“How can my father do that?” said she, doubtingly.

“He must persuade the citizens to yield without fighting.”

“That my father will never do,” said she, warmly.

“Yes, he will do it,” replied her lover, “when he learns that all fighting is useless.  Let him have compassion on his native town, on himself.  You are all lost if you fight.  Already twelve thousand of our men, under General Tottleben, stand before the gates.  At this moment, while I am speaking, Tschernitscheff, with twenty thousand regulars, is approaching from the other side.  Count Lacy, too, with his Austrians, is drawing near.  All this tell your father.  Tell him, also, that General Tottleben has promised our Empress Elizabeth to take Berlin, if he has to lay it in ruins and ashes.  Use all your influence, implore him to do all in his power to persuade the citizens to a peaceful surrender.”

“I have no influence over my father,” said she, sadly, “and if I had I would not abuse it.  Such a surrender, without a fight, would be cowardice.”

“But a fight, with the assured certainty of defeat, would be madness.  Your father does not know the number of troops massed around Berlin.  Do you tell him.”

She looked at him mournfully.  “And shall I tell him, too, from whom I received this information?”

After a little reflection, he replied:  “Yes, if it cannot be otherwise, tell him.  Your father will not betray me.”

“No, but he will curse his daughter,” cried Elise, painfully—­“curse her for having had intercourse with our country’s enemy, while the Russian cannon threaten our town.  No, no, Feodor, it were no use to warn him.  My father would not listen to me.”

“So Berlin will run toward its ruin, and I cannot prevent it,” said the colonel, sadly.  “I have done all in my power.  I wish to requite your father for all the kindness he has shown me, and for that reason I risked my life in order to warn him.”

“Believe me, Feodor, I will never forget you for it,” said she, offering him both her hands.  “However angry my father may be, my heart still remains yours.  Love does not recognize any national hatred.  It yields itself without reserve to him who has won it.”

She leaned her head upon his breast, and he imprinted a kiss upon her forehead.

“Thank you for these words,” said he; “wherever I go they shall be my talisman.”

“Are you going already?” asked she, anxiously.

“I must go, Elise,” replied he.

“Oh, Feodor, I dare not bid you stay.  I tremble at the thought of my father seeing you,” sighed she; “but when, my beloved, when shall we see each other again?”

He looked at her a long time with a steady, piercing glance.  He then exclaimed, almost rudely:  “You have sworn me love and constancy till death.  Do you remember it?”

“I remember it, and never will I be faithless to my vow,” whispered she, smiling through her tears.