“No!” said Gotzkowsky, striving to free himself.  “I do not chaffer and bargain for my right.”

The other held him tight.  “But the Council are not averse to paying you, if you—­”

“If I will only traffic with you, is it not so?” interrupted Gotzkowsky.  “Let me go; we have done with each other.”

“You will regret having repulsed the Council,” said the burgomaster, threateningly.

“I never regret an action when my honor is satisfied,” said Gotzkowsky, with proud contempt; and then, without honoring the worthy gentlemen with another look, he left the hall, and returned into the street.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XI.

THE JEWS OF THE MINT.

Herr Itzig was a very pious and devout Jew.  He kept the Sabbath strictly after the custom of his ancestors.  He was charitable to the poor; and no Jew beggar ever left his door without a gift.

He sat in his room, performing his morning devotions, and so deeply was he immersed therein, that he did not hear a repeated knocking at the door until a low, gentle voice whispered, “Good-morning, Herr Itzig!”

Itzig first finished his prayer; for all the world he would not have broken off before the end of it:  “Be gracious and merciful to us, Jehovah, and incline us to be compassionate and helpful to all who approach us with supplication, even as we desire that thou shouldst be to us.”  And now the pious Jew closed his prayer-book, and turned slowly around.

That pale, bent man, who greeted him with a sorrowful smile—­could it possibly be—­could it be John Gotzkowsky, the celebrated banker, the honored and bright hero of the Exchange, the money-king before whom all Europe bowed down?

An expression of malicious joy stole over Itzig’s face; but he suppressed it immediately, for the last words of his prayer still floated around his lips, and somewhat purified them.  “Ah!” said he, in a friendly tone, as he stepped toward Gotzkowsky, stretching out both his hands to him, “the great and powerful John Gotzkowsky does me the honor to visit me.  What joy for my humble house!”

Gotzkowsky did not allow himself to be misled by this seeming politeness.  He observed him with sharp and penetrating eyes, and then proudly said:  “Listen, Itzig; let us be candid with each other.  You know the reports which are current about me in the city and on the Bourse.”

“I know them, but do not believe them,” cried Itzig, with an altered, earnest mien.  “Yes, I know these reports, and I know too what they are worth.  They are a speculation of Ephraim, that your notes may be depreciated, that he may buy them in at a low rate.  I know that Gotzkowsky is a rich man; and a rich man has judgment, and whoever has judgment is prudent—­does not venture much, nor stand security for other people.”

“I have perhaps less of this judgment than you think,” said Gotzkowsky.  “It may be that I have stood security.”