again. "See," said he, "there
comes Count Salm, whom you saved from death when the Russians
were here. He does not look up here. Ah, there goes the banker,
Splittyerber, whose factories in Neustadt Eberswald you saved at the
same time. He, too, does not look up. Oh! yes, he does, and laughs.
Look there! There goes the king with his staff. You have caused his
majesty much pleasure. You accomplished his favorite wish--you founded
the porcelain factory. You travelled at your own expense into Italy,
and bought pictures for him. You preserved his capital from pillage
by the Austrians and Russians. The Dutch ambassador, who at that time
interfered in favor of Berlin with the Austrians, him has the king in
his gratitude created a count. What has he done for you? What Verelse
did was but a trifle in comparison with your services, yet he,
forsooth, is made a count. What has the king done for you? See, the
king and his staff has passed by, and not one of them has looked up
here. Yesterday they would have done so, for yesterday you were rich;
but to-day they have forgotten you already: for to-day you are poor,
and the memory of the people is very short for the poor. Ah! look down
again, Gotzkowsky--so many gentlemen, so many high-born people are
passing! Not one looks up!"

Against his will Gotzkowsky had been drawn to the window, and, enticed
by Ephraim's words, he had looked down anxiously and mournfully at the
brilliant procession which was passing by. How much would he not have
given if only one of the many who had formerly called themselves his
friends had looked up at him, had greeted him cordially? But Ephraim
was right. No one did so. No one thought of him who, with a broken
heart, was leaning beside the window, asking of mankind no longer
assistance or help, but a little love and sympathy. But, as he looked
down into the street again, his countenance suddenly brightened up.
He laid his hand hastily on Ephraim's shoulder, and pointed to the
procession.

"You are right," said he; "the respectable people do not look up here,
but here comes the end of the procession, the common people, the poor
and lowly, the workmen. Look at them! See how they are gazing at me.
Ah, they see me, they greet me, they wave their hats! There, one of
them is putting his hand to his face. He is a day-laborer who formerly
worked in my factory. This man is weeping, and because he knows that
I have been unfortunate. See! here come others--poor peop