But Bertram, who called Gotzkowsky father, had never ventured to call Gotzkowsky’s daughter sister.  Brought up together, they had in their childhood shared their games, their childish joys and sorrows with one another; he had been a protecting brother to her, she an affectionate sister to him.  But ever since Bertram had returned from a journey of three years, which Gotzkowsky had caused him to make, all this had changed.  Elise, whom he had left almost a child, he found on his return a blooming young woman, and a feeling of joyous emotion flashed through him as he stood blushing before her; while she, perfectly collected, with a quiet look bade him welcome.

Under the charm of this look he had lived several weeks of rapture and yet of anxiety.  He soon felt that he loved this young girl passionately, but he also felt that she returned his passion with the lukewarm affection of a friend or a sister, and that she had no suspicion of the tumult and pain, the joy and ecstasy which filled his breast.  And yet he had a right to strive for the prize of her love; and if he raised his eyes to the daughter of his benefactor, it was not presumption, it was Gotzkowsky himself who emboldened him to do so.  He had said to him, “Seek to win the love of my daughter, and I will cheerfully bid you welcome as my son, for I know that in your hands Elise’s happiness is safe.”

Thus he had the consent of her father, but Elise’s love was wanting, and how could he ever deserve this love, how win this heart which shone as bright and clear, as hard and cold as rock crystal?  Of what avail was it that he worked indefatigably in the service of his benefactor? how did it help him that the money, which Gotzkowsky had given to him as a boy, had borne rich interest and made him a man of means, and even, if he chose, of independence?  What did it profit him that all men loved him, if this one being, by whom he so ardently longed to be loved, always remained the same, unchanged toward him, always affectionate and friendly, always open and candid, never abashed, never blushing, never casting her eyes down before him?

“It must at last be decided,” thought Bertram, as he sat next Elise; “I must at last know whether she returns my love, or whether that be true which I have heard whispered since my return.  I must at least have certainty, even if it annihilates all my wishes.”

At this moment there sounded near him merry shouts and laughter.  Gotzkowsky had accosted the bridal pair with a jest, and the grateful audience had taken up this jest with delight.

“Long life to the bridal pair!” cried he, raising his glass on high.  “Health, wealth, and happiness to them!” A perfect uproar followed this appeal, and brought tears of delight into the eyes of the blushing little bride, who stood up with the bridegroom and bowed her thanks.

Balthazar laughed, and, as soon as every thing had become quiet, replied:  “There, that will do! you have hurrahed enough.  I don’t wish for wealth; health, happiness, and content are enough for me with my little Gretchen; but for these blessings I have to thank, we have all to thank, our lord and master, our father Gotzkowsky.  Therefore, you boys up there, stop your clatter and dancing, and listen to what I have to say to you.”