said Bertram, bending over her; "grant her
this short respite, for she has a great sorrow to overcome. When she
comes to herself again, she will love none but you, her father."

Gotzkowsky pressed his lips on her brow, and blessed her in his
thoughts. "She will find in me a father," said he, with deep emotion,
"who, if necessary, can weep with her. My eyes are unused to tears,
but a father may be allowed to weep with his daughter when she is
suffering."

* * * * *

CHAPTER XVII.

THE BANQUET OF GRATITUDE.

Berlin had recovered from the terrors it had undergone. It was eight
days since the enemy had left, and every thing was quiet and calm. But
on this day the quiet was to be interrupted by a public merry-making.
Berlin, which had suffered so much, was to rejoice again.

The festival which was to be celebrated, was intended for none else
than John Gotzkowsky, the Merchant of Berlin, the man whom all looked
upon as their guardian angel and savior. He had cheerfully borne
hardship and toil, danger and injustice, for the good of his
fellow-men; he had always been found helping and ready to serve,
unselfish and considerate. The whole town was under obligation to him;
he had served all classes of society, and they all wished to evince
their gratitude to him.

Gotzkowsky had been requested to remain at home on the morning of
the festal day, but to hold himself in readiness to receive several
deputations. They were to be succeeded by a grand dinner, given by the
citizens of Berlin in his honor. They were to eat and drink, be merry,
and enjoy themselves to his glorification; they were to drink his
health in foaming glasses of champagne, and Gotzkowsky was to look
upon it all as a grand festival with which the good citizens of Berlin
were glorifying him, while they themselves were enjoying the luscious
viands and fragrant wines.

In vain did Gotzkowsky refuse to accept the proffered festival.
At first he tried to excuse himself on the plea of his daughter's
illness, alleging that he could not leave her bedside. But information
had been obtained from her physician, who reported her out of danger,
and that Gotzkowsky might leave her for several hours without risk.
Gotzkowsky being able to find no other excuse, was obliged to accept.
Elise was indeed sick. The grief and despair of her betrayed and
deceived heart had prostrated her; and her wild, fever-dreams, her
desponding complain