providence of the city. Supply a bit of
bread, if only as large as my hand, in addition to the meat, or--I love
my native land and liberty as well as any one--or--"

"Or?"

"Or--leave Death to reap his harvest, you are no physician."

Bontius bade his friend farewell and left him, but Peter thrust his
hand through his hair and stood gazing out of the window, until Barbara
entered, laid his official costume on a chair and asked with feigned
carelessness:

"May I give Adrian some of the last biscuit? Meat is repulsive to him.
He's lying on the bed, writhing in pain."

Peter turned pale, and said in a hollow tone: "Give it to him and call
the doctor. Maria and Bontius are already with him." The burgomaster
changed his clothing, feeling a thrill of fierce indignation against
every article he put on. To-day the superb costume was as hateful to him
as the office, which gave him the right to wear it, and which, until
a few weeks ago, he had occupied with a joyous sense of confidence in
himself.

Before leaving the house, he sought Adrian. The boy was lying in
Barbara's room, complaining of violent pains, and asking if he must die
too.

Peter shook his head, but Maria kissed him, exclaiming:

"No, certainly not."

The burgomaster's time was limited. His wife stopped him in the entry,
but he hurried down-stairs without hearing what she called after him.

The young wife returned to Adrian's bedside, thinking anxiously of the
speedy death of many comrades of the dear boy, whose damp hand rested
in hers. She thought of Bessie, followed Peter in imagination to the
town-hall, and heard his powerful voice contending for resistance to the
last man and the last pound of meat; nay, she could place herself by
his side, for she knew what was to come: To stand fast, stand fast for
liberty, and if God so willed, die a martyr's death for it like Jacoba,
Leonhard, and Peter's noble father.

One anxious hour followed another.

When Adrian began to feel better, she went to Bessie, who pale and
inanimate, seemed to be gently fading away, and only now and then raised
her little finger to play with her dry lips.

Oh, the pretty, withering human flower! How closely the little girl
had grown into her heart, how impossible it seemed to give her up!
With tearful eyes, she pressed her forehead on her clasped hands, which
rested on the head-board of the little bed, and fervently implored God
to spare and save this child. Again and again