oor.
Gotzkowsky raised his head, and his eyes sought his daughter. As he
perceived her, a gentle and pleased expression passed over his face,
and his brow grew clearer. He hastened to her and raised her in his
arms.

"Bless you, Elise, my child! for two days have I been nothing but
citizen and soldier; now at last I am permitted to remember that I
am a father. I had almost forgotten it during these wild sad days.
Good-evening, my darling child!"

Elise kissed his hand respectfully, and muttered a low welcome.

Gotzkowsky said in a gentle tone, "This is a comfort which makes me
forget all my sufferings. Come, my children, let us for one bright
hour put aside all care and trouble, and be happy and cheerful
together. Let us have breakfast. This poor, weak body needs
refreshment, for it reminds me that, for two days, I have been
living on prison fare, bread and water. Come, then, let us breakfast.
Bertram, sit by my side, and our sweet little housekeeper will help us
to coffee."

Elise rose with difficulty and gave the necessary orders to the
servants; and while the latter were hurrying to and fro, serving
up breakfast, Gotzkowsky reclined on the sofa, half asleep from
exhaustion; and Bertram and Elise sat opposite to each other in
silence. Suddenly there were heard in the distance wild yells, and
loud noises and cries. Then hasty steps flew up the staircase; the
hall door was pulled open, and a soldier rushed in. With breathless
haste he bolted the door behind him, threw off the white cloak which
concealed his figure, and the broad-brimmed hat which covered his
head, and sank with a loud sigh into a chair. Gotzkowsky hurried up to
him and looked at him attentively. Elise, with an instinctive feeling
of the danger which threatened Feodor, turned to the door behind which
he was hidden.

"The artilleryman, Fritz!" cried Gotzkowsky, with visible
astonishment.

"Yes, it is me," groaned the soldier. "Save me, Gotzkowsky; do not
deliver me up to these barbarians!"

Gotzkowsky laid his hand on his shoulder with a friendly smile. "I
would not betray the enemy himself, if he sought refuge in my house;
and you ask me not to betray the most valiant and renowned defender of
Berlin. Bertram, this man here, this simple cannoneer, has performed
miracles of valor, and earned for himself an enviable name in these
last unfortunate days. It was he who had charge of the only two cannon
Berlin possessed, and who, never tiring, withou