Israel was returning to the Mellah after one of his secret excursions in the poor quarter of the Bab Ramooz, where he had spent the remainder of the money which old Reuben had paid him for the casket of his wife's jewels.

The night was warm, the moon shone with steady lustre, and the stars were almost obliterated as separate lights by a luminous silvery haze.

It was late, very late, and far and near the town was still.
With his innocent disguise, his Moorish jellab, hung over his arm, Israel had passed the Mellah gate, being the only Jew who was allowed to cross it after sunset.

He was feeling happy as he walked home through the sleeping streets, with his black shadow going in front.

The magic of the summer night possessed him, and his soul was full of joy.
All his misgivings had fallen away.