own, and retired upon Spandau
with his regiments, feeling himself too weak to resist an enemy three
times his number. And furthermore, it was not aware that the Austrian
Count Lacy, who had already occupied Potsdam and Charlottenburg, with
his division of ten thousand men, would in a few hours be at the gates
of Berlin.

In serious consultation, in anxious and wavering expectation, the city
fathers were assembled in the town-hall, which they had not quitted
for two days. But, at this moment, a pause seemed to have occurred in
their deliberations, for both the chief burgomaster, Von Kircheisen,
and the aldermen were leaning back in their high, carved chairs,
in sleepy repose, contemplating the wax-lights in their silver
candelabras, which shed a dim and uncertain light into the more
distant parts of the hall. One or the other occasionally threw an
inquiring glance toward the door, and leaned forward as if to
listen. After a while, steps were heard in the antechamber, and the
countenances of the honorable members of the Council lighted up.

"At last he comes," said the chief burgomaster, raising himself with
an effort in his chair, and arranging the chain on his breast, which
had got a little out of order.

The door now opened, and the merchant Gotzkowsky entered.

He approached the assembly with a firm and hurried step. The light of
the candles shone upon his countenance, and in his pale, worn features
you could read the traces of the hardships, the efforts and dangers he
had undergone during the last two unfortunate days; only his eye still
shone with its mild and yet fiery glance, and in his breast there beat
still a brave and cheerful heart.

"Ye have called me, honorable gentlemen, and, as ye see, I have not
delayed in answering your call."

"Yes, we have summoned you," answered the chief burgomaster. "The
Council desire your advice."

A slight, mocking smile played about Gotzkowsky's lips. "It is not the
first time," he said, "that the Council have done me this honor."

Herr von Kircheisen plucked uneasily at his golden chain, and frowned.
Gotzkowsky's answer had wounded his pride. "Yes, you gave us your
advice yesterday, and it was only by your urgent appeal that we were
induced to feed and lodge the Prince of Wurtemberg's troops. We
might have spared ourselves the trouble, and our forty oxen remained
unslaughtered."

"The Prince of Wurtemberg has left us, I know," said Gotzkowsky,
sorrowfully, "and we