“Quick! hasten, they are coming!” said she, pulling the door open, and pushing him hurriedly on.

“He is saved,” cried her heart joyfully, as she closed the door after him, and, sinking down, half fainting in a chair, her lips murmured, “Have mercy, gracious God; have mercy on him and me!”

At this moment her father, accompanied by Bertram and the factory workman, Balthazar, entered the room through the door of the balcony.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XVI.

THE FUGITIVE.

Gotzkowsky at length returned to his home.  Sad and sorrowful was his soul, and his brow, at other times so smooth and clear, was now dark and clouded.  He mourned for his country, for the fruitless battles, the blood shed in vain, and, in the bitter grief of his heart, he asked himself what crime he had committed, that to him should be assigned the painful duty of deciding to which of the enemies they should surrender.  And yet the decision was imperative, and Berlin had to be surrendered to the Russians.

In gloomy sadness, hardly casting a passing glance at his daughter, whose anxiety and death-like paleness he did not even perceive, Gotzkowsky entered the hall, Bertram carefully bolting the doors behind him, and then in an undertone gave Balthazar and the servants directions for the protection of the house.

“What a dreadful night!” said Gotzkowsky, sinking down on a sofa exhausted; “my heart aches as much as my limbs.”

For a moment he closed his eyes, and lay silent and motionless.  Elise was still leaning trembling and breathless on the chair near the door.  Gotzkowsky raised his head, and his eyes sought his daughter.  As he perceived her, a gentle and pleased expression passed over his face, and his brow grew clearer.  He hastened to her and raised her in his arms.

“Bless you, Elise, my child! for two days have I been nothing but citizen and soldier; now at last I am permitted to remember that I am a father.  I had almost forgotten it during these wild sad days.  Good-evening, my darling child!”

Elise kissed his hand respectfully, and muttered a low welcome.

Gotzkowsky said in a gentle tone, “This is a comfort which makes me forget all my sufferings.  Come, my children, let us for one bright hour put aside all care and trouble, and be happy and cheerful together.  Let us have breakfast.  This poor, weak body needs refreshment, for it reminds me that, for two days, I have been living on prison fare, bread and water.  Come, then, let us breakfast.  Bertram, sit by my side, and our sweet little housekeeper will help us to coffee.”