As Oswald hurried down the street, scarcely knowing what he was doing, he felt suddenly some one seize him by the arm. It was Mr. Timm.
After his encounter with Mr. Schmenckel Mr. Timm had been compelled to abandon his post of observation near the princess's house in order to go into the courtyard of one of the adjoining houses, and there wash off the blood which the director's weighty fist had drawn from mouth and nose. Timm was as angry as he had ever been in his life. It was the rage of the hunter when he sees a wild beast tearing his cunningly-woven nets and escaping from his most ingenious trap. This booby of a Schmenckel, with his stupid honesty! How he had worked at the man to dazzle him with golden prospects; and now! It was enough to turn a man's brain! The glorious fortune all lost! And why? For nothing but a fit of honesty! And if Oswald, too, should be such a fool! These blockheads can never be left alone for a moment! And just now the bleeding will not stop! What enormous strength that fellow has!
Thus it came that the martyr of stupid honesty saw neither Mr. Schmenckel nor the prince leave the house, nor Oswald go in, and he was now also but just in time to overtake the latter as he was rather running than walking down the street.
"Hallo! sir!"
"What is it?"
"Well, I askyouthat!"
"Is that you?"
"Who else? How did it go? Did the old one give in promptly?" And he was about to slip his arm familiarly in Oswald's arm; but Oswald stepped back.
"Don't touch me!" he said, "or I will beat your brains out!"
"Oh ho!" said Timm, giving way; "is he crazy too?"
"Wretch!" cried Oswald. "You wretch! who make vulgarity your profession, and speculate on vice. Let me never find you again in my way, or you will repent it!"
He left Timm, who had first turned ashy pale and then broken out into loud laughter, and hurried away. He did not mind where his feet carried him! He went as in a dream, and what he saw and heard appeared to him only like dreamy images: curious, terrified faces of women and children in doors and windows; dense crowds of men, who seemed to tell each other fearful things with wild gestures and loud exclamations; running and shouting, yelling and whistling on all sides, and between the mournful ring of alarm-bells from all the steeples. Then, as Oswald left the aristocratic portion of the town further and further behind him, a new sound mingled with the others: a very peculiar rattling noise, and a low thundering, which made the very houses tremble.
But all this did not rouse him from his waking dream. The sorrow for his ruined happiness had made him blind and deaf to the sorrow of a whole ill-treated nation. Suddenly a ghastly spectacle startled him. From one of the side streets a young man came running out, who cried: "Treason! treason! They are firing at us!" The young man's blouse was torn and covered with blood; his face was pale, his hair dishevelled; he staggered like a drunken man, and suddenly he fell down right before Oswald. Oswald raised him up, and in an instant a crowd of men and women were around them. "He is dying!" cried the men. "A curse upon the executioners!" The women shrieked. One cried out: "Take him; don't you see the gentleman can hardly stand himself!" A man took the dying youth from Oswald's arms. Suddenly Oswald felt some one touch him. He turned around and saw Berger. Oswald's soul had during the last hours been so overwhelmed with strange, exceptional events and sensations that he was prepared even for the most extraordinary occurrences. And if there was a man in this world whom he wished to see just then it was his friend and teacher, the companion of his fate. Oswald did not ask him how? and whence? He threw himself into Berger's arms.
"Glad you are here," said the other, hurriedly; "come! let the dead bury the dead. We must work and be doing as long as it is day!"
They hastened off together.
With every step they came nearer to the crater of the revolution which had broken out a few hours before. In this part of the city barricades were going up, built by a thousand brave and skilful hands, and manned by death-defying men and boys, mostly belonging to the lower classes of the people. These improvised fortresses did not inspire much hope of being able to resist long, for they consisted mostly of one, or at best of several, heavy wagons, torn-off planks, and other similar objects, hastily piled up together, while the arms of the small garrison were generally only rusty old swords, pikes, guns without locks, and similar instruments.
Berger stopped here and there giving advice, encouraging others, and calling with his deep, sonorous voice "To arms! to the barricades!" But whenever Oswald offered to lay hand on the work himself he kept him from it.
"Not here," he said; "these are only our outposts, which must be given up quickly. No barricade can be defended successfully in this straight, wide street. The gross of the revolution is further back."
Thus they came to Broad street, near Mrs. Black's private hotel.
The hotel was a corner house, and a narrow by-street led past its side into Brother street. In the narrow alley was the Dismal Hole. Here the excitement was intense. From the great square, near the palace, platoon firing was heard, and quite a cannonade; but no trace of barricades was yet to be seen.
"Are these men mad?" cried Berger. "If they do not mean to throw up fortifications here, where will they do it?"
On the steps of the hotel, surrounded by a crowd, stood a gentleman in a white cravat who spoke eagerly to the people: "His majesty has been pleased to receive the deputation." "Away with your majesty!" cried an angry voice. "His majesty is pleased to shoot his faithful subjects and to receive them with grapeshot!" cried another voice. "Gentlemen!" shrieked the orator, "do not give way to feelings of hatred and revenge. His majesty consents to withdraw the troops as soon as you lay down your arms." "And as soon as we offer our throats to the knife!" cried a tremendous voice, and a man suddenly stood by the side of the orator in the white cravat.
