A GHETTO VIOLET

By Leopold Kompert

From "Christian and Leah. " Translated by A. S. Arnold. 

1869

Through the open window came the clear trill of a canary singingblithely in its cage. Within the tidy, homely little room a pale-facedgirl and a youth of slender frame listened intently while the bird sangits song. The girl was the first to break the silence. 

"Ephraim, my brother!" she said. 

"What is it, dear Viola?"

"I wonder does the birdie know that it is the Sabbath to-day?"

"What a child you are!" answered Ephraim. 

"Yes, that 's always the way; when you clever men can't explain athing, you simply dismiss the question by calling it childish, " Violaexclaimed, as though quite angry. "And, pray, why should n't the birdknow? The whole week it scarcely sang a note: to-day it warbles andwarbles so that it makes my head ache. And what's the reason? EverySabbath it's just the same, I notice it regularly. Shall I tell you whatmy idea is?

"The whole week long the little bird looks into our room and seesnothing but the humdrum of work-a-day life. To-day it sees the brightrays of the Sabbath lamp and the white Sabbath cloth upon the table. Don't you think I 'm right, Ephraim?"

"Wait, dear Viola, " said Ephraim, and he went to the cage. 

The bird's song suddenly ceased. 

"Now you 've spoilt its Sabbath!" cried the girl, and she was so excitedthat the book which had been lying upon her lap fell to the ground. 

Ephraim turned towards her; he looked at her solemnly, and said quietly:

"Pick up your prayer-book first, and then I 'll answer. A holy bookshould not be on the ground like that. Had our mother dropped herprayer-book, she would have kissed it. .. . Kiss it, Viola, my child!"

Viola did so. 

"And now I 'll tell you, dear Viola, what I think is the reason why thebird sings so blithely to-day. .. . Of course, I don't say I 'm right. "

Viola's brown eyes were fixed inquiringly upon her brother's face. 

"How seriously you talk to-day, " she said, making a feeble attempt ata smile. "I was only joking. Must n't I ask if the bird knows anythingabout the Sabbath?"

"There are subjects it is sinful to joke about, and this may be one ofthem, Viola. "

"You really quite frighten me, Ephraim. "

"You little goose, I don't want to frighten you, " said Ephraim, while afaint flush suffused his features. "I 'll tell you my opinion aboutthe singing of the bird. I think, dear Viola, that our little canaryknows. .. That before long it will change its quarters. "

"You 're surely not going to sell it or give it away?" cried the girl, in great alarm; and springing to her feet, she quickly drew her brotheraway from the cage. 

"No, I 'm not going to sell it nor give it away, " said Ephraim, whosequiet bearing contrasted strongly with his sister's excitement "Is itlikely that I should do anything that would give you pain? And yet, Ihave but to say one word. .. And I 'll wager that you will be the firstto open the cage and say to the bird, 'Fly, fly away, birdie, fly awayhome!'"

"Never, never!" cried the girl. 

"Viola, " said Ephraim beseechingly, "I have taken a vow. Surely youwould not have me break it?"

"A vow?" asked his sister. 

"Viola, " Ephraim continued, as he bent his head down to the girl's face, "I have vowed to myself that whenever he. .. Our father. .. Should return, I would give our little bird its freedom. It shall be free, free as hewill be. "

"Ephraim!"

"He is coming--he is already on his way home. "

Viola flung her arms round her brother's neck. For a long time brotherand sister remained locked in a close embrace. 

Meanwhile the bird resumed its jubilant song. 

"Do you hear how it sings again?" said Ephraim; and he gently strokedhis sister's hair. "It knows that it will soon be free. "

"A father out of jail!" sobbed Viola, as she released herself from herbrother's arms. 

"He has had his punishment, dear Viola!" said Ephraim softly. 

Viola turned away. There was a painful silence, and then she lookedup at her brother again. Her face was aglow, her eyes sparkled with astrange fire; she was trembling with agitation. 

Never before had Ephraim seen her thus. 

"Ephraim, my brother, " she commenced, in that measured monotone sopeculiar to intense emotion, "with the bird you can do as you please. You can set it free, or, if you like, you can wring its neck. But asfor him, I 'll never look in his face again, from me he shall not havea word of welcome. He broke our mother's heart. .. Our good, good mother;he has dishonored himself and us. And I can never forget it. "

"Is it right for a child to talk like that of her own father?" saidEphraim in a tremulous voice. 

"When a child has good cause to be ashamed of her own father!" criedViola. 

"Oh, my Viola, you must have forgotten dear mother's dying words. Don'tyou remember, as she opened her eyes for the last time, how she gatheredup her failing strength, and raising herself in her bed, 'Children, 'she said, 'my memory will protect you both, yea, and your father too. 'Viola, have you forgotten?"

Had you entered that little room an hour later, a touching sight wouldhave met your eyes. Viola was seated on her brother's knee, her armsround his neck, whilst Ephraim with the gentle love of a brother for ayounger sister, was stroking her hair, and whispering in her ear sweetwords of solace. 

The bird-cage was empty. .. . That evening Ephraim sat up till midnight. Outside in the Ghetto reigned the stillness of night. 

All at once Ephraim rose from his chair, walked to the old bureau whichstood near the door, opened it, and took from it a bulky volume, whichhe laid upon the table in front of him. But he did not seem at all bentupon reading. He began fingering the pages, until he came upon a bundleof bank-notes, and these he proceeded to count, with a whisperingmovement of his lips. He had but three or four more notes still tocount, when his sharp ear detected the sound of stealthy footsteps, in the little courtyard in front of the house. Closing the book, andhastily putting it back again in the old bureau, Ephraim sprang to thewindow and opened it. 

"Is that you, father?" he cried. 

There was no answer. 

Ephraim repeated his question. 

He strained his eyes, peering into the dense darkness, but no livingthing could he see. Then quite close to him a voice cried: "Make nonoise. .. And first put out the light. "

"Heavens! Father, it is you then. .. !" Ephraim exclaimed. 

"Hush!" came in a whisper from without, "first put out the light. "

Ephraim closed the window, and extinguished the light Then, withalmost inaudible step, he walked out of the room into the dark passage;noiselessly he proceeded to unbolt the street-door. Almost at the samemoment a heavy hand clasped his own. 

"Father, father!" Ephraim cried, trying to raise his parent's hand tohis lips. 

"Make no noise, " the man repeated, in a somewhat commanding tone. 

With his father's hand in his, cautiously feeling his way, Ephraimled him into the room. In the room adjoining lay Viola, sleepingpeacefully. .. . 

