And now it was a glorious sight to see how, in a few hours, the whole
city changed its appearance. As the night before had been full
of horrors and dread events, the next morning and day were like a
festival, the preparation to a great and solemn feast. Forty of the
largest and fattest oxen were slaughtered, to afford a strengthening
meal to those so much in need of nourishment. About mid-day, a strange
procession moved down the Koenig's Street and across the Palace Square.
And what was the meaning of it? It was not a funeral, for there were
no mourning-wreaths and no hearse; it was not a bridal procession,
for the bridal paraphernalia and joyous music were wanting. Nor did it
wend its way toward the church nor the churchyard, but toward the new
and handsome opera-house, recently erected by the king, whose gates
were opened wide to receive it. It looked like a feast of Bacchus at
one time, from the enormous tuns driven along; at another time like
a festival of Ceres, as in solemn ranks came the bakers bringing
thousands of loaves in large wagons. Then followed the white-capped
cooks, bringing the smoking beef in large caldrons. The rear was
finally brought up by the butlers, with large baskets of wine.

And the beautiful and resplendent temple of art was thrown open to the
reception of all these things, although they only served for material
nourishment, and in the magnificent hall in which formerly Frederick
the Great, with his generals and chosen friends, listened to the magic
strains of Gluck, there sounded now a wild confusion of discordant
cries. The butlers stood by the wine-casks, filling the bottles which
were carried out by the nimble and active _vivandieres_, and on the
same stage on which once Galiari and Barbarini, Ostroa and Sambeni
enchanted the public with their marvellous singing, were seen now
large caldrons of beef; and, instead of the singers, the performance
was conducted by cooks, who drew the meat out of the pots, and
arranged it neatly on enormous dishes. Gotzkowsky had attained his
object, and Berlin fed this day the exhausted and hungry troops of the
Prince of Wurtemberg. The merchant of Berlin had given his choicest
and best wines to the banquet of patriotism.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XII.

RUSSIANS AND AUSTRIANS.

After so many horrors and so many hours of anxiety, at last, on the
evening of the second day of the siege, a momentary suspension of
hostilit