"Nothing, nothing! Be quiet, Esther; it will pass."
He sat in his chair all morning without moving. His mouth alone moved, but only once did an audible word cross his lips; he wanted them to open the door and the shutters again.
"Why should Esther unlock the house?" asked Moses. "We want to finish our business of yesterday first, and don't need people gaping and listening."
"Be quiet, you are right, my son. It is well, Esther. Take the keys from under my pillow, Moses."
The sand in the hour-glass had run through again; Moses Freudenstein himself had unlocked the closet once more and was looking through the papers. The old man did not move, but he followed his son's every movement with his eyes and now and then started and shivered. Esther had put an old cover about his shoulders; he was like a child that must let everything be done for it.
Moses took out another bag of money; it slipped from his hands and fell ringing on the floor, scattering part of its contents over the room. With the ringing and jingling of the money a scream mingled that froze one's blood.
"Apoplexia spasmodica!" said the doctor fifteen minutes later. "Hm, hm—an unusual case in a man of his constitution!"
THE LETTER CARRIER
Permission Franz Hanfstaengl Karl Spitzweg