Time was when "Wild" Ascher's welcome home had been far otherwise. Eighteen years before, upon that very threshold which he now crossedwith halting, stealthy steps, as of a thief in the night, stood a fairand loving wife, holding a sturdy lad aloft in her arms, so that thefather might at once see, as he turned the street corner, that wife andchild were well and happy. Not another Ghetto in all Bohemia could showa handsomer and happier couple than Ascher and his wife. "Wild" Ascherwas one of those intrepid, venturesome spirits, to whom no obstacle isso great that it cannot be surmounted. And the success which crownedhis long, persistent wooing was often cited as striking testimony to hisindomitable will. Gudule was famous throughout the Ghetto as "the girlwith the wonderful eyes, " eyes--so the saying ran--into which no mancould look and think of evil. During the earlier years of their marriedlife those unfathomable brown eyes exercised on Ascher the full power oftheir fascination. A time came, however, when he alleged that those veryeyes had been the cause of all his ruin. 

Gudule's birthplace was far removed from the Ghetto, where Ascher hadfirst seen the light. Her father was a wealthy farmer in a secludedvillage in Lower Bohemia. But distant though it was from the nearesttown of any importance, the solitary grange became the centre ofattraction to all the young swains far and near. But there was nonewho found favor in Gudule's eyes save "Wild Ascher, " in spite of many afriendly warning to beware of him. One day, just before the betrothal ofthe young people, an anonymous letter was delivered at the grange. The writer, who called himself an old friend, entreated the farmer toprevent his dear child from becoming the wife of one who was suspectedof being a gambler. The farmer was of an easy-going, indulgent nature, shunning care and anxiety as a very plague. Accordingly, no sooner hadhe read the anonymous missive than he handed it to his daughter, asthough its contents were no concern of his. 

When Gudule had read the letter to the end, she merely remarked:"Father, this concerns me, and nobody else. "

And so the matter dropped. 

Not until the wedding-day, half an hour before the ceremony, when themarriage canopy had already been erected in the courtyard, didthe farmer sum up courage to revert to the warning of the unknownletter-writer. Taking his future son-in-law aside, he said:

"Ascher, is it true that you gamble?"

"Father, " Ascher answered with equal firmness, "Gudule's eyes will saveme!" Ascher had uttered no untruth when he gave his father-in-law thisassurance. He spoke in all earnestness, for like every one else he knewthe magnetic power of Gudule's eyes. 

Nowhere, probably, does the grim, consuming pestilence of gaming claimmore victims than in the Ghetto. The ravages of drink and debauchery areslight indeed; but the tortuous streets can show too many a humble homehaunted by the spectres of ruin and misery which stalked across thethreshold when the _first card game_ was played. 

It was with almost feverish anxiety that the eyes of the Ghetto werefixed upon the development of a character like Ascher's; they followedhis every step with the closest attention. Long experience had taughtthe Ghetto that no gambler could be trusted. 

As though conscious that all eyes were upon him, Ascher showed himselfmost punctilious in the discharge of even the minutest of communalduties which devolved upon him as a denizen of the Ghetto, and hishabits of life were almost ostentatiously regular and decorous. Hisbusiness had prospered, and Gudule had borne him a son. 

"Well, Gudule, my child, " the farmer asked his daughter on the day whenhis grandson was received into the covenant of Abraham, --"well, Gudule, was the letter right?"

"What letter?" asked Gudule. 

"That in which your husband was called a gambler. "

"And can you still give a thought to such a letter?" was Gudule'ssignificant reply. 

Three years later, Gudule's father came to visit her. This time sheshowed him his second grandchild, her little Viola. He kissed thechildren, and round little Viola's neck clasped three rows of pearls, "that the child may know it had a grandfather once. "

"And where are your pearls, Gudule?" he asked, "those left you by yourmother, --may she rest in peace! She always set such store by them. "

"Those, father?" Gudule replied, turning pale; "oh, my husband has takenthem to a goldsmith in Prague. They require a new clasp. "

"I see, " remarked her father. Notwithstanding his limited powers ofobservation, it did not escape the old man's eyes that Gudule lookedalarmingly wan and emaciated. He saw it, and it grieved his very soul. He said nothing however: only, when leaving, and after he had kissed the_Mezuza_* he said to Gudule (who, with little Viola in her arms, wentwith him to the door), in a voice quivering with suppressed emotion:"Gudule, my child, the pearl necklet which I have given your littleViola has a clasp strong enough to last a hundred years. .. You neednever, therefore, give it to your husband to have a new clasp made forit. "

 * Small cylinder inclosing a roll of parchment inscribed with the Hebrew word _Shadai_ (Almighty) and with other texts, which is affixed to the lintel of every Jewish house. 

And without bestowing another glance upon his child the easy-going manleft the house. It was his last visit. Within the year Gudule receiveda letter from her eldest brother telling her that their father was dead, and that she would have to keep the week of mourning for him. Ever sincehis last visit to her--her brother wrote--the old man had been somewhatailing, but knowing his vigorous constitution, they had paid little heedto his complaints. It was only during the last few weeks that a markedloss of strength had been noticed. This was followed by fever anddelirium. Whenever he was asked whether he would not like to see Gudule, his only answer was: "She must not give away the clasp of little Viola'snecklet. " And but an hour before his death, he raised his voice, andloudly called for "the letter. " Nobody knew what letter. "Gudule knowswhere it is, " he said, with a gentle shake of his head. Those were thelast words he spoke. 

Had the old man's eyes deceived him on the occasion of his last visitto his son-in-law's house? No! For, setting aside the incident of themissing pearls, the whole Ghetto could long since have told him that thewarning of the anonymous letter was not unfounded--for Gudule was thewife of a gambler. 

With the resistless impetuosity of a torrent released from its prisonof ice and snow, the old invincible disease had again overwhelmed itsvictim. Gudule noticed the first signs of it when one day her husbandreturned home from one of his business journeys earlier than he hadarranged. Gudule had not expected him. 

"Why did you not come to meet me with the children?" he cried peevishly;"do you begrudge me even that pleasure?"

"_I_ begrudge you a pleasure?" Gudule ventured to remark, as she raisedher swimming eyes to his face. 

"Why do you look at me so tearfully?" he almost shouted. 

Ascher loved his wife, and when he saw the effect which his rough wordshad produced, he tenderly embraced her. "Am I not right, Gudule?" hesaid, "after a man has been working and slaving the livelong week, don'tyou think he looks forward with longing eyes for his dear children towelcome him at his door?"

At that moment Gudule felt the long latent suspicion revive in her thather husband was not speaking the truth. As if written in characters offire, the words of that letter now came back to her memory; she knew nowwhat was the fate that awaited her and her children. 

Thenceforward, all the characteristic tokens of a gambler's life, allthe vicissitudes which attend his unholy calling, followed close uponeach other in grim succession. Most marked was the disturbance whichhis mental equilibrium was undergoing. Fits of gloomy despondency weresucceeded, with alarming rapidity, by periods of tumultuous exaltation. One moment it would seem as though Gudule and the children were to himthe living embodiment of all that was precious and lovable, whilstat other times he would regard them with sullen indifference. It soonbecame evident to Gudule that her husband's affairs were in a verybad way, for her housekeeping allowance no longer came to her with itswonted regularity. But what grieved and alarmed her most, was the factthat Ascher was openly neglecting every one of his religious duties. Toreturn home late on Friday night, long after sunset had ushered in theSabbath, was now a common practice. Once even it happened, that with hisclothes covered with dust, he came home from one of his business tourson a Sabbath morning, when the people in holiday attire were wendingtheir way to the synagogue. 

