Books: NAPOLEON AND BLUCHER

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The old sergeant paced the room in silence. He scarcely knew that
the tears, like large pearls, were running down his cheeks into his
gray beard. The loud sobs of his wife aroused him. "Hush, wife;
hush!" he said, standing in front of her. "It is too late now for
weeping. Let us rather be glad, for Leonora is possessed of a brave
heart, and has done her duty toward her country and her old invalid
father. Let us, therefore, be glad, and sing!" And he commenced to
sing in a tremulous voice, while the tears were still rolling from
his eyes:

"Ihr Deutsche auf in Sud und Nord!
Hinweg gemeiner Neid!
Wir alle reden eine Sprach'
Und stehen air fur eine Sach'
Im ehrenvoilen Streit!"

"Und wer sich feig entzieht dem Kampf
Fur Freiheit und fur Ehr',
Wer nicht das Schwertergreift zur Stund!
Der leb' und sterb' als schlechter Hund,
Der sei kein Deutscher mehr!"

[Footnote:
Arise, ye Germans, North and South!
And honor's path pursue.
Since all one common language speak
And all one sacred object seek,
Your jealousies subdue.

Let him who shirks his country's call,
To freedom and to fame,
Both live and die a cowardly hound,
Despised wherever may be found
A man of German name.]

CHAPTER XXV.

THE NATIONAL REPRESENTATIVES.

Leonora Prohaska reached Berlin at four o'clock in the afternoon. On
the way, closing her eyes, she leaned back on the cushions, so that
her companions paid little attention to her, whom they believed to
be asleep. But Leonora heard every word, and every conversation of
her fellow-travellers strengthened her soul and restored her former
courage. They spoke of the enthusiasm in every city, village, and
house--an enthusiasm spreading far beyond the frontiers of Prussia,
and carrying all away as an irresistible torrent, drawing with it
even the most cautious and timid, and filling the most desponding
and disheartened with joyous hopes. One of the travellers was just
returning from Breslau, and dwelt with impassioned eloquence on the
bustle prevailing there; on the volunteers who were flocking in vast
numbers to that city and parading every day under the king's
windows; and on brave Major von Lutzow, who, with his beautiful
young wife, had come to Breslau, and was endeavoring to live at a
miserable tavern, because no other accommodations were to be had.

"And in the bar-room," he said, "beautiful Madame von Lutzow
receives the names of the volunteers who wish to enlist in the
Legion of Vengeance. Her husband is busily engaged, from dawn till
late at night, in organizing his corps; in trying to procure arms,
horses, and equipments for his men, and his handsome wife is his
recruiting officer. She is as charming as an angel, the daughter of
a wealthy count, and has, by her marriage with Major von Lutzow,
contrary to her parents' wishes, so much exasperated her proud
father that he gave her no dower, but imposed it as a condition of
his consent that Major von Lutzow should marry without any. But the
count's daughter joyously descended from the proud castle to the
humble dwelling of the Prussian major, whom she loved on account of
his bravery, and the scars which he bore on his forehead, and which
he had received in 1806, in the war against the French."

"I know the lady," said the second traveller; "she is a daughter of
the Danish Count von Ahlefeldt, a wonder of loveliness, grace, and
refined manners. She hates the French as intensely as her husband,
and it was precisely this common hatred of the French that brought
them together."

"How so?" asked the other. "Pray tell us all about it."

"Several years ago, the young countess, attended by her governess,
made a journey to a fashionable German watering-place. Both took
dinner at the table d'hote of the 'Kurhaus,' where a crowd of
persons from all countries were assembled. The neighbor of the young
countess at the table happened to be a French officer, who managed
to involve the young lady in a highly animated and interesting
conversation. He told her in a very attractive manner of his
campaigns and travels, and the young countess listened to him with
pleasure and manifested her sympathy for him. The Frenchman dared to
seize her hand and kiss it. The young countess started; a deep blush
suffused her fair face, and, without reflecting, obeying only her
first impulse, she took a glass of water which stood before her, and
poured it over the hand which the Frenchman had dared to kiss.
Several Prussian officers, seated near her had witnessed the
occurrence, and, on noticing how she removed the stain of the French
kiss from her hand, could not refrain from bursting into a loud
cheer. One of them was Major von Lutzow. After dinner he approached
the countess, was introduced to her by a mutual acquaintance, and
expressed his ardent thanks, in the name of all Germans, for the
bold rebuke she had administered to the Frenchman. That was the
beginning of her acquaintance with Major von Lutzow, and the end of
it was her marriage with him. [Footnote: I am indebted for an
account of this occurrence to the Countess Ahlefeldt (formerly
Madame Major von Lutzow) herself, who related it to me with charming
naivete and grace.--L.] She is now at Breslau, and you have seen
her."

