“The Council have sent us,” said one of the aldermen.

“I have no further business with the Council,” said Gotzkowsky, contemptuously.

“Gotzkowsky, do not be angry with us any longer,” said the aldermen, almost imploringly.  “The magistracy, in acknowledgment of your great services to the city, are ready and willing to pay the sum you demand.”  Gotzkowsky shook his head proudly.  “I am no longer ready to accept it.  The term has expired; you can no longer buy me off; you remain my debtors.”

“But you will listen to us,” cried Itzig.  “We come in the name of the Jews.”

“We are empowered to assist you,” added Ephraim.  “We have been instructed by the Jews to give you, on the security of your signature and the prepayment of the interest, as much money and credit as will prevent your house from failing.”

Gotzkowsky’s large bright eyes rested for a moment searchingly and speculatively on Ephraim’s countenance; and the light, mocking smile which stood on the lips of the Jew confirmed his determination, and strengthened him in his resolution.  “My house has failed,” said he, quietly and proudly, and, reading the anxiety and terror depicted on their countenances, he continued almost exultingly:  “yes! my house has failed.  The document in which I announced it and declared myself a bankrupt, has already been sent to the magistracy and the merchant’s guild.”

“You dare not fail!” cried Itzig, in a rage.

“You dare not put this insult upon the Council and the town,” exclaimed the aldermen, with dignity.  “We cannot allow posterity to say of us, ’The town of Berlin left the noblest of her citizens to perish in want and misery.’”

“It will be well for me if posterity should say so, for then my name and my honor will be saved.”

“But the magistracy will be delighted to be able to show its gratitude toward you.”

“And the Jews will be delighted, too,” cried Itzig.  “The Jews are ready to help you.”

Gotzkowsky cast an angry look at him.  “That is to say, you have calculated that it will not profit you if I do fail.  You have large drafts on me, and if I fail, you only get a portion of your debt; whereas, if I stand, you get the whole.  You would be magnanimous from self-interest, but I do not accept your magnanimity—­you shall lose.  Let that be your punishment, and my revenge.  You have wounded my heart unto death, therefore I will strike you on the only spot in which you are sensitive to pain:  I attack your greed of money.  You come too late; I am bankrupt!  My drafts are no longer current, but my honor will not die with my firm.”

They were all silent, and gazed down to the earth frowningly.  Only one looked toward Gotzkowsky with a clear, bright eye.  This was Ephraim, who, mindful of his conversation with Gotzkowsky, said to himself, triumphantly, “He has taken one lesson from me—­he has learned to despise mankind.”