The Merchant of Berlin | Page 7

had no suspicion of the
tumult and pain, the joy and ecstasy which filled his breast. And yet he
had a right to strive for the prize of her love; and if he raised his eyes to
the daughter of his benefactor, it was not presumption, it was
Gotzkowsky himself who emboldened him to do so. He had said to him,
"Seek to win the love of my daughter, and I will cheerfully bid you
welcome as my son, for I know that in your hands Elise's happiness is
safe."
Thus he had the consent of her father, but Elise's love was wanting, and
how could he ever deserve this love, how win this heart which shone as
bright and clear, as hard and cold as rock crystal? Of what avail was it
that he worked indefatigably in the service of his benefactor? how did it
help him that the money, which Gotzkowsky had given to him as a boy,
had borne rich interest and made him a man of means, and even, if he
chose, of independence? What did it profit him that all men loved him,
if this one being, by whom he so ardently longed to be loved, always
remained the same, unchanged toward him, always affectionate and
friendly, always open and candid, never abashed, never blushing, never
casting her eyes down before him?
"It must at last be decided," thought Bertram, as he sat next Elise; "I
must at last know whether she returns my love, or whether that be true
which I have heard whispered since my return. I must at least have
certainty, even if it annihilates all my wishes."
At this moment there sounded near him merry shouts and laughter.
Gotzkowsky had accosted the bridal pair with a jest, and the grateful
audience had taken up this jest with delight.
"Long life to the bridal pair!" cried he, raising his glass on high.
"Health, wealth, and happiness to them!" A perfect uproar followed this
appeal, and brought tears of delight into the eyes of the blushing little
bride, who stood up with the bridegroom and bowed her thanks.
Balthazar laughed, and, as soon as every thing had become quiet,
replied: "There, that will do! you have hurrahed enough. I don't wish

for wealth; health, happiness, and content are enough for me with my
little Gretchen; but for these blessings I have to thank, we have all to
thank, our lord and master, our father Gotzkowsky. Therefore, you
boys up there, stop your clatter and dancing, and listen to what I have
to say to you."
Balthazar's loud clear voice overpowered the music which now ceased,
and the lads and maidens crowded around him.
"Balthazar is going to make a speech!" cried one with hearty laughter,
in which the others joined lustily. "Silence, silence! Balthazar is going
to make a speech. Come, Balthazar, out with it! It's a failing he has."
"Well, why shouldn't I?" said Balthazar, laughing; "many a great lord
does nothing else all his life but make pretty speeches. Why shouldn't I
play the great lord on this my wedding-day?" He drew himself up,
cleared his throat, and continued: "I want to talk to you about our
master, who turned us from good-for-nothing drones into industrious
workmen, who gave us bread when nobody else had bread for us.
Nobody, I say, not even our mayor, who is a very good mayor, but who
cannot help the poor, feed the hungry, and give bread and work to
hands willing to work. Who is able to do that, and who does it? Who in
Berlin is the rich, the good man, who gives work to all, and in his large
and celebrated mills procures us food and wages? Who is it?"
"Gotzkowsky, our father Gotzkowsky!" cried the crowd unanimously.
Balthazar waved his hat joyfully in the air. "Therefore, say I, long live
Gotzkowsky our father!" cried he with stentorian voice. And loud
shouts and cheers followed this appeal. Men and women surrounded
Gotzkowsky and offered him their hand, and thanked him with those
simple and plain words which never fail to reach the heart, because
they come from the heart. All hailed him as friend and father,
benefactor and master. Gotzkowsky stood in their midst, proud and
erect. A deep emotion was evident in his noble features, and he raised
his beaming, radiant face to heaven, thanking God in the humbleness of
his heart for the proud joy of this hour.

"Long live Gotzkowsky, our father!" reiterated the happy multitude.
He lowered his eyes, and glanced with friendly looks at the cheerful
assemblage.
"Thank you, my children," said he, "but I beg you not to overrate my
merits. You are of as much service to me as I am to you. He who gives
work