The note was not signed: it came from Rosalie.
Sabine knew well who had written it. She held it to the taper, and then flinging it on the hearth, silently watched spark by spark die out. Long did she stand there, her head against the mantel-piece, her eyes fixed upon the little heap of ashes.
Tearless, voiceless, she held her hand pressed firmly on her heart.
Veitel Itzig was in the highest excitement. After many consultations with his adviser Hippus, many nightly calculations as to the state of his purse, he had ventured upon a bold stroke of business, and had succeeded in it. He had wormed himself into a not very creditable secret, and had sold it for eight thousand dollars. The happy day had at length arrived when he was to carry home this large capital. After his long endeavor to appear calm, while his heart was beating with anxious suspense like a smith's hammer, he was now happy as a child; he jumped round the room, laughed with pleasure, and asked Hippus what sort of wine he would like to drink to-day. "Wine alone will not do," replied Hippus, ominously. "However, it is long since I have tasted any Hungarian. Get a bottle of old Upper Hungarian; or, stay, it is dark enough, I will go for it myself."
"That is a good deal, but 'tis all one; here they are;" and he threw them on the table.
"All right," said Hippus, snatching at them. "But this alone will not do, I must have my percentage. However, as we are old acquaintances, I will be satisfied with only five per cent. of what you have made to-day."
"Not a word against it," continued Hippus, with a wicked glance at him over his spectacles; "we know each other. I was the means of your getting the money, and I alone. You make use of me, and you see that I can make use of you. Give me four hundred of your eight thousand at once."
"Not a word," repeated Hippus, rapping the table with the dollars in his hand; "give me the money."
Veitel looked at him, felt in the pocket of his coat, and laid down two notes.
"Now two more," said Hippus, in the same tone. Veitel added another.
"And now for the last, my son," nodded he, encouragingly.
Veitel delayed a moment and looked hard at the old man's face, on which a malevolent pleasure was visible. There was no comfort there, however; so he laid down the fourth note, saying, in a stifled voice, "I have been mistaken in you, Hippus;" and, turning away, he wiped his eyes.
