he murmured: You see my
suffering, O God! I have done my utmost! I have humbled myself to
begging--to pitiful complaining. My God! my God! will no helping hand
stretch itself once more to me out of the cloud?"

"You should have prayed before to God," said Itzig, with cruel
mockery. "You should have begged Him for prudence and foresight."

Gotzkowsky did not heed him. He fought and struggled with his immense
suffering, and, being a noble and a brave man, he at length conquered
it. For a moment he had been cowed and downcast, but now he recovered
all the power of his energetic nature. He raised again his bowed head,
and his look was once more determined and defiant. "Well, then, I have
tried every thing; now I accept my fate. Listen, then, Herr Itzig, I
am going to suspend payment; my house must fail!"

Itzig shuddered with a sudden terror. "My God!" cried he, "only
yesterday I bought a draft of yours. You will not pay it?"

"I will not do it, because I cannot; and I would not do it, if I
could. I have humbled myself before you in the dust, and you have
stretched out no hand to raise me. Farewell, and may that now happen
which you would not prevent when you could! You punish yourself.
Farewell!"

Itzig held him convulsively back, and cried, in a voice drowned by
rage, "You will pay my draft?"

"I will not," said Gotzkowsky. "You have judged; take now your
reward." He threw Itzig's hands from him, and hastened from the spot.

Behind him sounded the wailing and raging of Itzig, who implored
Heaven and hell to punish the criminal who had cheated him of his
money.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XII.

THE LEIPSIC MERCHANT.

Exhausted and weary, Gotzkowsky returned to his house, and retired to
his room, to give himself up to the sad and terrible thoughts which
tortured him. He could not conceal from himself that the sword above
his head was only suspended by two thin threads. If De Neufville did
not return from Amsterdam, and if the courier did not bring a relief
from Leipsic, then was he lost without redemption, and the deadly
sword must fall. For the first time did he think of death; for the
first time did the thought of it flash like lightning through his
brain, and make him almost cheerful and happy.

He could die; it was not necessary that he should bear the pain and
humiliation of life. He could take refuge in the quiet, silent grave
under the turf, which would soon be decked w