The Merchant of Berlin | Page 3

case from her bosom and pressed it with deep feeling to
her lips. Looking timidly at the door she seemed to listen; convinced
that no one approached, she pressed a hidden spring of the medallion;
the golden cover flew open and disclosed the portrait of a handsome
man in Russian uniform.
The young girl contemplated this portrait with a strange mixture of
delight and melancholy, and then, completely overpowered by its
aspect, she approached it to her lips. "Feodor!" murmured she, so softly
that it sounded almost like a sigh, and stretching out the hand which
held the medallion, in order to be able better to contemplate the picture,
she continued--
"Feodor, why did we meet, to be separated forever again? Why did not
Fate allow me to be born as a poor serf upon one of thy estates, giving
to thee the right to possess me, to me the sweet duty of loving thee? O
Heaven, why art thou an enemy of my country, or why am I a German?
Men call me happy; they envy me my father's wealth; they know not
how wretched and forsaken I am."
She bowed her head upon her breast and wept bitterly. Suddenly steps
were heard quite close to her door. She started, and concealed the
medallion quickly in her breast. "My father," murmured she, and drying
her tears she arose to open the door. She was right, it was her father. He
held out his hand to her. She took it and pressed it to her lips
respectfully, but she did not see the look of almost passionate
tenderness with which he regarded her, for she had cast down her eyes
and did not dare to look at him.
"I have come, Elise, to lead you to our garden festival. You will go
with me, my child?"

"I am ready," said she, taking her hat and shawl.
"But why in such a hurry, my child?" asked her father. "Let us leave
these good people yet a little while to themselves. We will still be in
time to witness their games. I would like to stay a quarter of an hour
with you, Elise."
Without answering, she rolled an arm-chair to the window, and laid
aside her hat and shawl.
"It is very seldom, father, that you make me such a present," said she.
"What present, my child?"
"A quarter of an hour of your life, father."
"You are right," said he, thoughtfully. "I have little time for pleasure,
but I think so much the more of you."
She shook her head gently.
"No," said she, "you have no time to think of me. You are too busy.
Hundreds of men claim your attention. How could you have time,
father, to think of your daughter?"
Gotzkowsky drew a dark-red case from his breast pocket and handed it
to her.
"Look, Elise! see if I have not thought of you. To-day is your birthday,
and I have celebrated it as I have done every year by giving my
workmen a festival, and endowing a poor bridal pair who on this day
become betrothed. Their prayers and tears constitute the most beautiful
thank-offering to you, and being happy they bless you, the authoress of
their happiness. But how is this? You have not yet opened the case. Are
you so little like other girls that diamonds cause you no pleasure?"
She opened the case, and contemplated the jewels with weary looks and
scarcely concealed indifference.

"How wonderfully they shine and sparkle, and what tempting promises
their brilliant colors hold forth! But this is a princely present, father;
your poor Elise it not worthy to wear this diadem and collar."
"Oh, you are worthy to wear a crown!" cried her father with tender
pride. "And let me tell you, my child, you have only to choose whether
you will place on this beautiful hair an earl's coronet or a prince's
diadem. And this, my child, is the reason of my visit to-day."
"On business," murmured she, almost inaudibly, with a bitter smile.
Gotzkowsky continued--
"Young Count Saldem applied to me yesterday for your hand."
"Count Saldem?" asked Elise. "I hardly know him. I have only spoken
to him twice in the saloon of Countess Herzberg."
"That does not prevent him from loving you ardently," said
Gotzkowsky, with scarcely perceptible irony. "Yes, Elise, he loves you
so ardently that he would overcome all obstacles of rank and make you
a genuine countess, if I will only promise to endow you with half a
million."
The habitually pale countenance of Elise suddenly assumed life and
color. She drew herself up and threw her head proudly back.
"Do you wish to sell me, father? Do you wish to give some value to this
noble nonentity by the present of half