The two editors hastened toward him in order, in well-arranged speech, and with assurances of eternal gratitude, to offer their thanks.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XVIII.

A ROYAL LETTER.

Mr. Krause had not yet finished the declamation of the poem which his inspiration had produced in honor of Gotzkowsky, when a loud noise was heard at the door of the hall, and Gotzkowsky’s body-servant rushed in.  A messenger of the Council was without, he announced; a letter had just arrived from the king, and, as he was to deliver it to the burgomaster in person, the messenger had brought him here.  He handed Herr von Kircheisen a letter, and the latter broke the seal with majestic composure.

A pause of anxious expectation ensued.  Each one inquired of himself with trembling heart what could be the meaning of this royal letter.

The countenance of the chief magistrate grew more and more cheerful, and suddenly he called aloud:  “This is indeed a message of gladness for our poor town.  The king, our gracious lord, releases us from our obligation to pay the promised war-tax of a million and a half.  He wishes to retaliate for the Wurzburg and Bamberg bonds captured from the Aulic Council.  For which reason his majesty’s order is that we do not pay.”

A single cry of joy sounded from the lips of all present.  Gotzkowsky alone was silent, with downcast eyes, and his earnest, pensive expression contrasted strongly with the bright, joyous countenances which were illuminated by the order of the king to keep their money.

Among the happiest and most radiant, however, were the rich mint farmers Ephraim and Itzig, and the chief burgomaster.

“The royal decree relieves our town of a horrible burden,” said Herr von Kircheisen, with a happy smile.

“The whole mercantile community must be grateful to the king,” cried Ephraim.  “Berlin saves a million and a half, and the Russian is sold.”

Suddenly Gotzkowsky drew himself up erect, and his eagle eye ran over the whole assembly with a bold, beaming glance.  “The Russian is not sold,” cried he, “for Berlin will pay him the balance of a million and a half.  Berlin has pledged her word, and she will redeem it.”

The countenances of those around grew dark again, and here and there were heard words of anger and wild resentment.

“How!” cried Itzig, “do you require of the merchants to pay what they can keep for themselves?  The king has said, ‘You shall not pay!’”

“And I say, we will pay,” cried Gotzkowsky.  “What is written is written, and what is promised must be performed, for this our honor requires.  The king possesses not the power of annulling a promise or revoking an oath!  He who does not fulfil his word of honor is not a man of honor, were he even a king.”

“But,” said Herr von Kircheisen, pathetically, “there are nevertheless circumstances which render impossible the fulfilment of an obligation.”