Nevertheless, not a sound of complaint escaped Gudule's lips. Hers wasone of those proud, sensitive natures, such as are to be met withamong all classes and amid all circumstances of life, in Ghetto and insecluded village, no less than among the most favored ones of the earth. Had she not cast to the winds the well-intentioned counsel given her inthat unsigned letter? Why then should she complain and lament, now thatthe seed had borne fruit? She shrank from alluding before her husband tothe passion which day by day, nay, hour by hour, tightened its hold uponhim. She would have died sooner than permit the word "gambler" to passher lips. Besides, did not her eyes tell Ascher what she suffered? Thosevery eyes were, according to Ascher, the cause of his rapid journeyalong the road to ruin. 

"Why do you look at me so, Gudule?" he would testily ask her, at theslightest provocation. 

Often when, as he explained, he had had "a specially good week, " hewould bring home the costliest gifts for his children. Gudule, however, made no use whatever of these trinkets, neither for herself nor for thechildren. She put the things away in drawers and cupboards, and neverlooked at them, more especially as she observed that, under some pretextor another, Ascher generally took those glittering things away again, "in order to exchange them for others, " he said: as often as not neverreplacing them at all. 

"Gudule!" he said one day, when he happened to be in a particularly goodhumor, "why do you let the key remain in the door of that bureau whereyou keep so many valuables?"

And again Gudule regarded him with those unfathomable eyes. 

"There, you 're. .. Looking at me again!" he exclaimed with suddenvehemence. 

"They 're safe enough in the cupboard, " Gudule said, smiling, "whyshould I lock it?"

"Gudule, do you mean to say. .. " he cried, raising his hand as for ablow. Then he fell back in his chair, and his frame was shaken withsobs. 

"Gudule, my heart's love, " he cried, "I am not worthy that your eyesshould rest on me. Everywhere, wherever I go, they look at me, thoseeyes. .. And that is my ruin. If business is bad, your eyes ask me, 'Whydid you mix yourself up with these things, without a thought of wifeor children?'. .. Then I feel as if some evil spirit possessed me andtortured my soul. Oh, why can't you look at me again as you did when youwere my bride?--then you looked so happy, so lovely! At other times Ithink: 'I shall yet grasp fortune with both hands. .. And then I can facemy Gudule's eyes again. ' But now, now. .. Oh, don't look at me, Gudule!"

There spoke the self-reproaching voice, which sometimes burst forthunbidden from a suffering soul. 

As for Gudule, she already knew how to appreciate this cry of herhusband's conscience at its true value. It was not that she felt onemoment's doubt as to its sincerity, but she knew that so far as itaffected the future, it was a mere cry and nothing more. 

The years rolled on. The children were growing up. Ephraim had enteredhis fifteenth year. Viola was a little pale girl of twelve. In theopinion of the Ghetto they were the most extraordinary children in theworld. In the midst of the harassing life to which her marriage withthe gambler had brought her, Gudule so reared them that they grew to beliving reflections of her own inmost being. People wondered when theybeheld the strange development of "Wild" Ascher's children. 

Their natures were as proud and reserved as that of their mother. Theydid not associate with the youth of the Ghetto; it seemed as thoughthey were not of their kind, as though an insurmountable barrier dividedthem. And many a bitter sneer was hurled at Gudule's head. 

"Does she imagine, " she often heard people whisper, "that because herfather was a farmer her children are princes? Let her remember that herhusband is but a common gambler. "

How different would have been their thoughts had they known that thechildren were Gudule's sole comfort. What their father had never heardfrom her, she poured into their youthful souls. No tear their mothershed was unobserved by them; they knew when their father had lost, andwhen he had won; they knew, too, all the varying moods of his unhingedmind; and in this terrible school of misery they acquired an instinctiveintelligence, which in the eyes of strangers seemed mere precocity. 

The two children, however, had early given evidence of a markeddifference in disposition. Ephraim's nature was one of an almostfeminine gentleness, whilst Viola was strong-willed and proudlyreserved. 

"Mother, " she said one day, "do you think he will continue to play muchlonger?"

"Viola, how can you talk like that?" Ephraim cried, greatly disturbed. 

Thereupon Viola impetuously flung her arms round her mother's neck, and for some moments she clung to her with all the strength of herpassionate nature. It was as though in that wild embrace she would fainpour forth the long pent-up sorrows of her blighted childhood. 

"Mother!" she cried, "you are so good to him. Never, never shall he havesuch kindness from me!"

"Ephraim, " said Gudule, "speak to your sister. In her sinful anger, Viola would revenge herself upon her own father. Does it so beseem aJewish child?"

"Why does he treat you so cruelly, then?" Viola almost hissed the words. 

Soon after fell the final crushing blow. Ascher had been away from homefor some weeks, when one day Gudule received a letter, dated from aprison in the neighborhood of Vienna. 

In words of genuine sympathy the writer explained that Ascher had beenunfortunate enough to forge the signature to a bill. She would notsee him again for the next five years. God comfort her! The letter wassigned: "A fellow-sufferer with your husband. "

As it had been with her old father, after he had bidden her a lastfarewell, so it was now with Gudule. From that moment her days werenumbered, and although not a murmur escaped her lips, hour by hour shewasted away. 

One Friday evening, shortly after the seven-branched Sabbath lamp hadbeen lit, Gudule, seated in her arm-chair, out of which she had notmoved all day, called the two children to her. A bright smile hoveredaround her lips, an unwonted fire burned in her still beautiful eyes, her bosom heaved. .. In the eyes of her children she seemed strangelychanged. "Children, " said she, "come and stand by me. Ephraim, you standhere on my right, and you, dear Viola, on my left. I would like to tellyou a little story, such as they tell little children to soothe them tosleep. Shall I?"

"Mother!" they both cried, as they bent towards her. 

"You must not interrupt me, children, " she observed, still with thatstrange smile on her lips, "but leave me to tell my little story in myown way. 

"Listen, children, " she resumed, after a brief pause. "Every humanbeing--be he ever so wicked--if he have done but a single good deedon earth, will, when he arrives above, in the seventh heaven, get his_Sechûs_, that is to say, the memory of the good he has done here belowwill be remembered and rewarded bountifully by the Almighty. " Guduleceased speaking. Suddenly a change came over her features: her breathcame and went in labored gasps; but her brown eyes still gleamedbrightly. 

In tones well-nigh inaudible she continued: "When Jerusalem, the HolyCity, was destroyed, the dead rose up out of their graves. .. The holypatriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. .. And also Moses, and Aaron hisbrother. .. And David the King. .. And prostrating themselves before God'sthrone they sobbed: 'Dost Thou not remember the deeds we have done?. .. Wouldst Thou now utterly destroy all these our children, even to theinnocent babe at the breast?' But the Almighty was inexorable. 

