ling and whining, they fled back again into the town, in order at
least to bury their treasures, and hold themselves in readiness to
meet the victor, whoever he might be, with flags of peace and hymns of
welcome.

But before they had reached their houses, bombs had commenced to fly
into the town, and here and there mortar-shells were heard whizzing
through the air; with the cries of the flying and the wounded, and
the screams of the dying, was now heard the moaning toll of the
alarm-bell, telling that to the terrors of the siege were added those
of the elements. Like gigantic torches of a funeral procession shone
the flames of the burning houses, and covered the heavens with crimson
as deep as the blood of those wounded unto death. At last night set
in, but brought no rest for the sick, no refreshment for the
weary. The fire-balls and bomb-shells still flew into the town, the
alarm-bells still continued their mournful toll, the burning houses
still flamed up to the sky; but yet the courage of the besieged did
not sink. They still held their ground intrepidly, and they still
bade an heroic defiance to the attacks of the enemy. In vain did the
Russians attempt to storm the gates, the brave defenders drove them
back again and again. Suddenly the cannon ceased firing, and the enemy
drew back.

"What is the meaning of this?" asked the combatants at the gates.

"The meaning is," said Gotzkowsky, who had just arrived from another
part of the town with a squad of his workmen--"the meaning is that
help is approaching. It means that God is on our side, and succors our
noble and righteous cause. The Prince of Wurtemberg has just arrived
from Pasewalk with his division, and General Huelsen is hastening
hither as rapidly as possible from Koswig."

The brave warriors received this news with a loud hurrah, and embraced
each other with tears in their eyes and thanksgiving in their hearts.

"We are saved!" cried they to each other; "Berlin will not be
surrendered, Berlin will be victorious, for help has arrived." And
then they sank down on the pavement, to rest for an hour on this hard
bed, after the fatigue of the fierce combat.

But Gotzkowsky could not rest. For him there was no leisure, no sleep;
neither was there any fear or danger for him. As he had left his
house, his daughter, and his riches unguarded, with the same unconcern
did he move among the rain of balls and the bursting of shells. He did
not think of death nor of