"Speak the word out, Mosey—the whole word!"
"What should I speak out?—which word? What does the gentleman want?"
"Mosey, speak the word out—Geigenfritz!"
"What is your pleasure?—what is the word to me?"
"Old rogue! old Moses Amschel! what is the word to you? what is Geigenfritz to you?—your old friend?"
"I know no Geigenfritz; I know no Moses Amschel. You are mistaken. And now go your ways—do you hear?" He had become quite bold and saucy.
The brown man looked at him with a smile of scornful pity. "Mosey," he said, "shall I reckon up the prisons and houses of correction in which I have seen you? You have grown a great man, it seems. I have heard of you. You are a rich banker: noblemen associate with you, and princes are your debtors. You are a baron, I believe, and you live in luxury; but you are not the less Moses Amschel, my old comrade. I knew you directly, and your rascal of a brother, too, who is outside with the carriage."
The Jew's confidence left him as he listened to this speech. He made one more effort to assume a bold countenance, but his voice trembled as he muttered, "You are mistaken. I have business here: leave me, or I will have you arrested."
Geigenfritz laughed. "You have business here, I doubt not. But arrest me! Your business will hardly bear daylight, and my arrest would interfere with it."