"Then Sarah, our mother, approached the Throne. .. When God beheldher, He covered His face, and wept. 'Go, ' said He, 'I cannot listen tothee. '. .. But she exclaimed. .. 'Dost Thou no longer remember the tears Ished before I gave birth to my Joseph and Benjamin. .. And dost Thounot remember the day when they buried me yonder, on the borders of thePromised Land. .. And now, must mine eyes behold the slaughter of mychildren, their disgrace, and their captivity?'. .. Then God cried: 'For_thy_ sake will I remember thy children and spare them. '. .. "

"Would you like to know, " Gudule suddenly cried, with uplifted voice, "what this _Sechûs_ is like? It has the form of an angel, and it standsnear the Throne of the Almighty. .. . But, since the days of Rachel, ourmother, it is the _Sechûs_ of a mother that finds most favor in God'seyes. When a mother dies, her soul straightway soars heavenward, andthere it takes its place amid the others. 

"'Who art thou?' asks God, 'I am the _Sechûs_ of a mother, ' is theanswer, 'of a mother who has left children behind her on earth. ' 'Thendo thou stand here and keep guard over them!' says God. And when it iswell with the children, it is the _Sechûs_ of a mother which has causedthem to prosper, and when evil days befall them. .. It is again the Angelwho stands before God and pleads: 'Dost Thou forget that these childrenno longer have a mother?'. .. And the evil is averted. .. . "

Gudule's voice had sunk to a mere whisper. Her eyes closed, her headfell back, her breathing became slower and more labored. "Are you stillthere, children?" she softly whispered. 

Anxiously they bent over her. Then once again she opened her eyes, "I see you still"--the words came with difficulty from her blanchedlips--"you, Ephraim, and you, my little Viola. .. . I am sure my _Sechûs_will plead for you. .. For you and your father. " They were Gudule's lastwords. When her children, whose eyes had never as yet been confrontedwith Death, called her by her name, covering her icy hands with burningkisses, their mother was no more. .. . 

Who can tell what influence causes the downtrodden blade to raise itselfonce more! Is it the vivifying breath of the west wind, or a mysteriouspower sent forth from the bosom of Mother Earth? It was a touching sightto see how those two children, crushed as they were beneath theweight of a twofold blow, raised their heads again, and in their verydesolation found new-born strength. And it filled the Ghetto withwonder. For what were they but the offspring of a gambler? Or was it thespirit of Gudule, their mother, that lived in them?

After Gudule's death, her eldest brother, the then owner of the grange, came over to discuss the future of his sister's children. He wishedEphraim and Viola to go with him to his home in Lower Bohemia, where hecould find them occupation. The children, however, were opposed to theidea. They had taken no previous counsel together, yet, upon this point, both were in perfect accord, --they would prefer to be left in their oldhome. 

"When father comes back again, " said Eph-raim, "he must know where tofind us. But to you, Uncle Gabriel, he would never come. "

The uncle then insisted that Viola at least should accompany him, for hehad daughters at home whom she could assist in their duties in the houseand on the farm. But the child clung to Ephraim, and with flaming eyes, and in a voice of proud disdain, which filled the simple farmer withsomething like terror, she cried:

"Uncle, you have enough to do to provide for your own daughters; don'tlet _me_ be an additional burden upon you; besides, sooner would Iwander destitute through the world than be separated from my brother. "

"And what do you propose to do then?" exclaimed the uncle, after he hadsomewhat recovered from his astonishment at Viola's vehemence. 

"You see, Uncle Gabriel, " said Ephraim, a sudden flush overspreading hisgrief-stricken features, "you see I have thought about it, and I havecome to the conclusion that this is the best plan. Viola shall keephouse, and I. .. I 'll start a business. "

"_You_ start a business?" cried the uncle with a loud laugh. "Perhapsyou can tell me what price I 'll get for my oats next market day? Abusiness!. .. And _what_ business, my lad?"

"Uncle, " said Ephraim, "if I dispose of all that is left us, I shallhave enough money to buy a small business. Others in our position havedone the same. .. And then. .. "

"Well, and then?" the uncle cried, eagerly anticipating his answer. 

"Then the _Sechûs_ of our mother will come to our aid, " Ephraim saidsoftly. 

The farmer's eyes grew dim with moisture; his sister had been very dearto him. 

"As I live!" he cried, brushing his hand across his eyes, "you are truechildren of my sister Gudule. That's all _I_ can say. "

Then, as though moved by a sudden impulse, he quickly produced, fromthe depths of his overcoat, a heavy pocketbook. "There!". .. He cried, well-nigh out of breath, "there are a hundred gulden for you, Ephraim. With that you can, at all events, make a start; and then you need n'tsell the few things you still have. There. .. Put the money away. .. Oatshave n't fetched any price at all to-day, 't is true; but for the sakeof Gudule's children, I don't mind what I do. .. Come, put it away, Ephraim. .. And may God bless you, and make you prosper. "

"Uncle!" cried Ephraim, as he raised the farmer's hand to his lips, "isall this to be mine? All this?"

"Yes, my boy, yes; it _is_ a deal of money is n't it?". .. Said Gudule'sbrother, accompanying his words with a sounding slap on his massivethigh. "I should rather think it is. With that you can do something, atall events. .. And shall I tell you something? In Bohemia the oat cropis, unfortunately, very bad this season. But in Moravia it's splendid, and is two groats cheaper. .. . So there's your chance, Ephraim, my child;you 've got the money, buy!" All at once a dark cloud overspread hissmiling face. 

"It's a lot of money, Ephraim, that I am giving you. .. Many a merchantcan't lay his hands on it, " he said, hesitatingly; "but if. .. You wereto. .. Gam--"

The word remained unfinished, for upon his arm he suddenly felt asensation as of a sharp, pricking needle. 

"Uncle Gabriel!" cried Viola--for it was she who had gripped hisarm--and the child's cheeks were flaming, whilst her lips curled withscorn, and her white teeth gleamed like those of a beast of prey. "UncleGabriel!" she almost shrieked, "if you don't trust Ephraim, then takeyour money back again. .. It's only because you are our mother's brotherthat we accept it from you at all. .. . Ephraim shall repay you to thelast farthing. .. . Ephraim doesn't gamble. .. You sha 'n't lose a singlepenny of it. "

With a shake of his head the farmer regarded the strange child. He feltsomething like annoyance rise within him; an angry word rose to the lipsof the usually good tempered man. But it remained unsaid; he was unableto remove his eyes from the child's face. 

"As I live, " he muttered, "she has Gudule's very eyes. "

And with another thumping slap on his leg, he merrily exclaimed:

"All right, we'll leave it so then. .. . If Ephraim does n't repay me, I 'll take _you_, you wild thing. .. For you've stood surety for yourbrother, and then I 'll take you away, and keep you with me at home. Doyou agree. .. You little spit-fire, eh?"

