A Ghetto Violet | Page 2

herself from her
brother's arms.
"He has had his punishment, dear Viola!" said Ephraim softly.
Viola turned away. There was a painful silence, and then she looked up
at her brother again. Her face was aglow, her eyes sparkled with a
strange fire; she was trembling with agitation.
Never before had Ephraim seen her thus.
"Ephraim, my brother," she commenced, in that measured monotone so
peculiar 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 as for
him, I 'll never look in his face again, from me he shall not have a 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?" said Ephraim
in a tremulous voice.
"When a child has good cause to be ashamed of her own father!" cried
Viola.
"Oh, my Viola, you must have forgotten dear mother's dying words.
Don't you remember, as she opened her eyes for the last time, how she
gathered up 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 would
have met your eyes. Viola was seated on her brother's knee, her arms
round his neck, whilst Ephraim with the gentle love of a brother for a
younger sister, was stroking her hair, and whispering in her ear sweet
words 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
which stood near the door, opened it, and took from it a bulky volume,
which he laid upon the table in front of him. But he did not seem at all
bent upon reading. He began fingering the pages, until he came upon a
bundle of bank-notes, and these he proceeded to count, with a
whispering movement of his lips. He had but three or four more notes
still to count, when his sharp ear detected the sound of stealthy
footsteps, in the little courtyard in front of the house. Closing the book,
and hastily putting it back again in the old bureau, Ephraim sprang to
the window 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 living
thing could he see. Then quite close to him a voice cried: "Make no
noise... 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, with
almost inaudible step, he walked out of the room into the dark passage;
noiselessly he proceeded to unbolt the street-door. Almost at the same
moment a heavy hand clasped his own.
"Father, father!" Ephraim cried, trying to raise his parent's hand to his
lips.
"Make no noise," the man repeated, in a somewhat commanding tone.
With his father's hand in his, cautiously feeling his way, Ephraim led
him into the room. In the room adjoining lay Viola, sleeping
peacefully....
Time was when "Wild" Ascher's welcome home had been far otherwise.
Eighteen years before, upon that very threshold which he now crossed
with halting, stealthy steps, as of a thief in the night, stood a fair and
loving wife, holding a sturdy lad aloft in her arms, so that the father
might at once see, as he turned the street corner, that wife and child
were well and happy. Not another Ghetto in all Bohemia could show a
handsomer and happier couple than Ascher and his wife. "Wild"
Ascher was one of those intrepid, venturesome spirits, to whom no
obstacle is so great that it cannot be surmounted. And the success
which crowned his long, persistent wooing was often cited as striking
testimony to his indomitable will. Gudule was famous throughout the
Ghetto as "the girl with the wonderful eyes," eyes--so the saying
ran--into which no man could look and think of evil. During the earlier
years of their married life those unfathomable brown eyes exercised on
Ascher the full power of their fascination. A time came, however, when
he alleged that those very eyes had been the cause of all his ruin.

Gudule's birthplace was far removed from the Ghetto, where Ascher
had first seen the light. Her father was a wealthy farmer in a secluded
village in Lower Bohemia. But distant though