“As if the king would consent to a nobleman thus demeaning himself!” cried Elise; “as if he would graciously allow the count so far to degrade himself!”

“Oh, the king will consent,” continued her father in a light tone.  “You know that he is fond of me.  Only say whether you consent to become Countess Saldem.”

“Never!” cried she proudly.  “I am no chattel to be bartered, and this miserable title of princess has no charms for me.  You can command me, father, to renounce the man I love, but you can never compel me to give my hand to a man I do not love, were he even a king!”

Her father clasped her vehemently in his arms.

“That is blood of my blood, and spirit of my spirit,” cried he.  “You are right, my child, to despise honors and titles; they are empty tinsel, and no one believes in them any longer.  We stand at the portal of a new era, and this era will erect new palaces and create new princes; but you, my child, will be one of the first princesses of this new era.  Manufactories will be the new palaces, and manufacturers the new princes.  Instead of the sword, money will rule the world, and men will bow down before manufacturers and merchants as they are wont to do before generals.  Therefore I say you are right in refusing Prince Saldem’s offer, for I promise you, you shall be a princess, even without the title, and the great and noble shall bow as low before your riches as if they were a ducal diadem.”

Elise shook her head with a melancholy smile:  “I have no desire for such homage, and I despise the base metal with which you can buy everything.”

“Despise it not!” cried her father, “prize it rather!  Gold is a holy power; it is the magic wand of Moses which caused springs to gush forth from the sterile rock.  See, my child—­I, who despise all the rank and honors which the world can offer me, I tell you gold is the only thing for which I have any respect.  But a man must perceive and understand the secret of this magic power.  He who strives for wealth only to possess it is a heartless fool, and his fate will be that of Midas—­he will starve in the midst of his treasures.  But he who strives for wealth for the purpose of giving, he will discover that money is the fountain of happiness; and in his hands the dead metal is transformed into a living blessing.  You may believe your father, who knows the world, and who has drunk the bitter cup of poverty.”

“You were once poor?” asked Elise, looking at her father with astonishment.

Gotzkowsky smiled, and sank back in his chair, musing and silent.  After a pause he resumed:  “Yes, I was poor.  I have endured all the horrors of poverty.  I have hungered and thirsted, suffered misery and privation, even as a little boy.  Thus lay I once, wretched and forsaken, in a ditch by the highway, and raised my hands to God on high, praying but for a drop of water, but for a morsel of bread.  Ah! so strong was the belief of the goodness of God