"Yes, uncle!" cried Viola. 

"Then give me a kiss, Viola. "

The child hesitated for a moment, then she laid her cheek upon heruncle's face. 

"Ah, now I 've got you, you little spit-fire, " he cried, kissing heragain and again. "Are n't you ashamed now to have snapped your uncle uplike that?"

Then after giving Ephraim some further information about the presentprice of oats, and the future prospects of the crops, with a side-shotat the chances of wool, skins, and other merchandise, he took his leave. 

There was great surprise in the Ghetto when the barely fifteen-year-oldlad made his first start in business. Many made merry over "the greatmerchant, " but before the year was ended, the sharp-seeing eyes of theGhetto saw that Ephraim had "a lucky hand. " Whatever he undertook hefollowed up with a calmness and tact which often baffled the restlessactivity of many a big dealer, with all his cuteness and trickery. Whenever Ephraim, with his pale, sad face, made his appearance at afarmstead, to negotiate for the purchase of wool, or some such matter, it seemed as though some invisible messenger had gone before him tosoften the hearts of the farmers. "No one ever gets things as cheap asyou do, " he was assured by many a farmer's wife, who had been won by theunconscious eloquence of his dark eyes. No longer did people laugh at"the little merchant, " for nothing so quickly kills ridicule as success. 

When, two years later, his Uncle Gabriel came again to see how thechildren were getting on, Ephraim was enabled to repay, in hard cash, the money he had lent him. 

"Oho!" cried Gudule's brother, with big staring eyes, as he clutched hislegs with both hands, "how have you managed in so short a time to saveso much? D' ye know that that 's a great deal of money?"

"I 've had good luck, uncle, " said Ephraim, modestly. 

"You 've been. .. Playing, perhaps?"

The words fell bluntly from the rough countryman, but hardly had theybeen uttered, when Viola sprang from her chair, as though an adder hadstung her. "Uncle, " she cried, and a small fist hovered before Gabriel'seyes in such a threatening manner that he involuntarily closed them. Butthe child, whose features reminded him so strongly of his dead sister, could not make him angry. 

"Ephraim, " he exclaimed, in a jocund tone, warding off Viola with hishands, "you take my advice. Take this little spit-fire with you intothe village one day. .. They may want a young she-wolf there. " Then hepocketed the money. 

"Well, Ephraim, " said he, "may God bless you, and grant you furtherluck. But you won't blame me if I take the money, --I can do with it, andin oats, as you know, there's some chance of good business just now. ButI am glad to see that you 're so prompt at paying. Never give too muchcredit! That 's always my motto; trust means ruin, and eats up a man'sbusiness, as rats devour the contents of a corn-barn. "

There was but one thing that constantly threw its dark shadow acrossthese two budding lives, --it was the dark figure in a distant prison. This it was that saddened the souls of the two children with a gloomwhich no sunshine could dispel. When on Fridays Ephraim returned, fatigued and weary from his work, to the home over which Viola presidedwith such pathetic housewifely care, no smile of welcome was on herface, no greeting on his. Ephraim, 't is true, told his sister where hehad been, and what he had done, but in the simplest words there vibratedthat tone of unutterable sadness which has its constant dwelling-placein such sorely-tried hearts. 

Meanwhile, a great change had come over Viola. Nature continues herprocesses of growth and development 'mid the tempests of human grief, and often the fiercer the storm the more beautiful the after effects. Viola was no longer the pale child, "the little spit-fire, " by whom herUncle Gabriel's arm had been seized in such a violent grip. A womanlygentleness had come over her whole being, and already voices were heardin the _Ghetto_ praising her grace and beauty, which surpassed even theloveliness of her dead mother in her happiest days. Many an admiringeye dwelt upon the beautiful girl, many a longing glance was cast in thedirection of the little house, where she dwelt with her brother. Butthe daughter of a "gambler, " the child of a man who was undergoingimprisonment for the indulgence of his shameful vice! That was a picturefrom which many an admirer shrank with horror!

One day Ephraim brought home a young canary for his sister. When hehanded her the bird in its little gilt cage, her joy knew no bounds, andshowering kisses by turns upon her brother, and on the wire-work of thecage, her eyes sparkling with animation:

"You shall see, Ephraim, how I 'll teach the little bird to speak, " shecried. 

The softening influence which had, during the last few months, come overhis sister's nature was truly a matter of wonder to Ephraim. Humblyand submissively she accepted the slightest suggestion on his part, asthough it were a command. He was to her a father and mother, and neverwere parents more implicitly obeyed by a child than this brother by asister but three years his junior. 

There was one subject, however, upon which Ephraim found his sisterimplacable and firm--their absent father, the mere mention of whose namemade her tremble. Then there returned that haughty curl of the lips, andall the other symptoms of a proud, inflexible spirit It was evident thatViola hated the man to whom she owed her existence. 

Thus had it come about that Ephraim was almost afraid to pronounce hisfather's name. Neither did he care to allude to their mother beforeViola, for the memory of her death was too closely bound up with thatdark form behind the distant prison walls. 

Let us now return to the night on which Ephraim opened the door to hisfather. How had it come about? A thousand times Ephraim had thoughtabout his father's return--and now he durst not even kindle a light, tolook upon the long-estranged face. As silent as when he had come, Ascherremained during the rest of the night; he had seated himself at thewindow, and his arm was resting upon the very spot where formerly thecage had stood. The bird had obtained its freedom, and was, no doubt, bythis time asleep, nestling amid the breeze-swept foliage of some woodedglen. _He_ too had regained his liberty, but no sleep closed his eyes, and yet he was in safe shelter, in the house of his children. 

At length the day began to break. The sun was still hiding behind themountain-tops, but its earliest rays were already reflected upon thewindow-panes. In the _Ghetto_ footsteps became audible; here and therethe grating noise of an opening street-door was heard, while from roundthe corner resounded, ever and anon, the hammer of the watchman, callingthe people to morning service; for it was a Fast-day, which commenced atsunrise. 

At that moment Ascher raised himself from his chair, and quickly turnedaway from the window. Ephraim was already by his side. "Father, dearfather!" he cried from the inmost depths of his heart, as he tried tograsp the hand of the convict. 

"Don't make such a noise, " said the latter, casting a furtive glance inthe direction of the window, and speaking in the same mysterious whisperin which he had asked for admittance into the house. 

What a strange awakening it was to his son, when, in the graytwilight of the breaking day, he looked at Ascher more closely. In hisimagination Ephraim had pictured a wan, grief-worn figure, and now hesaw before him a strong, well-built man, who certainly did not presentthe appearance of a person who had just emerged from the dank atmosphereof a prison! On the contrary, he seemed stronger and more vigorous thanhe had appeared in his best days. 

"Has he had such a good time of it. .. ?" Ephraim felt compelled to askhimself. .. "how different our poor mother looked!"

