“It is very seldom, father, that you make me such a present,” said she.

“What present, my child?”

“A quarter of an hour of your life, father.”

“You are right,” said he, thoughtfully.  “I have little time for pleasure, but I think so much the more of you.”

She shook her head gently.

“No,” said she, “you have no time to think of me.  You are too busy.  Hundreds of men claim your attention.  How could you have time, father, to think of your daughter?”

Gotzkowsky drew a dark-red case from his breast pocket and handed it to her.

“Look, Elise! see if I have not thought of you.  To-day is your birthday, and I have celebrated it as I have done every year by giving my workmen a festival, and endowing a poor bridal pair who on this day become betrothed.  Their prayers and tears constitute the most beautiful thank-offering to you, and being happy they bless you, the authoress of their happiness.  But how is this?  You have not yet opened the case.  Are you so little like other girls that diamonds cause you no pleasure?”

She opened the case, and contemplated the jewels with weary looks and scarcely concealed indifference.

“How wonderfully they shine and sparkle, and what tempting promises their brilliant colors hold forth!  But this is a princely present, father; your poor Elise it not worthy to wear this diadem and collar.”

“Oh, you are worthy to wear a crown!” cried her father with tender pride.  “And let me tell you, my child, you have only to choose whether you will place on this beautiful hair an earl’s coronet or a prince’s diadem.  And this, my child, is the reason of my visit to-day.”

“On business,” murmured she, almost inaudibly, with a bitter smile.

Gotzkowsky continued—­

“Young Count Saldem applied to me yesterday for your hand.”

“Count Saldem?” asked Elise.  “I hardly know him.  I have only spoken to him twice in the saloon of Countess Herzberg.”

“That does not prevent him from loving you ardently,” said Gotzkowsky, with scarcely perceptible irony.  “Yes, Elise, he loves you so ardently that he would overcome all obstacles of rank and make you a genuine countess, if I will only promise to endow you with half a million.”

The habitually pale countenance of Elise suddenly assumed life and color.  She drew herself up and threw her head proudly back.

“Do you wish to sell me, father?  Do you wish to give some value to this noble nonentity by the present of half a million, and will his lordship be kind enough in return to take the trifling burden of my person into the bargain?”

Her father gazed at her glowing countenance with eyes beaming with joy; but he quickly suppressed this emotion, and reassumed a serious air.

“Yes,” he said, “the good count, in consideration of half a million, will consent to raise the manufacturer’s daughter to the rank of a countess.  But for a whole million we can obtain still more; we can rise yet higher in the scale.  If I will advance his uncle, Prince Saldem, half a million to redeem his mortgaged estates, the prince promises to adopt the nephew, your suitor, as his son.  You would then be a princess, Elise, and I would have the proud satisfaction of calling a prince my son.”