undergone, and the agony in store for them if the city should persist in
its resistance.

"Who will dare to resist the Emperor Napoleon and his army?" exclaimed
one. "We were audacious enough to do so, and what has become of us! Our
houses have been demolished--our money is gone--our sons, brothers, and
fathers, have been crippled or killed! When Napoleon once stretches out
his hand toward a country, and says, 'I will have it!' it is useless to
resist him, for he always accomplishes what he intends. God or the devil
has given him the power to do so!"

"Why torment ourselves by further efforts?" cried another. "We shall
have to submit. Heaven itself is against us. See the ice-crust on the
Oder. This cold weather is a fresh ally of the French! So soon as the
Oder and the ditches are firmly frozen over, they will cross, and take
the city by assault. Of course, we shall be required again to risk our
lives in breaking the ice amid bullets and shells. The only question is,
whether you will do so."

"No! no!" shouted the crowd. "We have suffered enough! We will neither
break the ice in the Oder, nor extinguish the numerous fires. Too many
of our countrymen have fallen already; it is time for us to think of
saving the lives that remain!"

"No!" cried a powerful voice--"no! it is time for you to think of saving
your honor!"

"Count Pueckler!" murmured the people, looking at the tall, imperious
man, who had mounted the curb-stone at the corner of the market-place,
and cast angry glances on the crowd.

"Will you listen to me?" asked the count, almost imploringly.

"Yes, yes," exclaimed a hundred voices, "we will listen to you!" And all
approached and encircled him.

"Now speak, count," said one of the men, standing closest to him. "We
know that you are a good patriot, and a noble friend of the people. Tell
us what we ought to do. Tell us whether you think that there is hope for
us!"

"There is," replied Count Pueckler. "There is hope of succor."

"Ah, succor will not come," cried the people, scornfully, "and though it
should, the generals would act again as if they could not see any thing,
keep the gates shut, and fail to make a sortie. Speak of other hopes
that you think are still left to us, count!"

"Well, there is the hope that the weather will relax--that the Oder and
the ditches will not freeze, and that the enemy, consequently, will be
unable to cross them. By bombardment alone Breslau cannot be taken. Our
for