Ringlets glossy, and curly, and jetty--eyes black as night--midsummer night--when it lightens; haughty noses bending like beaks of eagles--eager quivering nostrils--lips curved like the bow of Love--every man or maiden, every babe or matron in that English Jewry bore in his countenance one or more of these characteristics of his peerless Arab race.
"How beautiful they are!" mused Codlingsby, as he surveyed these placid groups calmly taking their pleasure in the sunset.
"D'you vant to look at a nishe coat ?" a voice said, which made him start; and then some one behind him began handling a masterpiece of Stultz's with a familiarity which would have made the baron tremble.
"Rafael Mendoza!" exclaimed Godfrey.
"The same, Lord Codlingsby," the individual so apostrophized replied.

"I told you we should meet again where you would little expect me.

Will it please you to enter?
this is Friday, and we close at sunset.

It rejoices my heart to welcome you home." So saying Rafael laid his hand on his breast, and bowed, an oriental reverence.

All traces of the accent with which he first addressed Lord Codlingsby had vanished: it was disguise; half the Hebrew's life is a disguise.