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Updated: May 31, 2025
Ephraim and Itzig, foul swollen creatures, were not broached at all; and their gratitude was, That, at a future day, Gotzkowsky's day of bankruptcy, they were hardest of any on Gotzkowsky. This Anecdote only, in regard to Freedom of the Press, to the so-called 'air we breathe, not having which we die! Would modern Friends of Progress believe it?
"But believe me, noble sir, my heart to-day is not as proud as my words. It is sore with pain and grief over our deep, unmerited degradation." "Silence, silence!" whispered the chief magistrate, leaning tremblingly on Gotzkowsky's arm. He heard a noise behind the closed gates, and his mind misgave him that the dreaded enemy was at hand.
I would then no longer have the power of protecting you, for General Tottleben's anger would be turned principally against me, who guaranteed the payment of the contribution. God himself does not protect him who breaks his word. He is an outlaw." A deep silence followed Gotzkowsky's speech.
Formerly they came to Gotzkowsky's splendid dinners, now they had come to the auction. The fauteuils and velvet-covered sofas, the carpets and gold-embroidered curtains, the chandeliers of bronze and rock crystal, the paintings and statuary, the silver table-ware, and the costly porcelain service, all these were now exposed for sale. There is something sad and mournful about an auction.
They were drinking and making merry, and striking their glasses noisily together; draining them to the health of the popular, handsome, and brilliant comrade who had just entered their circle, and who was no other than he whom Gotzkowsky's daughter, in the sorrow of her heart, was mourning as dead! no one else than the Russian colonel, Count Feodor von Brenda.
The general looked into Gotzkowsky's noble countenance with increasing astonishment, and his features assumed a more benevolent expression. "I give you my word that your petition shall be granted," said he; "I will give my soldiers strict orders, and woe be to him who does not obey them! But you have spoken for others, and I would like to oblige you personally.
Bertram felt that a deep grief was corroding Gotzkowsky's life a grief whose destructive influence was greater because he avoided the expression of it, and sought no relief nor consolation by communicating it to others. "He shall, at least, speak to me," said Bertram. "I will compel him to make me the confidant of his grief, and to lighten his heart by imparting a portion of his burden to mine."
This hour had now arrived, but Herr von Kircheisen did not bless it; on the contrary, he cursed it. He was standing at the window of his ground floor when Gotzkowsky passed by. Their eyes met. Gotzkowsky's were clear and penetrating; Kircheisen's were cast down, as he stepped back from the window.
The men shouted for joy at Gotzkowsky's words, and pushed after him with wild impetuosity into the house, and the large hall, in which the costly weapons were tastefully grouped and ornamentally arranged against the walls.
And besides this, their honor and their reputation were untouched, for every one was acquainted with Gotzkowsky's fate, every one knew that he had not fallen through his own fault, but through the force of circumstances, and the baseness of mankind. He might have cause of complaint against the world, it had none against him. With his creditors he had been honest.
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