the landing of a
staircase, at the foot of which a small dim lamp was burning. Before
descending, he took off the mask that had covered his face, and the
cloak in which he had been wrapped, and, rolling them into a bundle, he
concealed it in a drawer fixed under the first step of the staircase,
and which was visible only to initiated eyes. In the flickering light of
the lamp the beholder might have discerned his tall, slender form, and
youthful countenance, whose manly expression contrasted with his long
golden hair. He hastened down-stairs, and crossed the hall into the
street. The noise had ceased, and nearly all the lights had burnt out.
As he turned a corner rapidly, he was attracted by a transparency. The
inscription, in large letters on a crimson ground, read: "_Gaeb's jetzt
noch einen Goettersohn, so waere es Napoleon_!"[41]

[Footnote 41: "If there were now a son of the gods, he would be
Napoleon."]

A flash of anger burst from the youth's eyes, and he raised his clinched
fist menacingly. "You miserable dogs," he said, in a low voice, "when
the true Germans come, you will hide yourselves in the dust!" He walked
rapidly until he reached a small house at the lower end of the street,
and softly entering, glided across the hall, cautiously ascended the
staircase, halted in front of a door up-stairs, and gently rapped. It
opened immediately, and a young woman of surpassing beauty appeared on
the threshold. "Oh, Frederick, is it really you?" she whispered,
embracing him. "You are mine again, beloved Frederick! You did not draw
the fatal lot! Heaven refused the sacrifice which you were ready to
make."

"It is so, Anna," said the young man. "But why do you weep, dearest? You
were formerly so courageous, and approved my determination to engage in
that desperate enterprise!"

She clasped her hands, lifting her large black eyes to heaven. "Abraham
was ready to sacrifice his son," she said, "but when his offering was
not accepted, he was thankful. Thus I also thank and praise God at this
moment!"

"Yes," said the young man, gloomily, "He rejected my offering, and for
the present I am free. I come to take leave of you, beloved Anna; I must
depart this very night."

"You are going to leave me!" she exclaimed in dismay. "Ah, you have
deceived me, then--you have drawn the fatal lot! You come to bid me
farewell, because you are to perpetrate the terrible deed!"

"No, Anna. I swear to you by our love I am free! I did no