He rang; and an old woman, with a torn cap, appeared, who, having heard his request, called out to those within, "Here is one from Ostrau, Itzig Veitel by name, who wishes to speak to Mr.Ehrenthal." A loud voice replied, "Let him wait;" and the clatter of plates showed that the man of business meant to finish his supper before he gave the future _millionnaire_ a hearing.
Accordingly, Veitel sat upon the steps admiring the brass plate and the white door, and wondering how the name of Itzig would look upon just such another.

That led him to reflect how far he was from being as rich as this Hirsch Ehrenthal; and, feeling the half dozen ducats his mother had sewn into his waistcoat, he began to speculate how much he could daily add to them, provided the rich man took him into his service.

In the midst of these reflections the door was flung open, and Mr.
Ehrenthal stood before him, no longer the same man we saw in the morning; the deference, the kindness, all were gone.

No Eastern despot so proud and lofty.

Itzig felt his own insignificance, and stood humbly before his master.
"Here is a letter to Baruch Goldmann, in which Mr.Ehrenthal has sent for me," began Veitel.
"I wrote Goldmann word to send you, that I might see whether you would suit; nothing is yet settled," was the dignified reply.
"I came that you might see me, sir." "And why did you come so late, young Itzig?
this is not the time for business." "I wished to show myself to-night, in case, sir, you should have any commission to give me for to-morrow.