Another minute, and the three strokes sounded on the door of the house.
Ascher heaved a sigh of relief; he rubbed his hand across his forehead;
it was wet with perspiration.

"Thank God!" he cried, as though addressing himself, "that's over, and
won't come again till to-morrow."

"Ephraim, my son!" he cried, with a sudden outburst of cheerfulness,
accompanying the words with a thundering bang upon the table, "Ephraim,
my son, you shall soon see what sort of a father you have. Now, you're
continually worrying your brains, walking your feet off, trying to get
a skin, or praying some fool of a peasant to be good enough to sell you
a bit of wool. Ephraim, my son, all that shall soon be changed, take my
word for it. I'll make you rich, and as for Viola, I'll get her a
husband--such a husband that all the girls in Bohemia will turn green
and yellow with envy...Ascher's daughter shall have as rich a dowry as
the daughter of a Rothschild... But there's one thing, and one thing
only, that I need, and then all will happen as I promise, in one night."

"And what is that, father!" asked Ephraim, with a slight shudder.

"Luck, luck, Ephraim, my son!" he shouted. "What is a man without luck?
Put a man who has no luck in a chest full of gold; cover him with gold
from head to foot; when he crawls out of it, and you search his pockets,
you'll find the gold has turned to copper."

"And will you have luck, father?" asked Ephraim.

"Ephraim, my son!" said the old gambler, with a cunning smile, "I'll