to write an article
about him in the _Vossian Gazette_. I have already gratified his
wish."

"You are mistaken," said Krause, mournfully. "I sent Pfannenstiel
into the streets, to quiet the people, and to admonish them to behave
peaceably and soberly, even if the Russians should come."

"Oh! you believe in all these dreams of Pfannenstiel?"

"I believe in the truth, and in what I know!" exclaimed Krause
emphatically. "Pfannenstiel has for a long time been my agent, and
for a considerable stipend, paid every month, informs me of all that
happens, is talked and thought of in the town. He is a very useful
man, peculiarly suited to this service."

"The approach of the Russians is then town-talk, and nothing more?"
asked Kretschmer, who was still anxious to throw doubt on the bad
news.

"No, it is a fact," said Krause seriously. "Pfannenstiel is, as you
know, not only a prophet, but also a quack doctor, and his herbs and
decoctions are certainly often of astonishing efficacy. He always
gathers the plants for his mixtures himself, and roams about in search
of them in the neighborhood of Berlin for days together. Last evening
he was outside the town, on one of these tramps, intending to pass
the night sleeping under a tree. He was awoke by the sound of
troops marching, and as he looked carefully around, he could plainly
distinguish in the bright moonlight the uniforms of the Russian army.
It was a long column of many thousand men. They halted not far from
the place where Pfannenstiel lay, and he crept carefully nearer. He
then ascertained from their conversation that this was only a small
division of the army, which had advanced by forced marches from
Frankfort, and was commanded by General Tottleben."

"By Tottleben!" cried Kretschmer in dismay.

"Yes, by Tottleben," whimpered Krause, and they both looked in silence
on the ground. "Yes, his vengeance will be terrible," said Krause,
after a long and anxious pause. "Have you not heard," continued he in
whisper--"have you not heard the sad story of what occurred last year
in Erlangen? The editor of the _Erlangen Gazette_ admitted into his
columns an article abusive of our great king. A Prussian officer came
in person to Erlangen to call the editor to account. And what do you
think he did? He caused the unfortunate and pitiable journalist to be
beaten with cudgels, and then gave him a receipt for the bastinado he
had gotten."

"Horrible!" cried Mr. Kretschmer, wringing