He led the way; Holt followed with an unsteady step like a drunken man. They presented themselves before the banker's counter. The latter was standing behind the trellis of his desk, and on a table lay ten rolls of money.
"You have just now by word and hand confirmed a promise," said Gerlach, turning to the countryman, "which cannot be appreciated in money, for that promise comprises almost all the duties of the father of a family. But to make the fulfilment of the promise possible, a thousand florins are needed. Here lies the money. Accept it from me as a gift, and be happy."
Holt did not stir. He looked from the money at Gerlach, was motionless and rigid, until, at last, the paralyzing surprise began to resolve itself into a spasmodic quivering of the lips, and then into a mighty flood of tears. Seizing Seraphin's hands, he kissed them with an emotion that convulsed his whole being.
"That will do now," said the millionaire, "take the money, and go home."
"My God! I cannot find utterance," said Holt, stammering forth the words with difficulty. "Good heaven! is it possible? Is it true? I am still thinking 'tis only a dream."
"Downright reality, my man!" said the banker. "Stop crying; save your tears for a more fitting occasion. Put the rolls in your pocket, and go home."
Greifmann's coldness was effective in sobering down the man intoxicated with joy.
"May I ask, sir, what your name is, that I may at least know to whom I owe my rescue?"
"Seraphin is my name."
"Your name sounds like an angel's, and you are an angel to me. I am not acquainted with you, but God knows you, and he will requite you according to your deeds."