The soldiers surrounded him and shoved him toward the door.  But Elise broke through the crowd.  With flashing eyes, and cheeks burning with a feverish excitement, she rushed toward Feodor.  “No!” cried she, with all the ardor of love, “no, I will not leave you.  You are going to your death!”

Feodor kissed her lightly on the forehead, and replied with a smile, “I fear nothing.  Fortune does not forsake a brave soldier.”

He then took her by the hand and led her to her father.  Gazing on him with a long and speaking look, he continued:  “Here, Father Gotzkowsky, I bring your daughter to you:  be a better father to her than you have been a friend to me.  These are my farewell words.”

He leaned forward as if to give Gotzkowsky a parting embrace, and whispered to him:  “I hope we are now quit!  I have atoned for my fault.  You will no longer wish to punish your daughter for my transgression.”

He then threw the white cloak around him, and bidding Elise, who leaned half fainting against her father, a tender farewell, he stepped back into the ranks of the guard.

“Attention! shoulder arms!” commanded the officer; and the Austrians left the hall with closed ranks, the prisoner in their midst.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XIX.

FATHER GOTZKOWSKY.

The door had closed behind the soldiers and their prisoner.  Gotzkowsky and Elise remained behind, silent and immersed in the deep sorrows of their souls.  Neither spoke a word; both stood motionless and listened.

They heard the soldiers hurry down the steps; they heard the house door violently thrown open, and the officer announce in a loud voice to those of his soldiers who were waiting in the street, the lucky capture of the artilleryman.

A cry of triumph from the Austrians was the answer; then was heard the loud word of command from the officer, and the roll of the drum gradually receding in the distance until it was no longer audible.  Every thing was silent.

“Have mercy, Father in heaven have mercy!  They are leading him to death!” cried Elise in a heart-rending tone, and she sank on her knees in prayer.

“The brave cannoneer is saved!” murmured Gotzkowsky in a low voice to himself, and he too folded his hands in prayer.  Was it a prayer of gratitude, or did it proceed from the despairing heart of a father?

His countenance had a bright and elevated expression; but as he turned his eyes down on his daughter, still on her knees, they darkened, and his features twitched convulsively and painfully.  His anger had evaporated, and his heart was filled with boundless pity and love.  He felt nothing but painful, sorrowful compassion for this young girl who lay deathly pale and trembling with suffering on the floor.  His daughter was weeping, and his heart yearned toward her to forgive her every thing, to raise her up and comfort her.