It was Berger. His gray hair was hanging wildly around his uncovered head; his eyes were burning as if the revolution itself had taken his form and voice. "Will," he continued, "you hesitate, and fear, and negotiate, while your brethren are murdered in the next street? Are you ever going on trusting, you trusting, deceived, cheated people. You will gain nothing but what you conquer, arms in hand; you will have no liberty which you do not purchase with your blood. Do not chaffer and bargain any longer, but give the high price--your life's blood!--for the precious boon!--for liberty! To arms! To arms!"
"To arms! To arms!" It resounded with the voice of thunder on all sides. "Victory or death! To arms!"
The unarmed hands rose, as if to swear.
Berger had hurried down the steps. They surrounded him; they pressed his hands. Some asked him to "take the matter in hand;" a leader they must have.
Berger looked around. Suddenly he rushed towards a tall, thin gentleman who was pushing his way through the crowd.
"There is your man!" he cried, taking the tall stranger by the hand.
"He must be our leader. Step up there, Oldenburg, and speak to them only a few words. You understand that better than anybody else!"
Oldenburg was on the porch.
"Gentlemen!" he said, raising his hat; "let us follow the fashion of the day and build a barricade. I practiced the art a fortnight ago for a little while in the streets of Paris. If you will make use of my experience for want of a better man, I am heartily at your service. I am ready to build with you, to fight with you, to conquer with you, and, if it must be, to die with you!"
The iron ring in Oldenburg's voice, his manner of speaking easy and yet so persuasive had a charm which the crowd could not resist. It flashed like an electric shock through all hearts.
"You shall be our leader!" they cried on all sides. "Let the black-beard be our captain!"
"Well, then," said Oldenburg, raising his voice; "every man to the barricade!"
The magic word brought about incredible activity. The confused, helpless mass suddenly came to order. In all minds but one thought seemed to be uppermost--to build a barricade--and all hands were busy at the one common work.
"We must be done in ten minutes!" said Oldenburg, "or we might just as well not have commenced at all."
Oldenburg's marvellous coolness and quickness, his sharp eye and his firm decision, did honor to his place as leader. He seemed to be everywhere at once, and his clear, loud voice was heard at all points. Here they tore up the pavement as he commanded; there they raised the large slabs of the sidewalk to arm the sides of the upturned wagons, which had to serve as bulwarks here, as well as in all places where time is pressing. Doors taken from their hinges, planks bridging over gutters, bags filled with sand, completed the strength of this structure, which rose with a rapidity proportionate to the feverish excitement that beat in all hearts. Every muscle, every sinew, was strained to the utmost; boys were carrying loads which ordinarily a man would have considered heavy; men who only knew how to use a pen suddenly seemed to be endowed with muscles of steel. Above all, however, a man in a worn-out velvet coat signalized himself by exploits in comparison with which all the rest seemed to be but the work of pigmies. Wherever anything was to be lifted or to be dragged which no one could master, they called laughingly for "Hercules"--the popular voice had given him the name after the first five minutes--and Hercules ran up, stretched out his mighty arms, or leaned his broad shoulders against it, and the immoveable mass seemed of a sudden to become a mere trifle.
"Bravo, Mr. Schmenckel!" said Oldenburg, patting the giant on the back; "but spare your strength; we shall need it all."
"Pshaw, your excellency, baron!" replied Mr. Schmenckel, wiping the perspiration from his face with his sleeve; "that is not anything."
"Hercules, here!" some one called.
"Coming!" replied Mr. Schmenckel, and hurried to where he was wanted.
"Now we want the best!" murmured Oldenburg, looking at what had been done and casting an inquiring glance at the roofs of the houses on both sides of the barricade, where men were busy taking off the slates and tiles as he had directed. "If Berger does not bring arms all our work is for nothing."
Just then Berger came with five or six young men. Each of them had a rifle. Others were dragging along a large bag filled with ammunition.
Berger, who had anticipated the revolution for several days and made his preparations in his mind, knew all the gunsmiths and shops where arms were kept in the whole neighborhood. He had taken possession of the nearest. A shout of joy arose when the little troop reached the barricade. Soon after an old fowling-piece and a rusty gun with an old-fashioned flint-lock were brought up, and last of all four pistols from the lodgings of a couple of officers which had been luckily discovered. The arms were at once distributed, and every man had his post assigned him. Every armed man had another man by him to load. In the kitchen, in the basement of an adjoining house, bullets were cast under the direction of an old one-eyed man who was an old soldier; and boys, merry storm-petrels of every barricade-fight, were appointed to carry the balls to the defenders.
The quarter of an hour which Oldenburg had allowed as the longest time that could be given to the erection of the barricade was out, and the very next moment showed how accurately he had calculated. The rifles had but just been loaded and the men had taken their places when a battalion of infantry came marching up the street. A major rode at the head. He ordered "Halt!" at some distance from the barricade, and rode up alone till within a few yards. He was an old, gray-haired soldier with a good-natured face, who evidently did not like the duty he had to fulfil. His voice sounded wavering, and trembled a little as he raised it as high as he could, and said,
"You, there! I must get through here with my men; and if you do not take that thing there out of my way willingly, I shall have to use force. I should be sorry, for your sake, to have to do so."
