"What present, my child?"
"A quarter of an hour of your life, father."
"You are right," said he, thoughtfully. "I have little time for pleasure, but I think so much the more of you."
She shook her head gently.
"No," said she, "you have no time to think of me. You are too busy. Hundreds of men claim your attention. How could you have time, father, to think of your daughter?"
Gotzkowsky drew a dark-red case from his breast pocket and handed it to her.
"Look, Elise! see if I have not thought of you. To-day is your birthday, and I have celebrated it as I have done every year by giving my workmen a festival, and endowing a poor bridal pair who on this day become betrothed. Their prayers and tears constitute the most beautiful thank-offering to you, and being happy they bless you, the authoress of their happiness. But how is this? You have not yet opened the case. Are you so little like other girls that diamonds cause you no pleasure?"
She opened the case, and contemplated the jewels with weary looks and scarcely concealed indifference.
"How wonderfully they shine and sparkle, and what tempting promises their brilliant colors hold forth! But this is a princely present, father; your poor Elise it not worthy to wear this diadem and collar."
"Oh, you are worthy to wear a crown!" cried her father with tender pride. "And let me tell you, my child, you have only to choose whether you will place on this beautiful hair an earl's coronet or a prince's diadem. And this, my child, is the reason of my visit to-day."