"God of Abraham, he is here!"
With a trembling hand he pushed back the bolt and clasped his son, who was just entering, in his arms.
"Here he is! Here he is! My son, the son of my wife! Well, Moses, speak, how did it go?"
Moses' face showed not a sign of change, he appeared cold, as always, and calmly he held out his certificate to his father.
"I knew that they would have to write what they have written. They probably made faces over it but they had to give me the first place. Come now! Don't be ridiculous, Father; don't go mad, Esther. Oh say, how they would like to have put that sentimental Hans over there ahead of me, but they couldn't manage it; I knew it. By all the silly gods, Father, what have you been doing this morning? Gold? Gold and no end of it? What's that? What does that mean? Great God, where——"
He broke off and bent over the table. That was a sight that entirely destroyed his accustomed self-control, at least for a time.
"Yours! Yours! It is all yours!" cried his father. "I told you that I would do my part if you did yours at the table there. That is not all! Here! Here!"
The old man had rushed to the closet again and threw a few more jingling bags on the black floor and a few more bundles of securities on the table. His eyes glowed as with fever.
"You are equipped and armed, now raise your head. Eat when you are hungry and reach out for everything that you desire. They will bring it to you if you are wise; you will become a great man among the strangers! Be wise on your way! Don't stand still, don't stand still, don't stand still!"
The hanging globe in the house opposite reflected Samuel Freudenstein as he hurried out, tore the Westphalian body-servant from his hook and buried him in the depths of the shop; thus he closed his business for ever,—the lackey had served as a sign for many things which had really nothing to do with junk-dealing; it was not to be regretted that he disappeared from Kröppel Street.