A Ghetto Violet | Page 9

haughty curl of the lips, and all the other symptoms of a proud, inflexible spirit It was evident that Viola hated the man to whom she owed her existence.
Thus had it come about that Ephraim was almost afraid to pronounce his father's name. Neither did he care to allude to their mother before Viola, for the memory of her death was too closely bound up with that dark form behind the distant prison walls.
Let us now return to the night on which Ephraim opened the door to his father. How had it come about? A thousand times Ephraim had thought about his father's return--and now he durst not even kindle a light, to look upon the long-estranged face. As silent as when he had come, Ascher remained during the rest of the night; he had seated himself at the window, and his arm was resting upon the very spot where formerly the cage had stood. The bird had obtained its freedom, and was, no doubt, by this time asleep, nestling amid the breeze-swept foliage of some wooded glen. 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 the mountain-tops, but its earliest rays were already reflected upon the window-panes. In the Ghetto footsteps became audible; here and there the grating noise of an opening street-door was heard, while from round the corner resounded, ever and anon, the hammer of the watchman, calling the people to morning service; for it was a Fast-day, which commenced at sunrise.
At that moment Ascher raised himself from his chair, and quickly turned away from the window. Ephraim was already by his side. "Father, dear father!" he cried from the inmost depths of his heart, as he tried to grasp the hand of the convict.
"Don't make such a noise," said the latter, casting a furtive glance in the direction of the window, and speaking in the same mysterious whisper in which he had asked for admittance into the house.
What a strange awakening it was to his son, when, in the gray twilight of the breaking day, he looked at Ascher more closely. In his imagination Ephraim had pictured a wan, grief-worn figure, and now he saw before him a strong, well-built man, who certainly did not present the appearance of a person who had just emerged from the dank atmosphere of a prison! On the contrary, he seemed stronger and more vigorous than he had appeared in his best days.
"Has he had such a good time of it...?" Ephraim felt compelled to ask himself... "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 quite comfortable; you have n't closed your eyes the whole night, you must be worn out. You are at home, remember... father!"
"It's all right," said Ascher, with a deprecating gesture, "we fellows know 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. "I have n't the slightest intention of failing ill."
At that moment the watchman was heard hammering at the door of the next house. The reverberating blows seemed to have a strangely disquieting effect upon the strong man; a violent tremor seized him; he cast one of the frightened glances which Ephraim had noticed before in the direction of the window, then with one bound he was at the door, and swiftly turned 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 of their gaze.
"Never," Ephraim assured him.
"Let me see, wait..." whispered Ascher.
The three well-known knocks now resounded upon their own door, then the shadow of a passing figure was thrown upon the opposite wall. With a sigh 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 centre of the room, and approaching the table, rested his hand upon it.
"Ephraim..." he said after a while, in that suppressed tone which seemed to 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 ugly sneer curled the corners of his lip; "they 'll want to know who your guest is. Why don't you go and tell them?"
"Father!" cried Ephraim.
"Then be good enough to draw down the blinds.... What business is