"Yes, for I went to the major's headquarters with a friend who
wished to enlist in his corps. We met there, however, only herself.
She received my friend's request to enlist under her husband with so
much grace, with such a look of joy--she dwelt in such soul-stirring
words on the great and holy national war about to break out, and in
which every one ought to participate, that I was quite fascinated by
her eloquence, and would have enlisted at once if I had not already
entered a landwehr regiment."

Not a word of this conversation escaped Leonora, and she said to
herself: "I must make the acquaintance of this lady. I will go to
her, mid she will enlist me for the German fatherland!"

The travellers continued their conversation, relating that Frederick
William had not believed in the success of the first manifesto, in
which he called for volunteers; and, for this reason, had not signed
the manifesto which Chancellor von Hardenberg had drawn up; that
four days afterward the king, who had just explained with unusual
vehemence to General Scharnhorst the utter uselessness of this call,
was interrupted by a strange noise in the street; and that, anxious
to discover what was the cause, he stepped to the window, and
General Scharnhorst followed him; that a line of at least eighty
wagons had come in sight, and in them none but armed men were
seated, who halted in front of the palace, and an aide-de-camp, who
entered the room at that moment, informed the king that they were
volunteers just arrived from Berlin; that Scharnhorst turned to him,
and exclaimed triumphantly: "Will your majesty be convinced now that
your people are ready to fight for you and the fatherland?" and that
the king made no reply, but a flood of tears rushed from his eyes,
and he smiled amidst his emotion.

At length Leonora arrived at Berlin. She stood alone beside her
trunk in the court-yard of the royal post-office building. No notice
was taken of her; no one manifested any sympathy for her; but she
did not flinch, and her heart was free from doubt or anxiety. She
sent for a hackney-coach by one of the boys playing in the court-
yard, and then drove away. But she did not order the coachman to
convey her to her godfather, Werkmeister, the merchant on Jager
Street. Driving first to Tauben Street, the carriage stopped in
front of a large, gloomy house. She alighted, and, begging the
coachman to wait for her, slipped into the house. Quickly ascending
three narrow flights of stairs, she reached a silent corridor, on
both sides of which were small doors, and on each a number had been
painted. Knocking at the door of number three, a female voice
inquired, "Who is there?"

"It is I, Leonora Prohaska!"

A loud cry of joy resounded; the door was hastily opened, and a
young soldier in full uniform appeared on the threshold. It was now
Leonora who uttered a cry, and blushing drew back. "Pardon me," she
said, timidly; "there must be a mistake. I am looking for my friend,
a young milliner, named Caroline Peters."

The young soldier laughed, but it was the fresh, ringing laughter of
a girl. "Then you really do not recognize me, Leonora?" he
exclaimed. "You really take me for what I like to be and am not--a
man?"

"Great Heaven! is it you?" exclaimed Leonora. "You--"

"Hush!" whispered the other, hastily drawing her into the room, and
carefully locking the door. "For mercy's sake, let no one hear us!
What a scandal it would be, if it should be discovered that
Volunteer Charles Petersen receives the visits of pretty girls at
his room! This hotel is entirely occupied by volunteers, and none of
them suspect that I am a woman, nor shall they ever find it out. But
now welcome, my dear Leonora, and tell me what has brought you to
Berlin. Did you receive my letter?"

"Yes, Caroline, I did," said Leonora, gravely, "and it gave me pain,
for you called me cowardly and destitute of honor, because I
intended to stay at home when my country was in need of the arms of
all its children, and when every one of any courage was
participating in this holy struggle."

"And that is the truth, Leonora," exclaimed Caroline; "the
fatherland has called us all, and those who do not listen to this
call are cowards!"

"But who told you that I did not listen to it?" asked Leonora.

"What!" ejaculated Caroline, joyously. "Leonora, you, too--"

"Hush!" interrupted Leonora, "we must talk about all this afterward.
I am in haste now, for there is a hackney-coach waiting for me at
the door, and my trunk is on it. Tell me now quickly, Caroline, can
I stay with you over night?"

"In female dress, Leonora? That would be hardly prudent."

"No, in male attire, Caroline."

"Oh, then you are a thousand times welcome here," exclaimed
Caroline, encircling her with her arms, and drawing her to her
heart.

"But I have not yet my male attire," said Leonora, smiling, "nor
have I money to buy it. Give me, therefore, quickly, the name of
some one who buys dresses, for I will drive to him immediately with
my trunk, and sell all I have brought with me."

