for his child; who looked up so lovingly to him with its large, clear, innocent eyes, and dreamt not of the anxiety of its father, nor of the sighs which told of the anguish of its young mother.  But nowhere could he procure employment—­nowhere was there a situation for the son-in-law of Gotzkowsky, who had accused the merchants, the magistrates, yea, even the king!  And now they were indeed poor, for they had no work; but, condemned to inactivity, to comfortless brooding, they shudderingly asked themselves what was to become of them—­how this life of privation was to end.

But while Bertram and Elise remained sad and dispirited, Gotzkowsky suddenly brightened up.  For a long time he had walked up and down in silent thought.  Now, of a sudden, his countenance assumed the cheerful expression of former days, and energetic self-reliance was expressed in his features.  Elise looked on with astonishment.  He drew out from his chest the last remains of by-gone days, the silver oak-wreath set with diamonds, presented him by the town of Berlin, and the golden goblet given by the town of Leipsic.  He looked at them for a long time attentively, and then went out, leaving Elise alone, to weep and pray to God to send them help, and to console Bertram when he came home from his fruitless search after a situation.

It was some hours before Gotzkowsky returned, but his countenance still retained its cheerfulness, and his features exhibited the energy and activity of past days.  He stretched out his hands to both of his children, and drew them affectionately toward him and embraced them.  “Are we then really poor, possessing one another?  I say that we are still rich, for our hearts are yet warm, and our honor is not yet lost.  But we have not yet learned to bear the indigence of our outer life, We have covered our poverty with the gloss of respectability; we have been ashamed to appear in the streets in coarse clothes; we have not yet learned to distinguish the necessary from the superfluous; we have endeavored to be poor, and yet happy, in a city.  That has been our mistake.  The happiness of poverty does not reside within the cold walls of a town.  It is not sown among the paving-stones of a street.  It is only in Nature, who is rich enough to nourish and give to all those who trustingly cast themselves on her bosom—­only in Nature, and the privacy of country life, that we can find rest and peace.  Come, my children, let us leave this town; let us have the courage to become children of Nature and free citizens of poverty.  Let us cast the show and glitter of a city life behind us, and wander forth, not over the sea nor into the desert, but to a cottage in a wood.  I have stripped off the last vestige of the past, and the silver wreath and the golden goblet have been of some use, for they have furnished us the means to found a new existence.  Bertram, have you the courage to commence life anew and become a peasant?”

Bertram smiled.  “I have both the courage and the strength, for I am hearty and able to work.”