With a violent effort he repressed the feelings which swelled his bosom. "Dear father, " he said, with tears in his eyes, "make yourself quitecomfortable; you have n't closed your eyes the whole night, you must beworn out. You are at home, remember. .. Father!"

"It's all right, " said Ascher, with a deprecating gesture, "_we_ fellowsknow other ways of spending the night. "

"_We fellows!_" The words cut Ephraim to the heart. 

"But you may be taken ill, father, " he timidly observed. 

"I taken ill! What do you take me for?" Ascher laughed, boisterously. "Ihave n't the slightest intention of failing ill. "

At that moment the watchman was heard hammering at the door of the nexthouse. The reverberating blows seemed to have a strangely disquietingeffect upon the strong man; a violent tremor seized him; he cast one ofthe frightened glances which Ephraim had noticed before in the directionof the window, then with one bound he was at the door, and swiftlyturned the knob. 

"Father, what 's the matter?" Ephraim cried, much alarmed. 

"Does the watchman look into the room when he passes by?" asked Ascher, while his eyes almost burst from their sockets, with the intent-ness oftheir gaze. 

"Never, " Ephraim assured him. 

"Let me see, wait. .. " whispered Ascher. 

The three well-known knocks now resounded upon their own door, then theshadow of a passing figure was thrown upon the opposite wall. With asigh of relief, the words escaped Ascher's bosom:

"He did not look inside. .. " he muttered to himself. 

Then he removed his hand from the door-knob, came back into the centreof the room, and approaching the table, rested his hand upon it. 

"Ephraim. .. " he said after a while, in that suppressed tone which seemedto be peculiar to him, "are n't you going to synagogue?"

"No, father, " replied Ephraim, "I 'm not going to-day. "

"But they 'll want to know, " Ascher observed, and at the words an uglysneer curled the corners of his lip; "they 'll want to know who yourguest is. Why don't you go and tell them?"

"Father!" cried Ephraim. 

"Then be good enough to draw down the blinds. .. . What business is it oftheirs who your guest is? Let them attend to their own affairs. .. . Butthey would n't be of 'the chosen race' if they did n't want to know whatwas taking place in the furthermost corner of your brain. You can't betoo careful with them. .. You 're never secure against their far-scentingnoses and their sharp, searching eyes. "

It was now broad daylight. Ephraim drew down the blinds. 

"The blinds are too white. .. " Ascher muttered, and moving a chairforward, he sat down upon it with his back to the window. 

Ephraim proceeded to wind the phylacteries round his arm, and commencedto say his prayers softly. 

His devotions over, he hurriedly took the phylacteries from his head andhand. 

Ascher was still sitting immovable, his back to the window, his eyesfixed upon the door. 

"Why don't you ask me where I 've left my luggage?" he suddenly cried. 

"I 'll fetch it myself if you 'll tell me where it is, " Ephraimremarked, in all simplicity. 

"Upon my word, you make me laugh, " cried Ascher, and a laugh like thatof delirium burst from his lips. "All I can say, Ephraim, is, the mostpowerful giant upon earth would break his back beneath the weight of myluggage!"

Then only did Ephraim grasp his father's meaning. 

"Don't worry yourself, father. .. " he said lovingly. 

"Would you like to support me, perhaps!" Ascher shouted, with cuttingdisdain. 

Ephraim's heart almost ceased to beat. Then movements were heard in theadjoining room. 

"Have you any one with you?" cried Ascher, springing up. His sharp earshad instantly caught the sounds, and again the strong man was seizedwith violent trembling. 

"Father, it's only dear Viola, " said Ephraim. 

A nameless terror seemed to have over-powered Ascher. With one handconvulsively clenched upon the arm of the chair, and the other pressedto his temple, he sat breathing heavily. Ephraim observed with alarmwhat a terrible change had come over his father's features during thelast few seconds: his face had become ashen white, his eyes had losttheir lustre, he seemed to have aged ten years. 

The door opened, and Viola entered. 

"Viola!" cried Ephraim, "here is our--"

"Welcome!" said the girl, in a low voice, as she approached a few stepsnearer. She extended her hand towards him, but her eyes were cast down. She stood still for a moment, then, with a hurried movement, turnedaway. 

"Gudule!" cried Ascher, horror-stricken, as he fell back almostsenseless in his chair. 

Was it the glamour of her maiden beauty that had so overpowered thisunhappy father? Or was it the extraordinary resemblance she bore to thewoman who had so loved him, and whose heart he had broken? The utteranceof her name, the terror that accompanied the exclamation, denoted theeffect which the girl's sudden appearance had produced upon that sadlyunhinged mind. 

"Viola!" Ephraim cried, in a sorrow-stricken voice, "why don't you comehere?"

"I _can't_, Ephraim, I _can't_. .. " she moaned, as, with halting steps, she walked towards the door. 

"Come, speak to him, do, " Ephraim entreated, taking her hand in his. 

"Let me go!" she cried, trying to release herself. .. . "I am thinking ofmother!"

Suddenly Ascher rose. 

"Where's my stick?" he cried. "I want the stick which I brought withme. .. . Where is it? I must go. "

"Father, you won't. .. " cried Ephraim. 

Then Viola turned round. 

"Father, " she said, with twitching lips. .. "you'll want something to eatbefore you go. "

"Yes, yes, let me have something to eat, " he shouted, as he brought hisfist down upon the table. "Bring me wine. .. And let it be good. .. I amthirsty enough to drink the river dry. .. . Wine, and beer, and anythingelse you can find, bring all here, and then, when I 've had my fill, I'll go. "

"Go, Viola, " Ephraim whispered in his sister's ear, "and bring him allhe asks for. "

When Viola had left the room, Ascher appeared to grow calmer. He satdown again leaning his arms upon the table. 

"Yes, " he muttered to himself: "I 'll taste food with my children, before I take up my stick and go. .. . They say it's lucky to have thefirst drink of the day served by one's own child. .. And luck I _will_have again, at any price. .. What good children! While I 've beenanything but a good father to them, they run hither and thither and takethe trouble to get me food and drink, and I, I 've brought them homenothing but a wooden stick. But I 'll repay them, so help me God, I 'llmake them rich yet, but I 've got nothing but a wooden stick, and I wantmoney, no play without money, and no luck either. .. . "

Gradually a certain thoughtfulness overspread Ascher's agitatedfeatures, his lips were tightly compressed, deep furrows lined hisforehead, while his eyes were fixed in a stony glare, as if upon somedistant object. In the meantime Ephraim had remained standing almostmotionless, and it was evident that his presence in the room had quiteescaped his father's observation. With a chilling shudder runningthrough his frame, his hair on end with horror, he listened to thestrange soliloquy!. .. Then he saw his father's eyes travelling slowly inthe direction of the old bureau in the corner, and there they remainedfixed. "Why does he leave the key in the door, I wonder, " he heard himmutter between his teeth, "just as Gudule used to do; I must tell himwhen he comes back, keys should n't be left in doors, never, under anycircumstances. " The entrance of Viola interrupted the old gambler'saudible train of thought. 

