He tried, vainly, to
get his thoughts straight, and lit a cigarette with apparent calmness,
swaggering to the window; but his legs did not cease to tremble, and the
unsteadiness of his gait caused Xantippe to smile as she watched him.
Resting by the window, Gregorio widened the lips of the lattice and let
in a stream of moonbeams that rested on wife and child, illumining the
dark corner.
"Gregorio!"
"Yes."
"Have you told me all? Is there nothing else to tell em about our son
and the Jew?"
Gregorio felt he must now speak; it was not possible to keep silence
longer. He was pleased that his wife had begun the conversation, for it
seemed easier to answer questions than to frame them. "I have told you
the whole story. There is no more to tell. It was by accident I found
him in the bazaar, and that devil Amos was bending over him. I could
kill that man."
"What good would that do?"
"Fancy if we had lost the boy! Think of the sacrifices we have made for
him, and they would have been useless."
"Have you made any sacrifices, Gregorio?"
The question was quietly asked, but there was a ring of irony in the
sound of the voice, and Gregorio, to shun his wife's gaze, moved into
the friendly shadows.
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