s he finds himself fighting against the
King. In the fight the rebels are defeated and my brother escapes.
Many are condemned and shot. Not knowing my heart, my mother writes to
me that my brother is at home.

"I lie in my bed, thinking--thinking. Many students have been shot for
treason. Love of King and fatherland, and desire to be Graf, are two
thoughts in my heart.

"I inform. My brother is arrested, and in fortress is he put to be
shot.

"Four of us students of patriotism go to see. My heart sinks to see my
brother, so white is he and fearless. His eyes are bright like fire,
and he stands so cool and straight.

"'I have nothing but love,' he says; 'I love the cause of truth and
justice. To kill me is not to kill the truth; where you spill my blood
will revolution grow, as flowers grow by water. I forgive.'

"Then he sees me. 'Hans!' he says, 'Hans!' He holds out his arms. 'I
want to kiss my brother,' he says. The general he says, 'All right.'

"But I love the King. 'No! I have no brother! I will not a traitor
kiss!'

"My Gott! how my brother looks! He looks already dead--so full of
sorrow is he.

"A sharp crack of guns! They chill my heart, and down dead falls my
brother.

"I go away, outside glad, but in my heart I feel burn the fires of
hell. Father and mother in one year die for sorrow. Then I am Graf.

"I desire to be of society, but society will not--it is cold. Guests
do not come to my table. Servants do not stay. They tell that they
hear my mother weep for sorrow in the night. I laugh at them, but in
my heart I know them true. Peasants in the village hide from me as I
come to them.

"But my mind is worse. Every night I hear the crack of the rifles--the
sound of the volley that was my brother's death. Soldiers I get, men
of the devil-dare kind, to stay with me. They do not come back; they
tell that they hear tramp, tramp, tramp of soldiers' feet.

"One night, with the soldiers, I take much wine, for I say, 'I shall
be drunk and not hear the guns at night.'

"We drink in our noble hall. Heavy doors are chained, windows barred,
draperies close arranged, and the great lamp burns dim. We drink, we
sing, we curse God und das Gesindel. 'We ourselves,' we say, 'are
gods.'

"Then creeps close the hour for the guns. My tongue is fast and cannot
move; my brow is wet, and frozen is my blood.

"Boom! go the guns; then thunder shakes the castle, lightning flashes
through draperies, and I fall as dead.