At that moment the watchman was heard hammering at the door of the next house. The reverberating blows seemed to have a strangely disquieting effect upon the strong man: a violent tremor seized him; he cast one of the frightened glances which Ephraim had noticed before in the direction of the window, then with one bound he was at the door, and swiftly turned the knob. “Father, what’s the matter?” Ephraim cried, much alarmed. “Does the watchman look into the room when he passes by?” asked Ascher, while his eyes almost burst from their sockets, with the intentness of their gaze. “Never,” Ephraim assured him. “Let me see, wait…” whispered Ascher. The three well-known knocks now resounded upon their own door, then the shadow of a passing figure was thrown upon the opposite wall. With a sigh of relief, the words escaped Ascher’s bosom: “He did not look inside…” he muttered to himself. Then he removed his hand from the door-knob, came back into the centre of the room, and approaching the table, rested his hand upon it. “Ephraim…” he said after a while, in that suppressed tone which seemed to be peculiar to him, “aren’t you going to synagogue?” “No, father,” replied Ephraim, “I’m not going to-day.” “But they’ll want to know,” Ascher observed, and at the words an ugly sneer curled the corners of his lip; “they’ll want to know who your guest is. Why don’t you go and tell them?” “Father!” cried Ephraim. “Then be good enough to draw down the blinds. …What business is it of theirs who your guest is? Let them attend to their own affairs… But they wouldn’t be of ‘the chosen race’ if they didn’t want to know what was taking place in the furthermost corner of your brain. You can’t be too careful with them…you’re never secure against their far-scenting noses and their sharp, searching eyes.” It was now broad daylight. Ephraim drew down the blinds. “The blinds are too white…” Ascher muttered, and moving a chair forward, he sat down upon it with his back to the window. Ephraim proceeded to wind the phylacteries round his arm, and commenced to say his prayers softly. His devotions over, he hurriedly took the phylacteries from his head and hand. Ascher was still sitting immovable, his back to the window, his eyes fixed upon the door. “Why don’t you ask me where I’ve left my luggage?” he suddenly cried. “I’ll fetch it myself if you’ll tell me where it is,” Ephraim remarked, in all simplicity. “Upon my word, you make me laugh,” cried Ascher, and a laugh like that of delirium burst from his lips. “All I can say, Ephraim, is, the most powerful giant upon earth would break his back beneath the weight of my luggage!” Then only did Ephraim grasp his father’s meaning. “Don’t worry yourself, father…” he said lovingly. “Would you like to support me, perhaps!” Ascher shouted, with cutting disdain. Ephraim’s heart almost ceased to beat. Then movements were heard in the adjoining room.