“I will lend it to you gratis,” said Ephraim, pressing his hand affectionately in his own.

Gotzkowsky answered sadly:  “If it ever came to pass that I were obliged to borrow, you would not remember this day, and I would not be the man to remind you of it.”

“Remind us of it,” protested Ephraim, “and you shall see that we keep our word.  Come to us and say, ’Remember the tax that I freed you from,’ and you shall see all that you desire shall be fulfilled.”

“God grant that I may never have need to remind you of it!” said Gotzkowsky, pressing back the excited Jews, and approaching General Tottleben.

“You forget, sir, that you summoned the honorable Council of Berlin hither, and that these gentlemen are awaiting your orders.”

The general seemed to awaken out of a deep reverie.  “Yes,” said he, as if to himself, “the German dream is finished, and now I must be a Russian again.”  He then turned quickly to Gotzkowsky and offered him his hand.  “Gotzkowsky,” said he, gently and persuasively, “consider it once more—­come with me and be my teacher.”

“What I can teach you is but little.  It is an easy lesson for him who has a heart, an impossible one for him who has none.  Learn to love mankind.  That is all my wisdom, and my farewell.”

The general sighed.  “You will not go with me?  Well, then, farewell!” And as if to disperse the painful and bitter feelings which assailed his German heart, he turned away and called, in Russian, to his adjutant:  “Let us break up, gentlemen.  To horse, to horse!”

But in the midst of the confusion of the soldiers, and the tramping of horses, the chief burgomaster made a way for himself.  He had to sustain the honor of the Council, and pronounce the beautifully worded oration which had cost him two sleepless nights to compose; he had to place in the hands of the general the offering of Berlin gratitude.

At last he succeeded in reaching the general, and he began his speech.  Full and powerful did his voice sound through the New Market, and the delighted people rejoiced over the oratorical talent of their chief magistrate, and gazed with pride and admiration at his golden chain of office—­that chain which had gone through so much, had endured so much, without growing pale or dim.

But General Tottleben did not accept the present which the city of Berlin offered him.  He said:  “If the town believed that its fate was rendered more tolerable by my discipline than it otherwise would have been, let it thank the express orders of my empress.  The honor of having been commander of Berlin for three days is sufficient reward for me.”

Three hours later Berlin was freed from Russians and Austrians.  Gotzkowsky, who had finally succeeded in freeing himself from the tumultuous expressions of gratitude of the Council, the editors, and the Jews, returned to his home, of which he himself says:  “My house resembled more a cow-house than a dwelling, having been filled for a while, night and day, with Russians.”