n the ramparts were hastily
repaired, the bastions and inner defences of the gate itself were
strengthened, while large quantities of hand-grenades and other
ammunition were laid in readiness. Thus prepared, the citizens
confidently awaited the threatened attack, which, however, did not take
place, partly, it was supposed, because of a violent snow-storm that
came on, and partly through the failure of the mines. Scarcely had the
Swedish troops withdrawn in the evening, when the besieged made a
sortie, in which the miners cleared the moat of the rubbish that
encumbered it, and picked up a considerable number of cannon-balls,
which they carried into the town as valuable booty.

The Swedes maintained their fire throughout the whole of that evening,
and far into the night, to prevent the Freibergers from rebuilding
their fortifications; in the course of this firing a miner and a
forester were killed in the city, and several others among the
defenders severely wounded. On the next day, January 3d, the firing
was renewed with heavy siege-guns in addition to the lighter pieces,
and a second mine was sprung, making a breach seventy feet wide in the
city wall. As soon as this result had been achieved, the Swedes, to
the number of two hundred, delivered their first assault against the
Peter Gate. The fighting, however, only lasted about a quarter of an
hour, and ended in the complete repulse of the besiegers.

During the lull that followed, Juechziger arrived at the house of
Burgomaster Schoenleben, to announce that Colonel von Schweinitz wished
to speak with him, and requested his worship to come to him at once for
that purpose.

Juechziger's tone and look were carefully calculated to provoke the
Burgomaster's pride, and Schoenleben made a sign for the messenger to
withdraw. 'Am I his slave?' he broke out angrily, as soon as the man
was out of hearing. 'Have I not every bit as good a right to send for
him as he has to send for me? I will soon let him know which of us has
the best right to command here!'

But when the first heat of his anger had spent itself, quieter thoughts
began to prevail.

Schoenleben was at heart far too noble and conscientious a man to
sacrifice the welfare of a great city, entrusted to his keeping, to a
sense of his own offended dignity. 'One must not be too particular,'
he said to himself, 'about an affront from a rough old soldier; after
all, he may wish to speak about some matter of impo