astened, as fast as his
aching and stiffened feet would permit, to the street contiguous to the
garden.

His wife waited until the departure of the carriage announced to her
that her husband had gone. At the same time the voices outside shouted
with redoubled fury, "Lombard! We want to see Lombard!" And their blows
thundered louder than ever at the door.

Mde. Lombard sighed; and, commending her body and soul to God, she
proceeded to comply with her husband's instructions, and went to the
balcony.

Lombard had prophesied correctly; profound silence ensued when the wife
of the cabinet counsellor appeared; hence, every one was able to
understand her words, and no sooner had she uttered them, than the crowd
dispersed, as her husband had told her.

"To the governor! Let us go to the governor!" they cried, as they moved
up the Linden; but they were attracted by a carriage, drawn by six fiery
horses at full gallop. It was the queen, who was about to leave the
capital. She looked even paler and sadder than before, and greeted her
friends on both sides with a heart-rending, melancholy smile. But they
had not time to greet even the queen, or to be surprised at her speedy
departure, as they rushed toward the house of the governor, Count
Schulenburg.

At his residence, also, the windows were covered up, and the gate of the
court-yard closed. But a large white handbill, containing a few lines in
gigantic letters, was posted on the side wall. Thousands of piercing
eyes were fixed on the paper, and an imperious demand was made to the
fortunate man who stood close to the handbill: "Read! Read aloud!"

"I will read it!" answered a loud, powerful voice. "Be quiet, so as to
be able to hear me!"

Profound silence reigned immediately, and every one heard distinctly
the words, which ran as follows:

"_The king has lost a battle. Quiet is the citizen's first duty. I
request all the inhabitants of Berlin to maintain good order. The king
and his brothers are alive_."

The vast multitude burst into a wail of despair; and when silence
ensued, every one seemed paralyzed and stared mournfully at his
neighbor. Suddenly the side-gate of the count's court-yard opened, and a
carriage, followed by a large baggage-wagon, made its appearance.

At first, the people timidly stepped back, and looked on wonderingly.
But no sooner had they recognized in it the governor of Berlin, Count
von Schulenburg-Kehnert--no sooner had they discovered that h