Oldenburg appeared on the barricade.
"In the name of these men!" he said, raising his hat politely to the major, "I declare that we are determined to stand by each other, and to hold this barricade as long as we can!"
Oldenburg's appearance and his words evidently made an impression on the old soldier.
"You are the leader of these men?"
"I have that honor."
"You seem to be an intelligent man. Then you must see that that thing there is of no avail, and that your few charges cannot possibly do you any good. Pull that thing down; it is all right."
"I am sorry I cannot comply with your request, and must adhere to my resolution."
"Well, then," said the major, more annoyed than angry, "you will all go to the devil."
With these words he turned his horse and galloped back to his men.
Oldenburg was glad when the conversation was at an end. His quick eye had showed him that the kindly words of the major had not failed to make an impression on the crowd, and that more than one looked undecided and doubtful. In a mass of people enthusiasm effervesces quickly. He turned round and said:
"If there is one among you who had rather live for country and liberty than die for them, he had better say so now. It is time yet!"
The men stood motionless and silent. Many a heart no doubt beat painfully, but every one felt that the die was cast, and that it would be disgraceful treason to turn back now.
The drums beat on the opposite side, and the terrible summons drove every hesitation out of their hearts.
Oldenburg cried, with a voice which drowned the rattling of the drums like loud trumpet-sound: "Every man to his post! Not a shot before I give the sign! Not a stone must move!"
Oldenburg remained standing on the top of the barricade and saw the column approaching at quick-step; in the centre the drummers, and the major, who commanded with his sepulchral voice,
"Battalion! Halt! Aim! Fire!"
The flash came; the balls hailed upon the barricade and the walls of the houses.
"Shoulder arms! March!"
"Hurrah!" cried the men, rushing with charged bayonets upon the barricade.
"Hurrah!" cried Oldenburg, still standing on the barricade and waving his hat.
And the rifles of the little garrison gave fire, and the stones came down rattling from the roofs upon the heads of the unlucky soldiers; and when the smoke and the dust slowly blew away, the company which had come up in military regularity was seen running away in wild flight, and before them a riderless horse, and between them little groups of three or four men who carried dead or wounded men on litters beyond the reach of the barricade.
Of the men of the people only one had been wounded, and not by a hostile ball; the old, rusty flint-lock had burst at the first discharge, and a piece of it had struck the head of one of the marksmen. This accident only increased the good humor of the company. They cried hurrah! they congratulated each other, they laughed, they joked, and everybody was in the best of humor.
There was perhaps but one man behind the barricade who did not share the general joy, and this man was Oldenburg. He was as fully convinced as any one that fight they must, but he doubted a happy issue. He had been in Paris during the month of February; he had fought there; and he could not but see the difference. There he had seen a people fully conscious of the weakness of the government against which they rose, and clearly understanding the whole situation; here he found nothing but uncertainty, divided opinions, and doubts. But the genius of mankind does not always require a clear, perfect understanding in its defenders; a vague impulse, a dim perception even, leads often to glorious deeds. These harmless men, knowing little of politics, and quite willing to rest content with very small concessions, might be fighting only against the brutal rule of a single caste, and not for the free republic of the future; but great effects could not fail to be obtained even here, and he who cuts off a diseased limb may by it save the whole body.
Thus Oldenburg tried to console himself for the fears with which the appearance of this revolution had inspired him. He had been on the square near the palace when the fatal two shots fell which were destined to be the signal for the explosion, and when the troops had made their first attacken masseagainst the unarmed multitude. He and other good men had in vain tried to stop the shedding of blood; they had pushed their way through the soldiers at the risk of their lives in order to explain to the commanding officer the madness of such a butchery. But all they had heard in reply was open scorn, and at best rude orders to mind their own business. When Oldenburg saw that he could not be of any use in this way, and that matters had come to a crisis, he had tried to reach Melitta's lodgings in Broad street to place her and the children in safety. But he had been compelled to make a wide circuit, for the troops had already taken possession of all the approaches from the side of the palace, and he barely escaped more than once being arrested. Thus it happened that he reached the hotel only at the moment when the people were deliberating whether they should offer resistance or not Oldenburg took only time to inquire at the hotel after Melitta, where he heard to his delight that she and the children had already gone early in the morning to Doctor Braun's, who lived in a remote suburb, to which theémeutewas not likely to extend. Then he had thrown himself heart and soul into the torrent of the revolution.
And now he stood, after the first attack had been successfully repulsed, with crossed arms on the barricade, in a sheltered position, from which he could overlook at once the movements of the enemy and the space behind the barricade, anxiously awaiting the return of Berger, whom he had sent out with a patrol to procure if possible more ammunition, and to establish a communication with the nearest barricades. For so far the rising was without any organization; no concerted plan to produce united efforts; every barricade was fighting by itself. Besides, day-light began to fade away, and night, although it might leave the troops in doubt as to the strength of the enemy, also tended to increase the confusion on the side of the people, which is always an element of weakness in popular risings. Berger returned soon afterwards, bringing a few more guns but no comfort. The adjoining streets, he reported, were also barricaded; but the barricades were badly constructed, and held by too few men, especially the nearest one, in Brother street.
