"Let me go!" she cried, trying to release herself. . . ." I am thinking of mother!"
Suddenly Ascher rose.
"Where's my stick?" he cried. "I want the stick which I brought with me. . . . 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 eat before you go."
"Yes, yes, let me have something to eat," he shouted, as he brought his fist down upon the table. "Bring me wine . . . and let it be good . . . I am thirsty enough to drink the river dry. . . . Wine, and beer, and anything else 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 all he asks for."
When Viola had left the room, Ascher appeared to grow calmer. He sat down 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 the first 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 been anything but a good father to them, they run hither and
