Why not ? My people in the town -LRB- we were very few -RRB- set me apart as a child of the prophecy -- the Chosen of the Chosen . We Jews dream so many dreams . You would never guess it to see us slink about the rubbish-heaps in our quarter ; but at the day 's end -- doors shut , candles lit -- aha ! then we became the Chosen again . ' He paced back and forth through the wood as he talked . The rattle of the shot-guns never ceased , and the dogs whimpered a little and lay flat on the leaves . ' I was a Prince . Yes ! Think of a little Prince who had never known rough words in his own house handed over to shouting , bearded Rabbis , who pulled his ears and filliped his nose , all that he might learn -- learn -- learn to be King when his time came . Hé ! Such a little Prince it was ! One eye he kept on the stone-throwing Moorish boys , and the other it roved about the streets looking for his Kingdom . Yes , and he learned to cry softly when he was hunted up and down those streets . He learned to do all things without noise . He played beneath his father 's table when the Great Candle was lit , and he listened as children listen to the talk of his father 's friends above the table . They came across the mountains , from out of all the world , for my Prince 's father was their counsellor . They came from behind the armies of Sala-ud-Din : from Rome : from Venice : from England . They stole down our alley , they tapped secretly at our door , they took off their rags , they arrayed themselves , and they talked to my father at the wine . All over the world the heathen fought each other .
They brought news of these wars , and while he played beneath the table , my Prince heard these meanly dressed ones decide between themselves how , and when , and for how long King should draw sword against XXXXX , and People rise up against People .
Hé King Moorish Prince Rome Sala-ud-Din Venice aha rubbish-heaps shot-guns