"I do not think they can hold it long," he added, "and then we are lost, because the troops can flank us here through this narrow alley"--and he pointed to Gertrude street, which passed by the hotel and led from Broad street into Brother street. "We must necessarily stop up that street also and occupy it, which can easily be done. I have directed Oswald and Schmenckel to do it at once."
"Whom?" inquired Oldenburg, who had no suspicion that Oswald could be here, and thought he had misunderstood Berger.
But he had not time to wait for Berger's reply, for at that moment the drums beat once more, and the second company came up to storm the barricade. This time the major on his white horse was not there. The old man, who had been dangerously wounded in the head by a ball, was on his way to the hospital.
The second attack was more serious, although no more successful than the first. The captain in command gave the order to fire three times in rapid succession, and then rushed his men with great violence upon the barricade. But as Oldenburg and his men had again reserved their fire till the last moment, the loss was very great for the attacking party; upon whom, moreover, such a storm of bullets, tiles, and stones rained down from the adjoining houses that they once more retreated, carrying their dead and wounded with them.
But this time the men of the people also had their losses. A young man who had imprudently exposed himself was shot through the breast and died instantly, while another had his arm shattered by a ricochet ball.
Thus the men of the barricade had had their blood baptism, and now only they felt as if they were indissolubly bound to the cause of the revolution. Men who had seen each other to-day for the first time shook hands and pledged themselves not to leave each other till death should part them forever. Women, who ordinarily went out of their way to avoid meeting common people, now went about among the fighting men and distributed bread and wine. Among these gentle Samaritans one was especially remarkable by her stately appearance and her venerable gray hairs. It was Mrs. Black, who found ample opportunity to-night to gratify her passion for feeding the hungry and nursing the sick.
Oldenburg now suggested what he had learnt in Paris to be eminently useful under such circumstances: that lights should be placed in all the windows which looked upon the barricade, so as to improvise a brilliant illumination, to which the full-moon, shining bright and clear on the blue sky, contributed generously. It was a strange contrast: the sacred peace high up in the heavenly regions, and down here a city raging in the fever of revolution, where the howling of alarm-bells and the thunder of cannon, the rattling of small arms and the mad cries of the combatants, were horribly mingled with each other. And to make the appalling scene still more so, low, hot clouds of smoke came now floating slowly over the roofs of the houses. Fire had broken out at several places at once; the city was threatened with a universal conflagration! Who had time to-night to help and to save?
Oldenburg looked for Berger but could not see him anywhere. He wanted to ask what he had meant when he spoke of Oswald, for he now recollected having caught a glimpse of a man who had reminded him somewhat of Oswald Stein. But just then loud cries were heard from Gertrude street, and a few shots fell. Oldenburg, fearing the troops might have taken the barricade in Brother street and were pushing on through Gertrude street, rapidly collected a handful of men and with them rushed down into that street. Here a surprise had been in contemplation, and the danger had only been averted by Schmenckel's giant strength and by the heroic bravery of Berger and Oswald.
Oswald had joined the barricade-builders in Gertrude street in order to avoid Oldenburg, whom he had seen to his great surprise first on the steps of the hotel in the midst of the excited crowd, and then as captain on top of the barricade. He felt it impossible to meet just now the man whom he had at one time revered as a superior being, and at another time hated as his bitterest enemy. He did not wish to renew the contest between such feelings in his own heart; he was so weary, weary unto death! The excitement around him felt to him like a song rocking him to sleep with his weary sick heart, and when he heard the first bullets whistle around him during the attack upon the barricade where he then was, his only thought was: Oh, that one of them were intended for me!
He said so much to Berger, as they were sitting on the barricade in Gertrude street to rest for a moment from their exhausting efforts.
"No," replied Berger; "that is not right. Death itself does not pay our bills; it only tears them, without paying them, and throws the fragments at the feet of the creditor. But death in the cause of liberty!--it pays them all."
He seized Oswald's hand, looking around anxiously to see that no one could hear them.
"I am afraid of life, Oswald! Death is a fearful asylum, in which one may awake again! Suicide is such a death to me, Oswald. If that were not so I should long since have died by my own hand. For it is easier to die, in order to escape from ourselves, than to live for others. I have found that out. I have drunk the bitter cup, and the dregs are very bitter. Oswald! at first I had courage enough, and lived bravely; but after six months of such life my courage is gone and my strength exhausted. My nerves cannot bear it any longer. That is why I feel so joyfully this day, on which the people have at last shaken off their disgraceful apathy to rise in their might. If I could die to-day for this people, whom now for the first time in my life I find not to be contemptible any more--Oswald! it would be such good fortune as I had never expected. And then," he continued, after a pause, "another piece of good fortune has befallen me to-day. I have met again my oldest enemy, whom I hated most bitterly, and my youngest and most beloved friend."
He pressed Oswald's hand, who said, smiling:
"Found your oldest enemy? was that fortunate?"
Berger told Oswald in a few words of his meeting with Count Malikowsky that morning, and that Schmenckel, who had helped them gloriously in building up the barricade, was Prince Waldenberg's father. "The low-born man the father of a prince, the prince the son of a low-born man--that would make a nice novel," he said with a grim smile.
