“I CAN’T, Ephraim, I CAN’T…” she moaned, as, with halting steps, she walked towards the door.
“Come, speak to him, do,” Ephraim entreated, taking her hand in his.
“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.”