A deep silence followed Gotzkowsky’s speech.  All the faces were again overcast, and in the contracted brow and anxious countenances could be read the fact that his words had painfully convinced them that it was necessary to pay.

Even Herr von Kircheisen in his fear of the return of the Russians, forgot the enormous amount of the sums to be paid, and said, with a melancholy sigh:  “Gotzkowsky is, I am afraid, right.  It is very hard to pay the money, but it is very dangerous not to do it.”

“It might cost us our heads,” confirmed the first councilman.

Ephraim stood with his head cast down, and muttered to himself, “Money is very dear, but life is still dearer.”

Itzig cried out in despair:  “Let us keep our money.  Without money the Jew is nobody.”

But the chief burgomaster, who had consulted the councilmen, now approached Gotzkowsky, and, with a smile, offered him his hand.  “We thank you,” said he, “for you have spoken wisely, and your advice shall be followed.  We will pay, for we cannot help ourselves.  But we must beg you to do us another important service.  Go to the king and beg him not to be angry with us if we do not obey his order.”

“Yes, do so, do so, Gotzkowsky!” cried all the others.  “Go to the king, he is friendly toward you—­beg for us.”

Gotzkowsky’s countenance beamed with generous satisfaction.  “Very well,” said he; “I will go to the king and beg him to allow the town of Berlin to preserve its honor immaculate, and pay the promised sum.”

“Use all your eloquence, that the king may remain favorably inclined toward us, and not become angry with us for acting this once against his orders,” admonished the chief burgomaster.

“The king is a high-minded and noble man,” said Gotzkowsky, enthusiastically.  “He looks upon a man’s word as sacred, and will understand us and honor us for not wishing to break ours.”

An hour later the chief citizens and merchants of Berlin repaired to the spacious town-hall, where an elegant banquet had been prepared, and merriment prevailed, and glasses sounded; and Berlin, rescued, celebrated the first day of joy and happiness.

But John Gotzkowsky, to whom this feast was given, whom Berlin called her deliverer and benefactor, was not present at this banquet.  Deeply buried in furs he had just entered his carriage, and braving danger and toil, in the cold and darkness he drove away toward Meissen, where the king had established his headquarters.

* * * * *

BOOK III.

CHAPTER I.

FREDERICK THE GREAT AT MEISSEN.