Other Things Being Equal [16]
be done. It is nonsense to call me in when he persists in cutting up such antics. Good-afternoon."
And abruptly raising his hat, he sprang in beside Ruth, taking the reins from her without a word.
She felt very meek and small beside the evidently exasperated physician. He seemed to forget her presence entirely, and she had too much tact to break the silence of an angry man. In nine cases out of ten, the explosion is bound to take place; but woe to him who lights the powder!
They were now driving northeast toward the quarter known as North Beach. The sweet, fresh breeze in the western heights toward Golden Gate is here charged with odors redolent of anything but the "shores of Araby the blest."
Kemp finally gave vent to his feelings.
"Some men," he said deliberately, as if laying down an axiom, "have no more conception of the dignity of controlled appetites than savages. Here is one who could not withstand anything savory to eat, to save his soul; otherwise he is a strong, sensible man. I can't account for it."
"The force of habit, perhaps," suggested Ruth.
"Probably. Jewish appetite is known to dote on the fat of the land."
That he said this with as little vituperation as if he had remarked on the weather Ruth knew; and she felt no inclination to resent the remark, although a vision of her cousin Jennie protesting did present itself. Some Jewish people with diseased imaginations take every remark on the race as a personal calumny.
"We always make the reservation that the fat be clean," she laughed.
Kemp flashed around at her.
"Miss Levice," he exclaimed contritely, "I completely forgot--I hope I was not rude."
"Why, certainly not," she answered half merrily, half earnestly. "Why should you be?"
"As you say, why should I be? Jewish individuals, of course, have their faults like the rest of humanity. As a race, most of their characteristics redound to their honor, in my estimation."
"Thank you," said the girl, quietly. "I am very proud of many Jewish traits."
"Such as a high morality, loyalty, intelligence, filial respect, and countless other things."
"Yes."
"Besides, it is wonderful how they hold the balance of power in the musical and histrionic worlds. Still, to be candid, in comparison with these, they do not seem to have made much headway in the other branches of art. Can you explain it, Miss Levice?"
He waited deferentially for a reply.
"I was trying to think of a proper answer," she responded with earnest simplicity; "and I think that their great musical and histrionic powers are the results not so much of art as of passion inherited from times and circumstances stern and sad since the race began. Painting and sculpture require other things."
"Which the Jew cannot obtain?"
A soft glow overspread her face and mounted to her brow.
"Dr. Kemp," she answered, "we have begun. I should like to quote to you the beautiful illustration with which one of our rabbis was inspired to answer a clergyman asking the same question; but I should only spoil that which in his mouth seemed eloquent."
"You would not, Miss Levice. Tell the story, please."
They were on level ground, and the doctor could disengage his attention from the horses. He did not fail to note the emotion that lit up her expressive face, and made her sweet voice tremble.
"It is the story of the Rose of Sharon. This is it briefly: A pilgrim was about to start on a voyage to the Holy Land. In bidding a friend good-by, he said: 'In that far land to which I am journeying, is there not some relic, some sacred souvenir of the time beautiful, that I can bring to you?' The friend mused awhile. 'Yes,' he made answer finally; 'there is a small thing, and one not difficult to obtain. I beg of you to bring me a single rose from the plains of Sharon.' The pilgrim promised, and departed. On his return he presented himself before his friend. 'You have brought it?' he cried. 'Friend,' answered the pilgrim, sadly, 'I have brought your rose; but, alas! After all this weary travelling it
And abruptly raising his hat, he sprang in beside Ruth, taking the reins from her without a word.
She felt very meek and small beside the evidently exasperated physician. He seemed to forget her presence entirely, and she had too much tact to break the silence of an angry man. In nine cases out of ten, the explosion is bound to take place; but woe to him who lights the powder!
They were now driving northeast toward the quarter known as North Beach. The sweet, fresh breeze in the western heights toward Golden Gate is here charged with odors redolent of anything but the "shores of Araby the blest."
Kemp finally gave vent to his feelings.
"Some men," he said deliberately, as if laying down an axiom, "have no more conception of the dignity of controlled appetites than savages. Here is one who could not withstand anything savory to eat, to save his soul; otherwise he is a strong, sensible man. I can't account for it."
"The force of habit, perhaps," suggested Ruth.
"Probably. Jewish appetite is known to dote on the fat of the land."
That he said this with as little vituperation as if he had remarked on the weather Ruth knew; and she felt no inclination to resent the remark, although a vision of her cousin Jennie protesting did present itself. Some Jewish people with diseased imaginations take every remark on the race as a personal calumny.
"We always make the reservation that the fat be clean," she laughed.
Kemp flashed around at her.
"Miss Levice," he exclaimed contritely, "I completely forgot--I hope I was not rude."
"Why, certainly not," she answered half merrily, half earnestly. "Why should you be?"
"As you say, why should I be? Jewish individuals, of course, have their faults like the rest of humanity. As a race, most of their characteristics redound to their honor, in my estimation."
"Thank you," said the girl, quietly. "I am very proud of many Jewish traits."
"Such as a high morality, loyalty, intelligence, filial respect, and countless other things."
"Yes."
"Besides, it is wonderful how they hold the balance of power in the musical and histrionic worlds. Still, to be candid, in comparison with these, they do not seem to have made much headway in the other branches of art. Can you explain it, Miss Levice?"
He waited deferentially for a reply.
"I was trying to think of a proper answer," she responded with earnest simplicity; "and I think that their great musical and histrionic powers are the results not so much of art as of passion inherited from times and circumstances stern and sad since the race began. Painting and sculpture require other things."
"Which the Jew cannot obtain?"
A soft glow overspread her face and mounted to her brow.
"Dr. Kemp," she answered, "we have begun. I should like to quote to you the beautiful illustration with which one of our rabbis was inspired to answer a clergyman asking the same question; but I should only spoil that which in his mouth seemed eloquent."
"You would not, Miss Levice. Tell the story, please."
They were on level ground, and the doctor could disengage his attention from the horses. He did not fail to note the emotion that lit up her expressive face, and made her sweet voice tremble.
"It is the story of the Rose of Sharon. This is it briefly: A pilgrim was about to start on a voyage to the Holy Land. In bidding a friend good-by, he said: 'In that far land to which I am journeying, is there not some relic, some sacred souvenir of the time beautiful, that I can bring to you?' The friend mused awhile. 'Yes,' he made answer finally; 'there is a small thing, and one not difficult to obtain. I beg of you to bring me a single rose from the plains of Sharon.' The pilgrim promised, and departed. On his return he presented himself before his friend. 'You have brought it?' he cried. 'Friend,' answered the pilgrim, sadly, 'I have brought your rose; but, alas! After all this weary travelling it