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, and won'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're continually worrying your brains, walking your feet off, trying to get a skin, or praying some fool of a peasant to be good enough to sell you a bit of wool. Ephraim, my son, all that shall soon be changed, take my word for it. I'll make you rich, and as for Viola, I'll get her a husband—such a husband that all the girls in Bohemia will turn green and yellow with envy. . . . Ascher's daughter shall have as rich a dowry as the daughter of a Rothschild. . . . But there's one thing, and one thing only, that I need, and then all will happen as I promise, in one night."
