d he, after
a long pause, in a low tone, as if speaking to himself, "when will
this nomadic life cease, and the world be at peace, to allow this
poor, badgered king a few hours of leisure and recreation, to enjoy
the contemplation of his house and his pictures? The wandering Jew, if
he ever existed, did not lead such a rambling life as I do. We get at
last to be like the roving play-actors, who have neither hearth
nor home, and thus we pass through the world, playing our bloody
tragedies, with the wailings of our subjects for chorus.[2] When will
it end?"

"When your majesty has subdued all your enemies."

The king looked around with surprise--he had quite forgotten
Gotzkowsky. "Ah! are you still there? and you prophesy me victory?
Well, that will be as good to me as the Leipsic money. Go back home,
and tell the Leipsigers to hurry with the money. And hark ye! when you
get to Potsdam, greet the Correggio, and tell him I yearn for him as a
lover does for his mistress Adieu!"

[Footnote 1: Porcelain-making was then a great secret in Germany, only
known in Meissen; the process being conducted with closed doors, and
the foreman bound by oath. Gotzkowsky paid ten thousand dollars
down, a life income of a thousand dollars, and house and firewood
free.--"Life of a Patriotic Merchant," p. 87.]

[Footnote 2: "Correspondance de Frederic II. avec le Comte
Algarottis."]

* * * * *

CHAPTER IV.

GRATITUDE AND RECOMPENSE.

Thus did Gotzkowsky save unfortunate Leipsic from the heavy burden
which weighed her down. The prisoners were released, and the merchants
gave a bond, for whose punctual and prompt payment Gotzkowsky
guaranteed with his signature.

He did not do this from a selfish or vain ambition to have the praise
of his name sounded, nor to increase the number of his addresses of
gratitude, or written asseverations of affection. He did it from love
of mankind; because he desired to fulfil the vow he had made to God
and himself on the highway as a shivering, starving lad: that if he
should ever become rich, he would be to every unfortunate and needy
one the hand which had appeared out of the dust-cloud to his relief.
He did it because, as he tells us naively and simply in his Life, "I
knew from my own experience how difficult it was for a community
to collect such a sum, and because the idea of profiting by such
misfortune was abhorrent to me."

And now there was a brillian