market-place. The ammunition waggons
are opened. The first companies press forward to the same gate through
which, a few days before, the enemy had rushed into the city. The
struggle rages fiercely. In the assault the enemy are thrown back; but
fresh masses establish themselves in the houses of the suburb, and
contend for the entrances to the streets. Mutilated and severely
wounded men are carried back and laid down in the market-place, and
more than once the combatants have to be relieved. When the
inexperienced soldiers see their comrades borne back from the fight,
their faces blackened with powder, and covered with sweat and blood,
their courage sinks within them; but the officers, who are also for the
first time in close combat, spring forward, and "Forward, children! the
Fatherland calls!" sounds through the ranks. At one time the enemy
succeeded in storming the upper gate, but scarcely have they forced
their way into the first street leading to the market, when a company
of Landwehr throw themselves upon them with loud hurrahs, and drive
them out of the gate.[57]

The thunder roars; the fiery hail pierces through doors and windows;
the dead lie on the pavement and thresholds of the houses. Then any
citizen who has a manly heart can no longer bear the close air of his
hiding place. He presses close behind his fighting countrymen near to
the struggle. He raises the wounded from the pavement, and carries them
on his back either to his house or the hospital. Again the boys are not
among the last; they fetch water, and call at the houses for some drink
for the wounded whom they support; they climb up the ammunition waggons
and hand down the cartridges, proud of their work they are unconcerned
about the whistling bullets. Even the women rush out of the houses,
with bread in their aprons and full flasks in their hands; they may
thus do something to help the Fatherland.

The fight is over; the enemy driven back. In the warm sunshine a
sorrowful procession moves through the city--the imprisoned enemy
escorted by Cossacks. Hardheartedly do the troopers drive the weary
crowd; they are allowed only a short rest in the open place of the
suburb; the prisoners lie exhausted, weary and half fainting, in the
dust of the high road. It is the second day on which they have had
neither food nor drink; not once have their guards allowed them a drink
from brook or ditch; they have ill-treated the weary men with blows and
thrusts of t