“Or rather say,” said Gotzkowsky, sadly, “I have not calculated enough, and from all the experiences of my life I have not drawn the sum total.”

“You miscalculated,” said Ephraim, “for you calculated on gratitude.  That is a bad investment which does not bear interest.  Mankind cannot be grateful, and when any one tries to be so he must sink, for others are not so.  Whoever wishes to succeed in this world, must think only of himself, and keep his own interest in sight.”

“You wise men of the world are right!” cried Gotzkowsky, with a hoarse laugh.

Unhindered by Gotzkowsky’s vehement and scornful bearing, Ephraim continued:  “If I had thought as you did, I would not have been able to operate against you, nor could I have brought the mint ordinance to bear on you.  Then, to be sure, I would have been grateful, but it would not have been business-like.  Therefore I thought first of my own welfare, and after that I came here to serve you, and show you my gratitude.”

“I do not desire any gratitude.  Let me go my way—­you go yours.”

Ephraim looked at him almost pityingly.  “Be reasonable, Gotzkowsky; take good advice.  The world does not thank you for being honorable.  Mankind has not deserved the pleasure of laughing at you.  And they will laugh!”

“Leave me, I tell you!” cried Gotzkowsky; “you shall not deprive me of my last possession, my conscience!”

“Conscience!” sneered Ephraim.  “You will starve on that capital.”

Gotzkowsky sighed deeply and dropped his head on his breast.  At this moment there were heard from without loud hurrahs and jubilant sounds, mingled with the tones of martial music.

King Frederick II. was returning this day to Berlin, after a long absence, and the happy and delighted Berliners had prepared for him a pompous and brilliant entry.  They had built triumphal arches, and the guilds had gone forth to accompany him into the city, now adorned for festivity.  The procession had to pass by Gotzkowsky’s house, and already were heard the sounds of the approaching music, while the shouts and cries of the people became louder and shriller.

Ephraim stepped to the window, opened it, and pointing down into the street, he said, with a mocking laugh:  “Just look, Gotzkowsky!  There is the true test of your beautiful, high-toned principles.  How often has Berlin not called you her benefactor, and yet she is overjoyed on the very day you are going to ruin!  The whole town of Berlin knows that Gotzkowsky fails to-day, and yet they pass by your house with merry music, and no one thinks of you.”

“He is right,” murmured Gotzkowsky, as the huzzas sounded under his window.  “He is right!  I was a fool to love mankind.”