"Perhaps I can give you a companion-story to yours," answered Oswald; and he informed Berger of the discoveries he had made that day with regard to his own birth. "That is strange!" said Berger; "very strange! And did you not tell me you loved Helen?"
"More than my life!"
"And you refused all that splendor to remain faithful to your old flag?"
Oswald shook his head.
"No, Berger!" he said; "I am not good and great enough for that, as you think in your goodness and greatness. She could never be mine. Too many things had happened that could never be forgiven and forgotten. I had preferred others to her, and she had preferred another man to me. That Prince Waldenberg was her betrothed."
"Why do you saywas?"
"Because I found them leaving town. She had recollected at the last moment that she had a heart in her bosom whose longing not all the riches of the world could satisfy."
"Strange! strange!" murmured Berger. "You, both of you: the baron's son who makes common cause with the people, and the low-born man's son who sits among princes, are rivals for the favor of the same lady! And she rejects you because she has no suspicion of your noble birth, and she accepts the prince because she thinks that the same blood flows in his veins, of which he is so proud! What a pity the world does not know this and must not know it! They might possibly find out then what the difference is between noble blood and common blood!"
"You, at all events, do not seem to value the difference quite as much as formerly. I can remember the time when you thought it morally impossible to be the friend of a nobleman."
"You allude to my friendship with Oldenburg," said Berger, calmly. "I tell you, Oswald, if there ever was a man who deserved to be loved and honored, Oldenburg is that man. If any man could ever have reconciled me with the world, Oldenburg would have been that man. If I ever could humble myself before any man and acknowledge him to be my lord and master, that man is Oldenburg. I know you hate him because the woman whom you have forsaken thinks more of him than of the whole world. That is not fair, Oswald. Oldenburg has also spoken of you like a friend. I should be very happy, Oswald, if you could be reconciled with each other before I leave you forever."
"My turn comes first!" said Oswald. "Do you know what you once told me in Grunwald? 'You will die before me,' you said, 'for the Big Serpent is tough of life, and you are too soft, far too gentle for this hard world.'"
"That was long ago. This last year has made the Big Serpent dull and feeble. But what is that?"
A noise, coming from a low restaurant with steps leading up from the basement, made both men jump up from their seats. They seized their arms and hurried, followed by other men of the same barricade, to the place, where now several shots were fired. These were the same shots which Oldenburg had heard when he was roused from his effort to seek rest on his barricade in Broad street.
Albert Timm had stopped, after his violent altercation with Oswald, looking after his faithless friend and laughing so loud and so bitterly that the passers-by had looked at him in surprise. Then he had hurried away in another direction, murmuring violent words, gnashing his teeth, and shaking his hands at imaginary enemies. Albert Timm was savage, and from his point of view he had reason to be furious. He was in a desperate position. The debts he had left behind him in Grunwald and elsewhere were not particularly pressing--he was great in bearing such burdens!--but the small sum he had brought with him to town was at an end; and even if that could be borne, all his bright prospects for a brilliant future had been suddenly blown to the winds and burst like a many-colored soap bubble.
Cursing the world and himself, he had thus walked through several streets before he reached that part of town where the rising was general. He delighted in it not because he had any sympathy with the cause of the people or liberty, but because he felt instinctively that in such times, where all is turned upside down, he--the man without a home, the adventurer--could lose nothing, and possibly gain much. This thought restored to him his full elasticity. He hurrahed merrily with the crowd, he chimed in with the cry: To arms! to arms! and had real pleasure in finding the excitement growing apace as he came nearer the place of his destination, the Dismal Hole. Thus he reached Broad street just at the moment when Oswald and Berger approached it from the other side. He noticed both, also Mr. Schmenckel, who had come by appointment to have an interview with Berger. By no means desirous to be seen by his enemies he slipped aside, and was about to creep into Gertrude street when some one seized hold of his coat. When he looked around he found himself face to face with his friend and patron, Jeremy Goodheart.
"Well, how did matters go?" asked the detective, who had in the meantime become Timm's friend, and was fully initiated in his intrigues.
"All up!" sighed Timm, angrily. "Lost my labor and my trouble! All up! I could roast the two rascals!" He pointed at Oswald and Schmenckel.
"Hem, hem!" said the policeman. "You must tell me that at leisure. Come to Rose; but let us first hear what the mad professor has to say."
"Do you know him?" asked Timm.
"Hush! We know him. Deceived people!--all right! To arms!--excellent! Just wait!--we'll catch you! And there comes the tall baron, who makes such revolutionary speeches at the election meetings! Why, there is the whole nest of them!--build barricades!--hurrah! Bravo!--hurrah! All men to the barricades! Hurrah!" cried the detective, and waved his hat with admirably feigned enthusiasm. Then he seized Timm by the arm and said: "Now we must get away quickly or the fellows will shut us up here with their barricade."
The two companions crept down Gertrude street and disappeared in the Dismal Hole.
Mrs. Rose Pape received them with unusual cordiality.
"Well, darlings, do you come with full purses? Have you got it, eh?
"Hush!" said the detective, "and bring us beer; we can't stop."
"Without telling me how the----?" said the worthy matron indignantly, and made with her thumb and her forefinger the motion of counting money.
Mr. Timm shrugged his shoulders in reply, and pulled out the empty pockets of his trousers.