Ephraim gave a gasp of relief. 

"Ah, what have you brought me?" cried Ascher, and his eyes sparkledwith animation, as Viola produced some bottles from under her apron, andplaced them and some glasses upon the table. 

"Now then, fill up the glass, " he shouted, in a commanding voice, "andtake care that you don't spill any, or you 'll spoil my luck. "

With trembling hand Viola did as she was bidden, without spilling asingle drop. Then he took up the glass and drained it at one draught. His face flushed a bright crimson: he poured himself out another glass. 

"Are n't you drinking, Ephraim?" he exclaimed, after he had finishedthat glass also. 

"I don't drink to-day, father, " Ephraim faltered, "it's a fast. "

"A fast? What fast? I have been fasting too, " he continued, with acoarse laugh, "twice a week, on bread and water; an excellent thing forthe stomach. Fancy, a fast-day in midsummer. On such a long day, whenthe sun is up at three already, and at eight o'clock at night is stillhesitating whether he 'll go to bed or not. .. What have I got to do withyour Fast-day?"

His face grew redder every moment; he had drunk a third and a fourthglass, and there was nothing but a mere drain left in the bottle. Already his utterance was thick and incoherent, and his eyes werefast assuming that glassy brightness that is usually the forerunner ofhelpless intoxication. It was a sight Ephraim could not bear to see. Impelled by that natural, almost holy shame which prompted the son ofNoah to cover the nakedness of his father, he motioned to his sister toleave. Then _he_, too, softly walked out of the room. 

Outside, in the corridor, the brother and sister fell into each other'sarms. Both wept bitterly: for a long time neither of them could findwords in which to express the grief which filled their souls. At lengthViola, her head resting upon Ephraim's shoulder, whispered: "Ephraim, what do you think of him?"

"He is ill, I think. .. " said Ephraim, in a voice choked with sobs. 

"What, you call _that_ illness, Ephraim?" Viola cried; "if that'sillness, then a wild beast is ill too. "

"Viola, for Heaven's sake, be quiet: he 's our own father after all!"

"Ephraim!" said the girl, with a violent outburst of emotion, as sheagain threw herself into her brother's arms. .. "just think if mother hadlived to see this!"

"Don't, don't, Viola, my sweet!" Ephraim exclaimed, sobbingconvulsively. 

"Ephraim!" the girl cried, shaking her head in wild despair, "I don'tbelieve in the _Sechûs!_ When we live to see all this, and our hearts donot break, we lose faith in everything. .. . Ephraim, what is to become ofus?"

"Hush, dear Viola, hush, you don't know what you are saying, " repliedEphraim, "I believe in it, because mother herself told us. .. You mustbelieve in it too. "

But Viola again shook her head. "I don't believe in it any longer, " shemoaned, "I can't. "

Noiselessly, Ephraim walked toward the door of the front room; he placedhis ear against the keyhole, and listened. Within all was silent. Afresh terror seized him. Why was no sound to be heard?. .. He opened thedoor cautiously lest it should creak. There sat his father asleep inthe arm-chair, his head bent on his bosom, his arms hanging limp by hisside. 

"Hush, Viola, " he whispered, closing the door as cautiously as he hadopened it, "he is asleep. .. . I think it will do him good. Be careful thatyou make no noise. "

Viola had seated herself upon a block of wood outside the kitchen door, and was sobbing silently. In the meantime, Ephraim, unable to find aword of solace for his sister, went and stood at the street door, sothat no unbidden guest should come to disturb his father's slumbers. It was mid-day; from the church hard by streamed the peasants and theirwives in their Sunday attire, and many bestowed a friendly smile uponthe well-known youth. But he could only nod his head in return, hisheart was sore oppressed, and a smile at such a moment seemed to himnothing short of sin. He went back into the house, and listened at thedoor of the room. Silence still reigned unbroken, and with noiselesssteps he again walked away. 

"He is still sleeping, " he whispered to his sister. "Just think whatwould have happened if we had still had that bird. .. . He would n't havebeen able to sleep a wink. "

"Ephraim, why do you remind me of it?" cried Viola with a fresh outburstof tears. "Where is the little bird now, I wonder?. .. "

Ephraim sat down beside his sister, and took her hand in his. Thus theyremained seated for some time, unable to find a word of comfort for eachother. 

At length movements were heard. Ephraim sprang to his feet and once moreapproached the door to listen. 

"He is awake!" he softly said to Viola, and slowly opening the door, heentered the room. 

Ascher was walking up and down with heavy tread. 

"Do you feel refreshed after your sleep, father?" Ephraim asked timidly. 

Ascher stood still, and confronted his son. His face was still veryflushed, but his eyes had lost their glassy stare; his glance was clearand steady. 

"Ephraim, my son, " he began, in a kindly, almost cheerful tone, "you 'vegrown into a splendid business man, as good a business man as one canmeet with between this and Vienna. I 'm sure of it. But I must give youone bit of advice; it 's worth a hundred pounds to one in your position. Never leave a key in the lock of a bureau!"

Ephraim looked at his father as though stupefied. Was the man mad ordelirious to talk in such a strain? At that moment, from the extreme endof the _Ghetto_, there sounded the three knocks, summoning the people toevening prayer. As in the morning, so again now the sound seemed to stunthe vigorous man. His face blanched and assumed an expression of terror;he trembled from head to foot. Then again he cast a frightened glance inthe direction of the window. 

"Nothing but knocking, knocking!" he muttered. "They would like to knockthe most hidden thoughts out of one's brains, if they only could. Whatmakes them do it, I should like to know?. .. To the clanging of a bellyou can, at all events, shut your ears, you need only place your handsto them. .. But with that hammer they bang at every confounded door, anddrive one crazy. Who gives them the right to do it, I should like toknow?" He stood still listening. 

"Do you think he will be long before he reaches here?" he asked Ephraim, in a frightened voice. 

"Who, father?"

"The watch. "

"He has already knocked next door but one. "

Another minute, and the three strokes sounded on the door of the house. Ascher heaved a sigh of relief; he rubbed his hand across his forehead;it was wet with perspiration. 

"Thank God!" he cried, as though addressing himself, "that 's over, andwon't come again till to-morrow. "

"Ephraim, my son!" he cried, with a sudden outburst of cheerfulness, accompanying the words with a thundering bang upon the table, "Ephraim, my son, you shall soon see what sort of a father you have. Now, you 'recontinually worrying your brains, walking your feet off, trying to get askin, or praying some fool of a peasant to be good enough to sell youa bit of wool. Ephraim, my son, all that shall soon be changed, takemy word for it. I 'll make you rich, and as for Viola, I 'll get her ahusband--such a husband that all the girls in Bohemia will turn greenand yellow with envy. .. . Ascher's daughter shall have as rich a dowry asthe daughter of a Rothschild. .. . But there 's one thing, and one thingonly, that I need, and then all will happen as I promise, in one night. "

"And what is that, father!" asked Ephraim, with a slight shudder. 

