“Nor twice twenty, neighbour. I wouldn’t, under any circumstances, take less than two hundred pounds for that girl. She has turned out a most valuable servant—”
“Two hunder poundsh!” interrupted the Jew, starting up in his chair. “Och! Mishter Vochan, theresh not a black wench in the island worth half the monish. Two hunder poundsh! Blesh my soul, that ish a prishe! I wish I could shell some of my shtock at that prishe! I’d be glad to give any two I hash for two hunder poundsh.”
“Why, Mr Jessuron! I thought you said just now slaves were getting very dear?”
“Dear, yesh; but that is doublish dear. S’help me gott! You don’t mean it, Mishter Vochan?”
“But I do mean it; and even if you were to offer me two hundred—”
“Don’t shay more about it,” said the slave-merchant, hurriedly interrupting the hypothetical speech; “don’t shay more; I agreesh to give it. Two hunder poundsh!—blesh my shtars! it’ll make a bankrup’ of me.”
“No, it will not do that: since I cannot agree to take it.”
“Not take two hunder poundsh?”
“No—nor twice that sum.”
“Gott help ush, Mishter Vochan; you ish shurely shokin? Why will you not take two hunder? I hash the monish in my pocket.”