“Then the Sechûs of our mother will come to our aid,” Ephraim said softly.
The farmer's eyes grew dim with moisture; his sister had been very dear to him.
“As I live!” he cried, brushing his hand across his eyes, “you are true children of my sister Gudule. That's all I can say.”
Then, as though moved by a sudden impulse, he quickly produced, from the depths of his overcoat, a heavy pocketbook. “There!”... he cried, well-nigh out of breath, “there are a hundred gulden for you, Ephraim. With that you can, at all events, make a start; and then you need n't sell the few things you still have. There... put the money away... oats have n't fetched any price at all to-day, 't is true; but for the sake of Gudule's children, I don't mind what I do... Come, put it away, Ephraim... and may God bless you, and make you prosper.”
“Uncle!” cried Ephraim, as he raised the farmer's hand to his lips, “is all this to be mine? All this?”
“Yes, my boy, yes; it is a deal of money is n't it?”... said Gudule's brother, accompanying his words with a sounding slap on his massive thigh. “I should rather think it is. With that you can do something, at all events... and shall I tell you something? In Bohemia the oat crop is, unfortunately, very bad this season. But in Moravia it's splendid, and is two groats cheaper.... So there's your chance, Ephraim, my child; you 've got the money, buy!” All at once a dark cloud overspread his smiling face.
“It's a lot of money, Ephraim, that I am giving you... many a merchant can't lay his hands on it,” he said, hesitatingly; “but if... you were to... gam—”
The word remained unfinished, for upon his arm he suddenly felt a sensation as of a sharp, pricking needle.
“Uncle Gabriel!” cried Viola—for it was she who had gripped his arm—and the child's cheeks were flaming, whilst her lips curled with scorn, and her white teeth gleamed like those of a beast of prey. “Uncle Gabriel!” she almost shrieked, “if you don't trust Ephraim, then take your money back again... it's only because you are our mother's brother that we accept it from you at all.... Ephraim shall repay you to the last farthing.... Ephraim doesn't gamble... you sha 'n't lose a single penny of it.”
With a shake of his head the farmer regarded the strange child. He felt something like annoyance rise within him; an angry word rose to the lips of the usually good tempered man. But it remained unsaid; he was unable to remove his eyes from the child's face.