Mrs. Pape was of choleric nature, and the failure of such magnificent expectations filled her with just indignation, to which she gave vent in a flood of oaths and vile invectives, some of which were aimed at the detective. "But I will pay Schmenckel, with his big paunch," she said. "Let him come here again and have no money to pay for his beer; I'll show him home, the old rascal!"
At that moment the firing was heard as the troops charged the barricade in Broad street; and almost immediately afterwards a great noise was heard at the windows. They began building the barricade which was to close up Gertrude street. The detective and Timm, who looked stealthily out at the window, saw Oswald, Berger, Schmenckel, and other men, hard at work. They withdrew, following their landlady to the remoter depths of the basement.
"That is a charming trap," said the detective. "We are hemmed in on all sides, and if they find us here the rascals will kill us."
"It is not quite so bad as that," said the woman. "I can get you out safely. Come along."
She led the two men through the last room and a hidden door down a few steps into a deep cellar, which was used as a store-room. On the wall a thin little gas-flame was burning. The woman screwed it up.
"Now," she said, "you go through that door!"--she pointed out an iron door on the opposite side; "then you get into a narrow court-yard; keep to the left, and thus you can get through my brewer's house into Brother street. Good-by!"
"Is it always open? asked Timm, when he found the iron door was not locked.
"Only to-day," replied Rose; "we expect more beer that way. The fellows are like sponges to-day."
When the two gentlemen had safely passed through the door, the little court-yard, and the brewery, into the space above the barricade in Brother street, they stopped and looked at each other. The same thought was uppermost in the mind of both.
"What a mousetrap this would be!" said Timm.
"If you will lend a hand," said the detective, "you can make sure of the president. We want people like you. I have already spoken about you to the old man."
"And that would avenge us, too, on the rascals."
"The thing is not free from danger, though," said the policeman.
"Faint heart never won fair lady," said Timm. "I confess I like the idea of catching my good friends in this funny way. If you do not choose to undertake it I'll do it alone."
"Well, then, come!" said the detective. "We'll see if the military are disposed to look at it as we do."
And the two men advanced boldly upon the colonel, who was waiting on horseback at some little distance surrounded by his officers, and furious at the obstinate resistance of the two barricades in Broad street and Gertrude street, which he had been ordered to take by storm.
* * * * *
When Mrs. Rose had helped her friends out and returned to the public rooms she found there Mr. Schmenckel, with ten or twelve other men from the barricades, who wished to refresh themselves after their fatigue. They were mostly old customers of the locality, the same men with long beards and dishevelled locks who had been in the habit of meeting here to condemn the "rotten condition of the state," the "hateful police," and the "brutalized soldiery." Mr. Schmenckel had always been highly respected by these people, and now, when they had seen that he could not only speak boldly but also act courageously, he became the hero of the day.
Under these circumstances Mrs. Rose deemed it more prudent not to carry out her resolution, and to leave the waiting upon the barricade men to pretty Lisbeth while she herself took her accustomed seat at the bar.
Pretty Lisbeth was very fond of Mr. Schmenckel, whose gallantry was universal. She had overheard part of the conversation between her mistress, Timm, and Goodheart, and their leaving through the back-door had roused her suspicions. She thought she ought to tell her admirer what she had seen, especially as she liked to show him what a false pussy-cat Mrs. Rose was--a fact of which she had often tried to convince him in vain. Schmenckel at once appreciated the importance of her communications. If there was a door in the basement which led into Brother street, and if Timm and Goodheart, whom Schmenckel by no means trusted, knew this door, then it was most assuredly very expedient to see if that door was carefully locked.
Schmenckel let Lisbeth go, and told the men at his table what he had heard. They all were of opinion that a reconnoissance ought to be made at once. But at the very moment when the men took up their arms and turned to the door which led into the store-room in question, the door was opened from the other side and a troop of soldiers rushed in, Albert Timm and the detective in their midst.
The sudden appearance of the shining helmets and guns, and the firing which began instantly, though fortunately quite at random, filled some of the barricade men with such terror that they rushed helter skelter up the steps and fled into the street. Here they were met by Oswald and Berger, who had been attracted by the firing, and now came to Schmenckel's assistance, who had until now alone contended with the soldiers.
Schmenckel had seized one of the guns which had just been fruitlessly discharged, and attacked the invaders, first with the butt end, and when this was broken with the iron barrel, so powerfully that two or three were lying disabled on the floor, and the others were retiring panic-struck through the back door. There, however, they met their advancing comrades, and this caused a fearful confusion, especially as Oswald, Berger, Schmenckel, and the other men, who had recovered from their surprise, now also pressed down into the half-lighted rooms and engaged in a terrible conflict.
The attacking party was perhaps half as strong again as their enemies, and better armed; but these advantages were offset by Berger's and Oswald's impetuous valor, and the gigantic strength of Schmenckel. The powerful man wielded his terrible weapon indefatigably, and not a blow fell in vain upon the heads of the unfortunate soldiers. Thus he cut his way to the door which led into the court-yard, at which he met several escaping soldiers, while others were eagerly crowding after them. And now he had attained his end. Seizing with his irresistible arms a few of the men hemmed in between the door and the door-frame, and pulling them down into the store-room, he closed the heavy iron door, pushed the strong iron bar across, leaned his broad back against it, and cried, whirling his gun-barrel in a circle around him.
