said, 'my memory will protect you both, yea, and your father too.'
Viola, have you forgotten?"

Had you entered that little room an hour later, a touching sight would
have met your eyes. Viola was seated on her brother's knee, her arms
round his neck, whilst Ephraim with the gentle love of a brother for a
younger sister, was stroking her hair, and whispering in her ear sweet
words of solace.

The bird-cage was empty. ... That evening Ephraim sat up till midnight.
Outside in the Ghetto reigned the stillness of night.

All at once Ephraim rose from his chair, walked to the old bureau which
stood near the door, opened it, and took from it a bulky volume, which
he laid upon the table in front of him. But he did not seem at all bent
upon reading. He began fingering the pages, until he came upon a bundle
of bank-notes, and these he proceeded to count, with a whispering
movement of his lips. He had but three or four more notes still to
count, when his sharp ear detected the sound of stealthy footsteps, in
the little courtyard in front of the house. Closing the book, and
hastily putting it back again in the old bureau, Ephraim sprang to the
window and opened it.

"Is that you, father?" he cried.

There was no answer.

Ephraim repeated his question.

He strained his eyes, peering into the dense darkness, but no living