"Could you not wait till I paid you your full ten per cent. for an extension of the loan?" asked the baron, contemptuously.
"I am come," said Pinkus, "to explain that I am suddenly in want of money, and must request you to let me have the principal."
The baron retreated a step. This was the second blow, and it was mortal. His face turned pale yellow, but he began with a hoarse voice to say, "How can you make such a demand, after all that has passed between us? how often have you assured me that this bill of exchange was a mere form!"
"It has been so hitherto," said Pinkus; "now it comes into force. I have ten thousand dollars to pay to-morrow to a creditor of mine."
"Make arrangements with him, then," returned the baron; "I am prepared for a higher rate of interest, but not to pay off the principal."
"Then, baron, I am sorry to tell you that you will be proceeded against."
The baron silently turned away.
"At what hour may I return to-morrow for my money?" inquired Pinkus.
"At about this hour," replied a voice, weak and hollow as that of an old man. Pinkus bobbed again and went away.
The baron tottered back to his sitting-room, where he sank down on the sofa as if paralyzed. Lenore knelt by him, calling him by every tender name, and imploring him to speak. But he neither saw nor heard, and his heart and head beat violently. The fair, many-colored bubble that he had blown had burst now; he knew the fearful truth—he was a ruined man.