"Come, Leonora, I will accompany you," said Caroline. "I know at the
Hospital Bridge a very patriotic and kind-hearted old Jew, to whom I
have also sold my wearing apparel, and who paid me a very liberal
price for it, when I told him that I wanted to buy a uniform for my
brother. Let us drive there, but I will remain in the carriage while
you go into the store, for he might recognize me. You will also find
men's clothing, which you may purchase for your brother--that is to
say, for yourself."

"Come, then, and let us make haste," said Leonora, drawing her
friend with her.

Fifteen minutes afterward the hackney-coach halted in front of one
of the second-hand clothing-stores near the Hospital Bridge, and
Leonora alighted, holding in her arms a large package of dresses,
shawls, skirts, and aprons, which she had taken from her trunk
during the drive. Mr. Hirsch, the dealer in second-hand clothing,
who was standing in front of his store, received her with a pleasant
greeting, and invited her to enter and tell him what she wanted.

Leonora put the wearing apparel on the counter, and, drawing a deep
breath, said in a tone of embarrassment, "I should like to sell
these things, sir."

The Jew put his spectacles slowly on his nose, and then lifted up
the dresses, one after another, contemplating them with scrutinizing
glances.

"If he should not give me as much money as I need?" Leonora asked
herself, anxiously, "if these things should not amount to so much
that I cannot purchase a uniform?"

And old Hirsch, as if he heard the anxious question of her heart,
said, shaking his head: "I cannot give very much for these few
calico dresses and aprons. They are all very nice and well
preserved, but of no value whatever."

"But there is also a silk dress, sir," said Leonora, in a tremulous
voice, "an entirely new silk dress."

"New?" asked the Jew, shrugging his shoulders, drawing out the
dress, and unfolding it with a sneer. "The dress is not new, for it
is made after such an old fashion that it could be worn only at a
masked ball; and the stuff is not worth any thing, either, for it is
only half silk. It was just made to look at. It appears like heavy
silk, but the oblique threads that make it look so heavy are all
cotton. How much do you want for the whole, my pretty miss?"

"I do not know," said Leonora, in a low voice, "as much as you can
give me for it."

"Yes, yes," grumbled the old man, "I am to give a great deal of
money for very poor goods; that is what they all ask me to do. I
will tell you, I cannot give you more than twelve dollars for the
whole lot."

"Twelve dollars!" ejaculated Leonora, with such an expression of
dismay that the Jew started, raising his green spectacles to his
forehead, and fixing his small, twinkling eyes on Leonora.

"Twelve dollars!" repeated Leonora, and, no longer able to restrain
her tears, she wrung her hands, and muttered: "It is all in vain,
then! Twelve dollars arc not sufficient to buy a uniform and arms."

Hirsch heard her words. "What?" he asked, hastily. "You want to sell
the dresses in order to buy a uniform and arms?"

"Yes, sir," replied Leonora, "my mother and I wanted to sell our
dresses, because we hoped we would get money enough to buy my
brother a complete uniform--a rifle, sword, and shako; for my
brother intends to enlist in Lutzow's corps of riflemen."

"Your brother intends to enlist in Lutzow's corps of riflemen?"
asked Hirsch, quickly. "Is that no pretext, eh? Do you not tell me
so merely for the purpose of extorting money from me? Can you swear
to me that that is why you wish to sell the dresses?"

"I can swear it by the great God in heaven, in whom we all believe,"
said Leonora, solemnly. "But I can prove it to you, too--"

"How so? In what way?"

"By buying a uniform for my brother here at your store. He is of the
same height as I am, and has precisely the same figure: we are
twins."

"And your brother intends to enlist in Lutzow's corps? Why did he
not himself come to select a uniform?"

"He is at Potsdam, sir, and does not know that I am here. To-morrow
is his birthday, and we want to surprise him by giving him his
uniform to-morrow."

"And he shall have it!" exclaimed the Jew; "yes, he shall have it! I
read in your eyes that you have told me the truth, my child, and
that you do not want the money for frivolous purposes, but for the
great cause of the German fatherland. I have also a heart for my
country, and no one shall say that we Israelites do not feel and act
like true Germans--that our hearts did not suffer under the disgrace
which, for long years, has weighed down all Germany, and that we
will not joyfully sacrifice our blood and our life; and, what is
still more, our property, for the sake of the fatherland. Who was
the first man at Berlin to make a voluntary contribution to this
object? It was a Jew! The president of the Jewish congregation, M.
Gumpert, made the first patriotic contribution. He sent three
hundred dollars to the military commission, with the request that
this amount might be spent for buying equipments for poor
volunteers. [Footnote: Historical.] Our Gumpert was the first man
who made a sacrifice for the benefit of the fatherland, and I do not
wish to be the last. I made a mistake in appraising your things; I
will do it over again, and what I can give I will give." He glanced
again at the dresses; then shaking his head, and stroking the silk
dress with his long, lean hand, he said, "How could I make such a
mistake, and believe this stuff to be only half silk? It is all
silk, heavy silk--and two dresses of the now fashionable tight cut
can easily be made out of this splendid one. For this alone I will
give you twenty dollars, and as for the other things, well, I will
give you twenty dollars more."