"Luck, luck, Ephraim, my son!" he shouted. "What is a man without luck?Put a man who has no luck in a chest full of gold; cover him with goldfrom head to foot; when he crawls out of it, and you search his pockets, you 'll find the gold has turned to copper. "

"And will you have luck, father?" asked Ephraim. 

"Ephraim, my son!" said the old gambler, With a cunning smile, "I 'lltell you something. There are persons whose whole powers are devoted toone object--how to win a fortune; in the same way as there are somewho study to become doctors, and the like, so these study what we callluck. .. And from them I 've learned it. "

He checked himself in sudden alarm lest he might have said too much, andlooked searchingly at his son. A pure soul shone through Ephraim's opencountenance, and showed his father that his real meaning had not beengrasped. 

"Never mind, " he shouted loudly, waving his arms in the air, "what is tocome no man can stop. Give me something to drink, Ephraim. "

"Father, " the latter faltered, "don't you think it will harm you?"

"Don't be a fool, Ephraim!" cried Ascher, "you don't know myconstitution. Besides, did n't you say that to-day was a fast, when itis forbidden to eat anything? And have I asked you for any food? Butas for drink, that's quite another thing! The birds of the air can't dowithout it, much less man!"

Ephraim saw that for that evening, at all events, it would not do tooppose his father. He walked into the kitchen where Viola was preparingsupper, or rather breakfast, for after the fast this was the first mealof the day. 

"Viola, " he said, "make haste and fetch some fresh wine. "

"For him?" cried Viola, pointing her finger almost threateningly in thedirection of the sitting-room door. 

"Don't, don't, Viola!" Ephraim implored. 

"And you are fasting!" she said. 

"Am I not also fasting for him?" said Ephraim. 

With a full bottle in his hand Ephraim once more entered the room. Heplaced the wine upon the table, where the glasses from which Ascher haddrunk in the morning were still standing. 

"Where is Viola?" asked Ascher, who was again pacing the room with firmsteps. 

"She is busy cooking. "

"Tell her she shall have a husband, and a dowry that will make half thegirls in Bohemia turn green and yellow with envy. "

Then he approached the table, and drank three brimming glasses, oneafter the other. "Now then, " he said, as with his whole weight hedropped into the old arm-chair. .. . "Now I 'll have a good night's rest. I need strength and sharp eyes, and they are things which only sleepcan give. Ephraim, my son, " he continued after a while in thick, haltingaccents. .. "tell the watch--Simon is his name, I think--he can give sixknocks instead of three upon the door, in the morning, he won't disturbme. .. And to Viola you can say I 'll find her a husband, handsomer thanher eyes have ever beheld, and tell her on her wedding-day she shallwear pearls round her neck like those of a queen--no, no, like those ofGudule, her mother. " A few moments later he was sound asleep. 

It was the dead of night. All round reigned stillness and peace, thepeace of night! What a gentle sound those words convey, a sound akinonly to the word _home!_ Fraught, like it, with sweetest balm, afragrant flower from long-lost paradise. Thou art at rest, Ascher, and in safe shelter; the breathing of thy children is so restful, sotranquil. .. . 

Desist! desist! 'T is too late. Side by side with the peace of night, there dwell Spirits of Evil, the never-resting, vagrant, home-destroyingguests, who enter unbidden into the human soul! Hark, the rustling oftheir raven-hued plumage! They take wing, they fly aloft; 't is theshriek of the vulture, swooping down upon the guileless dove. 

Is there no eye to watch thee? Doth not thine own kin see thy fouldeeds?

Desist!

'T is too late. .. . 

Open is the window, no grating noise has accompanied the unbolting ofthe shutter. .. . The evil spirits have taken care that the faintest soundshall die away. .. Even the rough iron obeys their voices. .. It is theywho have bidden: "Be silent; betray him not; he is one of us. "

Even the key in the door of the old bureau is turned lightly and withoutnoise. Groping fingers are searching for a bulky volume. Have they foundit? Is there none there to cry in a voice of thunder: "Cursed be thefather who stretches forth his desecrating hand towards the things thatare his children's"?. .. 

They _have_ found it, the greedy fingers! and now, but a spring throughthe open window, and out into the night. .. . 

At that moment a sudden ray of light shines through a crack in the doorof the room. .. . Swiftly the door opens, a girlish figure appears on thethreshold, a lighted lamp in her hand. . . . 

"Gudule!" he shrieks, horror-stricken, and falls senseless at her feet. 

Ascher was saved. The terrible blow which had struck him down had notcrushed the life from him. He was awakened. But when, after four weeksof gruesome fever and delirium, his mind had somewhat regained itsequilibrium, his hair had turned white as snow, and his children beheldan old, decrepit man. 

That which Viola had denied her father when he returned to them in allthe vigor of his manhood, she now lavished upon him in his suffering andhelplessness, with that concentrated power of love, the source of whichis not human, but Divine. In the space of one night of terror, themerest bud of yesterday had suddenly blossomed forth into a flower ofrarest beauty. Never did gentler hands cool a fever-heated brow, never did sweeter voice mingle its melody with the gruesome dreams ofdelirium. 

On his sick-bed, lovingly tended by Ephraim and Viola, an ennoblinginfluence gradually came over the heart of the old gambler, and sodeeply touched it, that calm peace crowned his closing days. It wasstrange that the events of that memorable night, and the vicissitudesthat had preceded it, had left no recollection behind, and his childrentook good care not to re-awaken, by the slightest hint, his sleepingmemory. 

A carriage drew up one day in front of Ascher's house. There hasevidently been a splendid crop of oats this year. Uncle Gabriel hascome. Uncle Gabriel has only lately assumed the additional character offather-in-law to Ephraim, for he declared that none but Eph-raim shouldbe his pet daughter's husband. And now he has come for the purpose ofhaving a confidential chat with Viola. There he sits, the kind-hearted, simple-minded man, every line of his honest face eloquent withgood-humor and happiness, still guilty of an occasional violentonslaught upon his thighs. Viola still remains his "little spit-fire. "

"Now, Viola, my little spit-fire, " said he, "won't you yet allow meto talk to my Nathan about you? Upon my word, the boy can't bear thesuspense any longer. "

"Uncle, " says Viola, and a crimson blush dyes her pale cheeks: "Uncle, "she repeats, in a tone of such deep earnestness, that the laughingexpression upon Gabriel's face instantly vanishes, "please don't talk tohim at all. My place is with my father!"

And to all appearances Viola will keep her word. 

Had she taken upon herself a voluntary penance for having, in herheart's bitter despair, presumed to abjure her faith in the _Sechûs_of her mother? Or was there yet another reason? The heart of woman is astrangely sensitive thing. It loves not to build its happiness upon thehidden ruins of another's life.