‘I have a son like you’, he said, tearfully.
He then breathed heavily and nervously, and added reflectively, ‘Like you, my boy, yes!’
The master of the house caught the merchant by his elbow, pulled him close to himself, and whispered into his ear:
‘Hush! They might hear us!’
There they stood, expectant. Now and then, a rustling; an even, sleepless breathing could be heard. The brain cannot familiarize itself with these sounds in the darkness and silence. Perhaps they were asleep, none could tell.
At night—it must have been late at night—another two stole in quietly.
‘Is it you?’ asked one of them, without seeing anybody, and the sudden sound of his voice seemed to light up the darkness for a moment.
‘Yes’, answered the schoolboy. ‘It’s all right!’
‘Hush! They might hear you’, said the owner of the cellar, catching each of them by the arm and pulling them down.
The new-comers placed themselves by the wall, while one of them was rubbing his forehead with his hand.