Tomorrow's dawn may summon cooler counsels. The tattle of the table, it
is sacred. Let us forget it; let us pass it over. The Lord may turn his
heart. Who knows, who knows, Abidan!'
'Noble sir, a moment since your mind was like your faith, firm and
resolved, and now----'
'School me not, school me not, good Abidan. There is that within my mind
you cannot fathom; some secret sorrows which are all my own. Leave
me, good friend, leave me awhile. When Israel calls me I shall not be
wanting. Be sure of that, Abidan, be sure of that. Nay, do not go; the
night is very rough, and the fair prophetess should not again stem the
swelling river. I'll to my closet, and will soon return.'
Jabaster quitted the gallery, and entered a small apartment. Several
large volumes, unclasped and open, were lying on various parts of the
divan. Before them stood his brazen cabalistic table. He closed
the chamber with a cautious air. He advanced into the centre of the
apartment. He lifted up his hands to heaven, and clasped them with an
expression almost of agony.
'Is it come to this?' he muttered in a tone of deep oppression. 'Is it
come to this? What is't I have heard? what done? Down, tempting devil,
down! O life! O glory! O my country, my chosen people, and my sacred
creed! why do we live, why act? Why have we feeling for aught that's
famous, or for aught that's holy? Let me die! let, let me die! The
torture of existence is too great.
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