"Now we have gotten our sheep together, professor! No one can get out or in any more. Caspar Schmenckel will see to that."
The horror had reached its crisis. In the narrow badly-lighted room, under-ground and reeking with mould and blood, men fought like wild beasts. The soldiers defended themselves desperately; but as their friends could only thunder at the inner door without coming to their assistance, the result was not long doubtful. The butchery, however, might have continued for some time if Oldenburg had not come down with part of his men from the barricade. He threatened to shoot down instantly every man who should not at once lay down his arms. The soldiers, deprived of all hope of succor, surrendered, and entered one by one from the lower room into the drinking saloon, where they were disarmed. The poor fellows presented a piteous sight There was not one of them who was not seriously wounded. Their bright uniforms in rags, out of breath, pale with fright and exhaustion, stained with blood and dust and dirt--thus they stood there surrounded by the barricade men, who likewise bore the marks of a severe conflict. But the low cellar contained greater horrors than these. When lights were brought two bodies were seen lying lifeless in their blood, a soldier and a civilian. The soldier had in his wild flight thrown himself upon his own bayonet, which pierced him through and through, and no doubt had killed him instantly. The civilian had received a terrible cut across the head. He was still groaning as they carried him up stairs, but he also died in a few minutes. At first they thought it was one of the barricade men, but no one knew him. Oswald also approached the table on which he had been laid, and after having examined the distorted countenance for a moment, he saw to his indescribable horror that the stiff bleeding corpse was all that remained of the Merry Andrew, the inexhaustible clown and punster, his boon companion of so many a wild night, the same man from whom he had parted in anger and hatred a few hours ago--Albert Timm.
During the next hour a pause occurred in the fight near the barricade in Broad street. The regiment of the line, which had charged it five times in vain, had been reinforced by several battalions of the Guards who had been fighting in King street, and successfully taken several barricades. These troops followed different tactics; they did not advance in close columns, but in small detachments on both sides of the street, as much as possible under cover, and keeping apart till they could form once more close before the barricade. But if their losses were smaller, their success was by no means greater. The besieged systematically saved their fire till the last moment, and then fired so coolly at the right moment, that the position seemed to be simply impregnable. In fact the firing on the part of the troops had ceased for some time, and the men behind the barricade could rest awhile.
They needed it sadly. Mostly entirely exhausted, blackened with powder, all more or less dangerously wounded, they sat and lay about in small groups, strangely lighted up by the red light of the watch-fires that had been kindled in the middle of the street, by the white glare of the candles in the windows, and the pale rays of the full moon, which was still gliding gently and silently through the blue ether above. Amid the groups of fighting men, women and girls were seen bringing provisions from the neighboring houses. There was no lack of beer, and wine even, and it looked as if here and there too much had been distributed. At least every now and then sudden shouts and yells were heard from one or the other group, after which the deep silence became all the more oppressive. Upon a cask which formed part of the barricade sat Oldenburg; his long legs were hanging down, and he blew thick clouds of smoke from his cigar. His air was that of a man who has assumed a serious responsibility and is determined to carry out what he has undertaken. He did not doubt for a moment that the barricade would be taken, and that he would fall at the head of his men; but this was the last thing he thought of. To die in a good cause had no terrors for him. Oldenburg actually fancied he felt a faint desire for death in his heart. Had he not seen how the sweet hope of at last calling Melitta his own had been recently put off once more, and further than ever? He could not blame her that the memory of her fondness for Oswald was weighing her down like an Alp, and made it impossible to her to raise her eyes boldly to a better and more faithful man; but the very fact that he could not but honor her for the feeling which parted them made him so very hopeless and helpless. He had often and often repeated to himself the word that Melitta spoke so touchingly whenever she saw him sorrowful: Patience! But in vain! He was consumed by impatience, by his inability to do anything else for his happiness than to fold his hands in his lap and to wait with trusting heart for something vague and uncertain.
Just then the revolution had broken out and Oldenburg breathed more freely, as thousands with him. Every one had borne some intolerable burden, which he now hoped to shake off. Oldenburg was glad that Melitta was not present. He had at the very beginning sent her word through old Baumann to stay at her safe place of refuge. When he sent the old man to her he thought in his heart: We meet again happier or never more! He now only wished for Oswald to fight by his side for liberty and for Melitta. The issue might then be an ordeal, and Melitta crown the victorious survivor.
And his wish was fulfilled. For an hour Oswald had been fighting by his side like a man who prefers death to life. Wherever a defective part of the barricade had to be repaired under the fire of the enemy, wherever danger was most threatening, there Oswald was sure to be; and as Oldenburg also chose the most exposed positions, the two men were constantly side by side. But as soon as the danger was over Oswald withdrew, and Oldenburg did not follow him as his withdrawing was evidently intentional. And yet the noble man was anxious, now that every hour might be their last, to tell his former friend that they ought to forget the past and join the hands that were on both sides engaged in a great and holy cause.
Oldenburg's eyes followed Oswald, as he went to his post, at some little distance from him, and stood there, rifle in hand, near Berger, by the watch-fire. In the changeful light their forms now stood forth brightly, and now were lost in the dark shade. This lent them something strange, almost supernatural. Oldenburg could not help thinking of the spirits who beckon to the ferryman on the banks of the Acheron.
