Good-night!

[Exit.

Esther.

Good-night!

Rebecca.

Oh, where's my picture of Rafael? [Rosa drops the photograph into the canal.] It's gone!

[She looks about for it.

Esther.

How could it have gone?

[Rebecca sees it in the canal.

Rebecca.

It has fallen into the canal! It's ruined! [Looks at Rosa.] I don't understand. I don't understand!

Esther.

Oh, well; Rafael has some others. I'll see Rafael. Good-night.

Rebecca.

[To Rosa.] If the portrait dropped in where I left it, then it must have floated against the current.

Rosa.

[Fiercely, sotto.] It did go against the current.

[Exit Rebecca.

Sachel.

Not a cent under twelve thousand.

[Rosa, at the bridge, struggles with tears.

Esther.

We shall see!

[Exit.

Sachel.

So we shall. Why doesn't he come? His miserable selfishness. My God, if anything has happened to him! He doesn't come. He might have been set upon and robbed—beaten, killed, by some cursed ruffian beyond the Ghetto. My God—I'm harsh—too harsh with him. I shall be chastened for it. I was harsh to his mother; yes, I know—I know; I broke her heart perhaps, and Rafael, poor boy——[Stops, listens.] His step! Yes; even—steady—he's in no distress. He's not worrying about me. He'll come home to sleep and get more money—that's all. He's a vagabond—a rascally vagabond!

Enter Esther.

Enter Rafael by the bridge.

Rafael.

[Wearily.] Good evening. [No answer.] Good evening! [No answer.]

[He exchanges guarded looks with Rosa. Exit Rosa.

Esther.

[Contemptuously.] The gentleman says "Good evening!" This is his lodging-house, where he does us the honour to sleep!

Rafael.

I know I am rather late. I hope you were not anxious about me, father. Were you? Father! Oh—well!

Esther.

Why should he answer you? What manner of son are you?

Sachel.

Where have you been all day?

Rafael.

I—what does it matter? I know—I promised to do some business for you—but—there were other things—I forgot—I am sorry.

Esther.

Oh, he's sorry.

Sachel.

I asked you where you idled all this day, and you evaded me.

Rafael.

I have been everywhere—and the day vanished while I was thinking. Have you something to eat, aunt?

Sachel.

We have finished eating.

Esther.

At this time of night! H'm!

Rafael.

Very well. I will see what I can find.

Sachel.

Oh, my Maker, how heavily thou visitest upon me! To be thus mocked by a stranger within mine own house! If your poor dead mother knew how you treated me!

Rafael.

Father, the rotten board that marked my mother's grave is falling to pieces. And you can hardly find the spot for weeds—weeds!

Sachel.

Is that where you've been? Where else?

Rafael.

Far away—in my thoughts.

Sachel.

Another day—a whole precious day devoured by your drivelling nonsense! Are you a son? Have you an old blind father? Oh, my business, my splendid business, that I slaved and sweated out my marrow for, dwindling, dwindling with every ticking of the clock! And he wants me to buy a new headboard! I had better buy one for myself. I had better be dead than not, with such a son.

Esther.

Sachel! Sachel! You cry—for a son like that! He is not worth one tear.

Sachel.

God punishes me for all my sins. When he was a child I have stolen the bread from my mouth for him, weeks at a time; and now I may burrow alone in the dark for all he cares, chained to my door-post, chained to wait till some one comes to deal with me—to rob and swindle and mock me—because I am alone—and blind.

Rafael.

And the saddest is, it is not my doing, and I cannot help it.

Sachel.

Not his doing! Oh, my Maker! Can I keep him in irons and make him use his eyes for me?

Rafael.

Father, between us matters cannot be improved—now nor ever!

Esther.

Well, upon my word!

Sachel.

Why not? You have something you dare not tell. There is a woman in it. You had forty guilders when you went away this morning. Have you a cent of it left?

Rafael.

I gave it all to Mordecai to bury his son.

Sachel.

I do not believe it.

Rafael.

Father! For the little time that I remain here need we add more bitterness to what exists?

Sachel.

What do you say?

Rafael.

I am going away.

Sachel.

What—what—what do you say?

Rafael.

I am going away!

Sachel.

Oh, oh, that crowns all! He can look into my dead eyes and threaten this—without a quiver—without a qualm!

Rafael.

Ah, there was a time—there was a time, when I would have yielded any sacrifice for you—when I was a boy and you had just gone blind, and my heart was wrung with a pity for you that was a very pity in itself. If I had seen tears in your poor sightless eyes, then my peace would have been utterly destroyed; at the thought of having vexed you I should have beaten my brow. And now it's gone—gone—and it won't come back—it can't come back—because you robbed me of it.