nk paper! Ain't
you ashamed of yourself, tell me that,--ain't you downright ashamed of
yourself?"

"I tink not; I have no occasions for shame," said the other, calmly.

"Faix! I believe you there," retorted Dalton. "Your line of life doesn't
offer many opportunities of blushing. But if I can't bring you to know
shame, maybe I can teach you to feel sorrow. Our dealing is ended from
this day out. Peter Dalton does n't know you more! He never saw you! he
never heard of your name! D'ye mind me now? None of your boasting among
the English here that you have Mr. Dalton's business. If I hear of
your saying it, it's not a contradiction will satisfy me. Understand
me well--it's not to leave a mark of friendship that I 'll come in here
again!"

The fierce tone in which Dalton said these words, and the gesture he
made with a tremendous walking-stick, were certainly well calculated to
excite Abel's terrors, who, opening a little movable pane of the window,
looked out into the street, to assure himself of succor in case of need.

"What's the use of family, rank, or fortune," cried Dalton, indignantly,
as he paced up and down the little shop, in a perfect frenzy of passion,
"if a little dirty Jew, with a face like a rat-terrier, can insult
you? My uncle is one of the first men in Austria, and my daughter's a
Princess; and there's a creature you would't touch with the tongs has
the impudence to--to--to--" Evidently the precise offence did not at
once occur to Dalton's memory, for after several efforts to round
off his phrase--"to outrage me----to outrage me!" he cried, with the
satisfaction of one who had found a missing object.

Meanwhile Abel, who had gradually resumed his courage, was busily
engaged in some deep and intricate calculations, frequently referring
to a number of ill-scrawled scraps of paper on a file before him, not
heeding, if he heard, the storm around him.

"Dere, saar," said he at length, as he pushed a slip of paper towards
Dalton,--"dere, saar; our affairs is closed, as you say. Dere is your
debit,--eighteen hundred and seventy-three florins, 'convenzion money.'
Dere may be leetle charges to be added for commissions and oder tings;
but dat is de chief sum, which you pay now."

There was a sharp emphasis on the last monosyllable that made Dalton
start.

"I'll look over it; I'll compare it with my books at home," said he,
haughtily, as he stuffed the slip of paper into his waistcoat-pocket.

"Den you no