He rose and went up to them.
"What do you think, gentlemen," he said; "are we going to be left alone long?"
"I believe," said Oswald, "they are either short of ammunition or they have sent for reinforcements."
"I think that is more likely. What do you think, Berger?"
Berger had been standing there, his arms crossed, and his large eyes fixed immoveably upon the flames. Suddenly he stretched out his hands and said, in a hollow, spectre-like tone of voice,
"Listen! They are coming! The earth trembles beneath them! How they whip their horses, who are tired dragging more and more weapons against the people! Now they alight! And now they cram the iron mouths full to bursting. We will----"
"Berger!" said Oldenburg, placing his hand on his arm.
Berger started like one who is suddenly roused from a heavy dream. He looked around in confusion.
"What is it?" he asked, staring at Oldenburg.
"You are exhausted by excessive efforts, Berger. Lie down for an hour. I will have you called when you are needed."
"Exhausted?" said Berger, relapsing into his dreamy state. "Yes; exhausted unto death. But that is why an hour is not enough; when I go to sleep, it must be an eternal sleep."
At that moment Schmenckel stepped up, who had been on guard upon the barricade, and said,
"There is something very peculiar going on. I believe they are going to give us artillery now."
Berger started up.
"Did I not tell you?" he cried. "The decisive hour has come. Up! up! you brave men; all of you! One more merry dance with the weird fairies of life, and then to unbroken rest in the cool night of death. Up! up!"
At this call some of the men rose from their resting-places near the fire, seized their arms, and hastened with Berger to their posts. Others remained where they were and laughed at the false alarm. But they also were quickly enough upon their feet when an explosion came which shook the houses to their foundations, and grape and canister came rattling against the barricade and the faces of the houses.
"Now they are in earnest," said Oldenburg, turning to Oswald. But the place where Oswald had been standing was empty.
"He avoids me," said Oldenburg, sadly, "and yet my conscience is quiet. I have no reproach to make to myself as far as he is concerned."
He hastened to the barricade, where the captain's presence was more needed than ever.
The first gun, which had opened the dance, was now joined by three more, and the thunder came almost uninterruptedly, and with it the iron hail. There was no doubt they wanted to make a break in the barricade, and then charge once more with better result. Oldenburg, not wishing to expose the lives of his men unnecessarily, had given orders that they should keep as much as possible under cover, and not return the fire of the enemy, but save every shot for the moment of the charge itself. He had also doubled the number of men with stones on the house-tops. Finally he chose from among the men who had shown most bravery a select corps, which was to fall upon the attacking party and engage them till the others should have had time to seek shelter behind the barricades in the adjoining streets.
Oldenburg had just given his directions when battery opened a most terrific fire and then suddenly became silent.
One moment all was perfectly still.
Perfectly still, and then the iron clang of twenty drums beating the charge. And with every beat the column drew nearer, a living wall, apparently irresistible in its approach.
Not a sound on the barricade. Up on the roofs stand men and boys, with heavy stones in their hands; in the windows of the houses, and near the openings in the barricade, the marksmen are watching, with their rifles close to the eye.
And the drums beat and the living wall comes nearer. Already one can distinguish the handsome uniform of the Guards; one can see the beardless faces of the men, and the black-bearded countenance of the gigantic officer who leads the attack. And now the officer gives a command, drowned in the beating of the drums; and as he waves his bright sword the men cheer, and with three hurrahs they rush forward. But before they reach the barricade twenty rifles are discharged, and hundreds of stones are hurled down from above upon the living wall, and it wavers and trembles like a huge wave in the ocean which dashes its foam-crested waters against a rocky coast.
Nevertheless it rolls on, and now it breaks against the barricade. The officer pulls out huge pieces. Nothing, it seems, can resist his gigantic strength. But suddenly a man in a worn-out velvet coat, who wields as his only weapon a rifle-barrel without the stock, leaps down and faces the officer. When the officer sees the man he starts back as if struck by lightning, and roars to his men: "Halt! Halt!"
They halt.
The men of the barricade avail themselves of this pause and fire once more. The officer falls dead, face foremost; with him half a dozen men fall, more or less dangerously wounded. A panic seizes the troops. The officers try in vain to lead them to the attack.
The barricade is safe once more; they cheer again and again; they embrace each other with tears of joy in their eyes. But they have paid dearly for their victory. While part of the men repair the barricade, which is half destroyed, another part is busy with the dead and wounded. The man in the velvet coat brings up the corpse of a man, who has fought like a hero in the front rank, and who has fallen by his side, pierced with the enemy's bayonets.
Oldenburg comes up to help them.
"Is he dead?"
"Yes."
They place him on the ground near one of the fires. The pale face is so quiet, so peaceful, and a gentle, happy smile plays about the pale lips.
Oldenburg looks over to Oswald, who is kneeling on the other side, of the body. He is startled. The young man's countenance is as pale as that of the dead man, and his eyes glare like those of a madman.
"Great God, Oswald! are you wounded?"
"I am afraid I am," replies Oswald, and sinks down by the side of Berger's body.