The neighbours, busy, energetic folk who performed their daily tasks and drank wine with their friends, scoffed at the dreamy, unpractical old fellow and derided his occupation as the idle pastime of a mind not too well balanced.  But the clockmaker, finding in his workroom all that he needed of excitement, of joy and sorrow, of elation and despondency, did not miss the pleasures of social life, nor did he heed the idle gossip of which he was the subject.

It need hardly be said that such a man had but few acquaintances; yet a few he had, and among them one who is worthy of especial note—­a wealthy citizen who aspired to a position of civic honour in Strassburg.  In appearance he was lean, old, and ugly, with hatchet-shaped face and cunning, malevolent eyes; and when he pressed his hateful attentions on the fair Guta she turned from him in disgust.

One day this creature called on the clockmaker, announced that he had been made a magistrate, and demanded the hand of Guta, hinting that it would go ill with the master should he refuse.

The clockmaker was taken completely by surprise, but he offered his congratulations and called the girl to speak for herself as to her hand.  When Guta heard the proposal she cast indignant glances at the ancient magistrate, whereupon he, without giving her an opportunity to speak, said quickly: 

“Do not answer me now, sweet maid; do not decide hastily, I beg of you, for such a course might bring lasting trouble on you and your father.  I will return to-morrow for your answer.”

When he was gone Guta flung herself into her father’s arms and declared that she could never marry the aged swain.

“My dear,” said the clockmaker soothingly, “you shall do as you please.  Heed not his threats, for when I have finished my great work we shall be as rich and powerful as he.”

On the following day the magistrate called again, looking very important and self-satisfied, and never doubting but that the answer would be favourable.  But when Guta told him plainly that she would not marry him his rage was unbounded, and he left the house vowing vengeance on father and daughter.

Scarcely was he gone ere a handsome youth entered the room and looked with some surprise at the disturbed appearance of Guta and her father.  When he heard the story he was most indignant; later, when the clockmaker had left the young people alone, Guta confessed that the attentions of the magistrate were loathsome to her, and burst into tears.

The young man had long loved the maiden in secret, and he could conceal his passion no longer.  He begged that she would become his bride, and Guta willingly consented, but suggested that they should not mention the matter to her father till the latter had completed his great clock, which he fondly believed was soon to bring him fame and fortune.  She also proposed that her lover should offer to become her father’s partner—­for he, too, was a clockmaker—­so that in the event of the master’s great work proving a failure his business should still be secure.  The young man at once acted upon the suggestion, and the father gratefully received the proffered assistance.