ng will turn out well, and
the blood which flows will transform itself into a purple robe, and
men will call it freedom. Out of death will arise life.' Therefore
fall down on your knees, for the hour of judgment has come, and prayer
alone, but not the sword, can save you."

The multitude, carried away by the deception, were in the act of
obeying this order, when Gotzkowsky, who could no longer restrain
himself, stepped rapidly forward, his countenance radiant, and his
eyes sparkling with anger.

"Listen not to this hypocritical set, this lying prophet, my people!"
cried he, with a voice of thunder. "He will make cowards of you all,
cowards who will submit to the yoke, howling and whining. You would
not have this ignominy put upon you. You will be men, who will defend
their liberty with noble courage to the last drop of their blood,
against the invading hordes of barbarians. For the barbarians are
coming, and their fierce wrath threatens your wives and children. Will
you submit to the Russians with a humble whine?"

"No, no!" cried the men, and many a clinched fist was raised, and many
a wild but muttered oath was heard.

At this moment there arose in the street a confused sound of screams
and yells, then the hollow roll of the drum, and the deep clang of the
alarm-bell, which summoned the citizens to the town-hall.

The garden gates were now violently thrown open, and a band of stout
workmen was seen hastening in wild disorder toward Gotzkowsky.

These were the workmen from Gotzkowsky's factories, industrious men,
who had preferred working in the factory, and not losing their time,
to the enjoyment of the day's festival, and to whom Gotzkowsky had
ordered double wages to be paid, that they might not lose their share
in the celebration of his daughter's birthday.

"The Russians are at the gates!" cried they. "All the citizens are
arming themselves. We have no arms. Give us arms, master!"

The cry was taken up by those who had just been listening to
Pfannenstiel's words. "Yes, give us arms, give us arms. We are no
cowards, we will fight!" Gotzkowsky's flashing eye flew across the
multitude, and he saw in the earnest countenances of the men that they
were serious in their demand, and in their desire to fight. "Well,
then, if you will fight, you shall not want for weapons," cried he,
joyfully. "I have, as you know, in my house, a collection of costly
arms. Follow me, my children; we will go to the armory, and each