Dr. Svoboda.—Then I am determined to do that which I have been intending to do only as an extreme measure. I have bank stock in the company “Vulcan” valued at 20,000 florins. I will lose fully half of its value by selling today. Do you wish to offer, Mr. Lewi, 9000 florins for the stock, and meanwhile extend the notes?
Lewi.—Such expensive trappings I do not buy. At the best, I am satisfied to take a quarter-meter to the florin.
Dr. Svoboda (Frightened).—What are you saying?
Lewi (Taking a newspaper from his pocket).—The advertisement of the sale of the Vulcan stock appears in the papers today.
Dr. Svoboda.—That is a lie!
Lewi.—As you please. Such lies the papers do not publish. In these times, the stockholders are dancing tarantellas so wildly that occasionally a dancer strikes his heels together and falls to the ground. That “Vulcan” happens to be the latest, and tomorrow, the day after, other companies will meet with the same fate.
Dr. Svoboda (To himself)—Oh horrors! (Aloud) And why do you refuse to grant me even my insignificant request?
Lewi.—Because I do not know how the notes will be paid later on. And your bare word . . . (With a laugh) even a Jew will not rely upon that today. If your honor has reliable surety of any sort, all may yet be well. If not, I can only express my deep regrets.
Dr. Svoboda.—Mr. Broz! (They walk to the window, standing in a consultation for a few minutes.)
Lewi (Looking about the salon).—If it came to an auction, something might be made on this!
Jaroslav (Expressing his thoughts)—This will help. Father will now be compelled to sell. It looks simple; it may go through. (Quietly to Lewi) A word with you, Mr. Lewi.
Lewi (Quietly)—What is it?
Jaroslav.—I can find a buyer for father’s notes.
Lewi.—When?
Jaroslav.—Yet today.
Lewi.—That would be strange indeed. Who would want them? The roadrunner hovers over the snake, but above a Jew?
Jaroslav.—Only another Jew.
Lewi.—He he!
Jaroslav.—But instead of giving me a commission, you will be good enough to loan me 1000 florins.
