“At last he comes,” said the chief burgomaster, raising himself with an effort in his chair, and arranging the chain on his breast, which had got a little out of order.

The door now opened, and the merchant Gotzkowsky entered.

He approached the assembly with a firm and hurried step.  The light of the candles shone upon his countenance, and in his pale, worn features you could read the traces of the hardships, the efforts and dangers he had undergone during the last two unfortunate days; only his eye still shone with its mild and yet fiery glance, and in his breast there beat still a brave and cheerful heart.

“Ye have called me, honorable gentlemen, and, as ye see, I have not delayed in answering your call.”

“Yes, we have summoned you,” answered the chief burgomaster.  “The Council desire your advice.”

A slight, mocking smile played about Gotzkowsky’s lips.  “It is not the first time,” he said, “that the Council have done me this honor.”

Herr von Kircheisen plucked uneasily at his golden chain, and frowned.  Gotzkowsky’s answer had wounded his pride.  “Yes, you gave us your advice yesterday, and it was only by your urgent appeal that we were induced to feed and lodge the Prince of Wurtemberg’s troops.  We might have spared ourselves the trouble, and our forty oxen remained unslaughtered.”

“The Prince of Wurtemberg has left us, I know,” said Gotzkowsky, sorrowfully, “and we are thrown again on our own resources.  Oh, I could weep over it!  Two days and nights have the citizens of Berlin fought with the courage of a lioness defending her young, and all in vain.  So much noble blood shed in vain!”

“We must surrender, then?” said Kircheisen, turning pale.

“Unless the honorable Council can sow dragons’ teeth and reap armed men, unless we can mould cannon and create gunners to serve them, we must, indeed, surrender!” said Gotzkowsky, in a sad tone.  “Yes, if we had a dozen cannon like the two at the Kottbuss Gate served by the brave artillerist, Fritz, there might be some hope for us.  Those were beautiful shots.  Like the sickle of death did they mow down the ranks of the enemy, and whole rows fell at once.  Fritz is a hero, and has built himself a monument with the dead bodies of the Russians—­and all this for nothing!”

“For nothing! do you say?” sighed the chief burgomaster.  “On the contrary, I rather think it will cost us a mint of money.  The Austrians have sent Prince Lowenstein in with a flag of truce, to demand the surrender of the town.  The Russians have also sent in a flag of truce with the same demand.  Now comes the important question, To which of these two powers shall we surrender?  Which will give us the best bargain?” and as the burgomaster stammered out this question, he seized a large goblet of wine which stood before him and emptied it at a draught.  He then ordered the servant, who stood at the door, to replenish it with Johannisberger.