not tell you that he always supped with me on Friday evenings?" Manasseh reminded him quietly. " It is so good of him to accompany me even here — he will make the necessary third at grace."
The host took a frantic surreptitious glance at his wife. It was evident that her brain was in a whirl, the evidence of her senses conflicting with vague doubts of the possibilities of Spanish grandeeism and with a lingering belief in her husband's sanity.
Grobstock resolved to snatch the benefit of her doubts. "My dear," said he, " this is Mr. da Costa."
" Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa," said the Schnorrer.
The dame seemed a whit startled and impressed. She bowed, but words of welcome were still congealed in her throat.
"And this is Yankele ben Yitzchok," added Manasseh. "A poor friend of mine. I do not doubt, Mrs. Grobstock, that as a pious woman, the daughter of Moses Bernberg (his memory for a blessing), you prefer grace with three."
"Any friend of yours is welcome ! " She found her lips murmuring the conventional phrase without being able to check their output.
" I never doubted that either," said Manasseh gracefully. " Is not the hospitality of Moses Bernberg's beautiful daugh- ter a proverb? "
Moses Bernberg's daughter could not deny this ; her salon was the rendezvous of rich bagmen, brokers and bankers, tempered by occasional young bloods and old bucks not of the Jewish faith (nor any other). But she had never before encountered a personage so magnificently shabby, nor ex- tended her proverbial hospitality to a Polish Schnorre?' un- compromisingly musty. Joseph did not dare meet her eye.