"Oh," exclaimed Leonora, radiant with joy, and giving both her hands
to the old Jew--"oh, you are a noble, generous man, a true patriot!
I thank you, and may the delivered land some day reward you!"

"Ah, poor Hirsch cannot deserve great rewards at the hands of the
fatherland," said the old man, sighing. "I am poor, I have not even
a son whom I might give to the country, and intrust with the task of
avenging me. I had a son, a good, dear boy; but, in 1807, when the
French arrived here, he wished to defend our property against the
soldiers who broke into our house; he grew very angry with the
infamous ruffians, and called them and their emperor murderers and
robbers. Thereupon they mortally stabbed him--they killed him before
my own eyes! He was my only child, my only joy on earth! But, hush!
this is no time for lamentations. I will rejoice--yes, rejoice, for
the hour of vengeance has come, and we will pay the French for what
wrongs they have inflicted on us. If I were not so old and feeble, I
should myself willingly fight, but now I am only able to assist in
equipping soldiers. Your brother shall become a soldier, my child;
we will equip him for the Legion of Vengeance. He shall avenge my
son, my innocent, beloved son, upon Napoleon the tyrant, and the
French rabble, who have trampled us under foot so long and so
disgracefully. Yes, yes, I will give you forty dollars for your
things, but I will not give you the whole amount in cash. Look at
this black uniform; it is quite new, the tailor delivered it only
yesterday. Did not you tell me that your brother is of the same
stature as you are?"

"Of the same stature and figure, for he is my twin-brother."

"Well, let us see if this uniform fits you."

Mr. Hirsch took out his tape-line, and measured Leonora's figure
with the skill of au experienced tailor. He then applied the tape-
line to the trousers and the coat of black cloth. "It fits
splendidly," he exclaimed. "And here is also a nice silk vest that
belongs to it. Now, listen to me! I charge you twelve dollars for
the whole suit; you will, therefore, receive twenty-eight dollars in
money. Now you will, in the first place, buy your brother a fine
rifle, such as Lutzow's riflemen need. You will pay ten dollars for
it; besides a sword and a shako, which will cost together five
dollars. You will have thirteen dollars left. For this amount you
will put a pair of good shirts and a new pair of boots into your
brother's knapsack, and the remainder you will give him for pocket-
money. Is it to be so? Is the bargain struck?" "Yes, the bargain is
struck."

"Very well. Here is your uniform, and here are the twenty-eight
dollars." He counted the shining dollars on the counter, and then
pushed the money and the clothing toward Leonora. "Here is our
Luztow's rifleman's uniform," he exclaimed.

"And here are the dresses, sir," said Leonora, handing the wearing
apparel to the old man, but, while doing so, she quickly bent over
it, and pressed a kiss on the silk dress.

Old Hirsch looked at her with amazement.

"It is my mother's bridal dress, sir," said Leonora, as if
apologetically. "It was our greatest treasure, and I gave it only a
farewell kiss."

The Jew looked down musingly. "Listen, my child," he said; "I must
not sell this dress. I shall keep it until the war is over. If your
brother gets safely back, you may bring him here, and, as a greeting
of welcome, I will present your mother's bridal dress to him. But in
return, he must do me a favor."

"What favor?"

"Whenever he cuts down a Frenchman, he is to shout, 'Moses Hirsch is
avenged!' Moses was the name of my dear, unfortunate son, and I
think he will sleep more calmly in his grave when he hears that his
father has sent out an avenger of his death. Will you promise me, in
your brother's name, that he will not forget to shout what I tell
you?"

"I promise it! Whenever my brother cuts down a Frenchman, he will
shout, 'Moses Hirsch is avenged!'"

"Thank you!" said Hirsch, greatly moved. "My son will hear it, and
he will smile down from heaven on his old, lonely father. And now,
my dear, beautiful child, good-by! Give me the package; I will take
it for you to the carriage!"

"No, no, give it back to me," exclaimed Leonora, anxiously. But the
old man did not listen to her. He took the package, and hastened
with it out of his store to the hackney-coach.

