The Kabbalist Read Free Page A

opportunity. Many
men and women were already standing on the deck, having paid for their lives in
gold and jewelry. Yaakov pushed his way to the front of the line. The Sicilian
had just finished bargaining with the man before him and was now turning to
Yaakov.
    De Flor looked at
Yaakov contemptuously. His eyes scanned him from head to toe. “What do you
want, Jew?” he growled. “The prices here are not something the likes of you can
afford.”
    Yaakov pulled out the
small leather purse, opened it and showed its contents to Roger. The eyes of
the Sicilian widened in surprise and greed. He grinned. “Well, well… who would
have believed… a wretched, stinking Jew like you… but this is fine with me.
Money, my friend, has no smell.” Yaakov handed him the purse, and Roger stepped
back, clearing the passage to the gangway for him, while taking off his hat and
bowing mockingly. “Come aboard, Jew,” he said. “You will be my guest of honor.”
    Many people were
already crowding the deck, anxiously eyeing each joining passenger. It was
becoming overcrowded, causing great discomfort on board. Even worse, the excess
weight was causing the ship to sink below its high waterline.
    The ‘Sea Falcon’ was
dangerously overloaded.

4.      Pascal de Charney - Normandy, April 19 th ,
1798
    C avalry Captain Pascal
de Charney jumped off the saddle and entrusted the harness in the hands of good
old Georges. He ran up the stairway leading into the entrance of the big house,
skipping two steps at a time, and stormed inside. The familiar smell was
welcoming. ‘It is so good to be home again’, he thought, ’even if only for a
very short visit.’ Entering the large lobby, Pascal noticed from the corner of
his eye a small figure rushing down the big stairway descending from the upper
floor. In seconds, she was flying into his arms with screams of joy, and he
barely managed to catch her. With her little arms, she clung to his neck,
covering his face with her kisses.
    “Pascal, I am so glad
you are here. You look amazing in uniform. I wore my new dress especially for you,
and I must show you Jacques, my new cat…”
    Pascal burst into
laughter. His little sister was a force of nature and a never-ending source of
exploding energy. “Just a moment, Arlette, let me take a good look at you.” He
placed her gently on the floor and the eight-year-old instantly burst into a
short jig, which she ended by spinning on her toes like a ballet dancer. Having
concluded her piece, she bowed ceremoniously, putting a serious expression on
her pretty face.
    “How cute you are…” he
started saying, but seeing the dark cloud descending on her face, he
immediately corrected himself. “I meant… how beautiful you are and how dazzling
this dress looks on you.”
    The small face beamed
at him, and he stroked her head. She gripped his hand. “Papa is waiting for you
inside,” she said and promptly pulled him after her, running in the direction
of the main sitting room. “Papa, Papa, he has finally arrived. He is here!”
    The man sitting in the armchair
with his back to them closed the book he was reading, laid it on the table and
rose to his feet. Roland de Charney was a tall, well-built, impressive man, with
penetrating gray-blue eyes, who looked older than his fifty-seven years. He
looked at Arlette, and a flicker of a smile appeared for a second in his otherwise
stern eyes. To be sure, his youngest daughter was a spoiled brat, but she was
also the most beautiful, most charming and smartest girl in the world, and he
absolutely adored her. She was the last gift he received from his beloved wife
who did not survive the difficult labor and died at birth, eight years before.
Little Arlette was a beam of light in the life of this taciturn man.
    “Pascal, my son…”
    “Papa…”
    The two men embraced.
“Arlette, please leave us,” said Roland.
    “But, Papa…”
    “Arlette!”
    The little girl sensed
the severity in his voice and with