Charles Petersen, at this moment, looked impatiently out of the
window, and shouted to her friend to make haste.

Old Hirsch uttered a cry and stared at Caroline. "Great Heaven!" he
exclaimed, "you in uniform--you a volunteer?"

"Ah," said Caroline, concealing her confusion by loud laughter, "I
see what astonishes you. You confound me with my sister. I know she
sold her dresses to you to buy a uniform and arms for me. Yes, it is
difficult to distinguish us, for we greatly resemble each other. The
reason is, we are twins."

"He has a twin-sister as you have a twin-brother," said Hirsch,
turning to Leonora with a strange smile. "Hush! I understand all
now. God protect the courageous twins! Coachman, start!"

"Whither?" asked the coachman.

"To M. Werkmeister's house, 23 Jager Street," replied Leonora,
nodding a last greeting to the old Jew. The carriage wheeled away.

"What do you want at M. Werkmeister's?" asked Caroline.

"To pay him my last visit as a girl," said Leonora.

"Returning from his house, I shall divest myself of my female
costume and become your comrade. Let us then go out together and buy
my arms."

"But would it not be better for me to drive back to our hotel while
you are Werkmeister's?" asked Caroline. "You have had the hackney-
coach already above an hour, and we volunteers must be as economical
as possible, in order to support ourselves as long as we can, and
not become a burden to the state."

"That is true," said Leonora. "I will alight here, and you will be
so kind as to take my trunk and the package to your quarters." The
hackney-coach halted, and Leonora, wrapping herself in her shawl,
leaped out of the carriage. "Drive back to Tauben Street, now," she
said, "and assist the gentleman in carrying this trunk up to his
room. But previously I will pay you the whole fare. How much do I
owe you?"

"From the post-office to Tauben Street, four groschen," said the
coachman, composedly.

"And besides?"

"Nothing else."

"How so--nothing else? You waited a good while in Tauben Street; we
then drove hither, where you waited a long while again, and now you
are about to return to Tauben Street."

"Yes; but in Tauben Street we took in a volunteer," said the
coachman, whipping his horses in a gentle, caressing manner. "We
hackmen never take any money for driving a volunteer. Every one must
do as much for the fatherland as he can. You owe me, therefore, only
four groschen."

"Here they are," said Leonora, handing the money to the hackman,
"and we are much obliged to you."

"Oh, you are not obliged to me at all," said the hackman, "for you
see I do not drive girls for nothing--only volunteers."

"To-morrow he will drive me, too, for nothing," said Leonora, gazing
after the hackney-coach. "To-morrow I will no longer be a girl! For
I am going now to bid a last adieu to my outward maidenhood and my
past!" And she walked with resolute steps across the Gendarmes
Market toward Jager Street.

"I must tell my dear godfather that I cannot accept his offer," she
said to herself; "for, if I should not, he might perhaps write
another letter to me to Potsdam, and mother: would then learn
prematurely that I told her a falsehood, and am not now at my
godfather's house; but when he knows that I cannot come, he will not
write again, and no one will discover my plans."

There was an unusual throng to-day in front of the house No. 23 on
Jager Street, where Werkmeister the merchant lived. It was not
without difficulty that Leonora penetrated through the crowd to the
door, where was to be seen a large placard, containing the following
words: "Gold wedding-rings exchanged for iron ones here." Somewhat
astonished at this strange inscription, Leonora entered the house,
and stepped across the hall to the open door of her godfather's
litting-room.

M. Rudolph Werkmeister, without looking attentively at her,
presented her a small box containing a large number of glittering
rings. "Please select one of these, and drop the gold ring into the
aperture of the locked box," he said.

Leonora looked at him smilingly. "It is I, godfather," she said,
offering him her hand.

"Ah, it is you, Leonora Prohaska," exclaimed M. Werkmeister, putting
down the box. "You have received my letter, then, my child? You have
at length made up your mind to comply with my wishes--to come to my
house, and to assist my wife at the store and in the household?
Well, you could not have come at a better hour, and I thank you for
your kindness."

Leonora fixed her large dark eyes with an affectionate expression on
the good-natured, pleasant face of the merchant, and stepping up to
him laid both her hands on his shoulders. "Godfather, dear
godfather," she said, greatly moved, "do not be angry with me, and
forgive me for coming only to tell you I cannot accept your offer.
Do not ask me why I cannot. I am not allowed to tell you the reason,
but I know that, when you learn it some day, you will certainly
approve what I have done. I really am no ungrateful girl, but I
cannot come to you, dear M. Werkmeister. I have greater and holier
duties to fulfil--duties to which God Himself has called me!"