The news was like a thunder-clap to the two editors, for it compelled them to leave their safe hiding-place, and to venture out into the dangerous world.  For these gentlemen, editors of such renowned journals, who prided themselves on giving their readers the most recent and important intelligence, would not dare to be absent at the reception of the Russian general.  For the love of their country they had to forget their own fears, and, for the honor of their journals, face danger like true heroes.

Day had scarcely dawned, and deep silence and death-like stillness reigned at the Kottbuss Gate.  The wings of the gate were closed, and the watchman had withdrawn into his little box, and was resting from the events of the past days.  Dawn still lay like a veil over poor, anxious Berlin, and concealed her tears and bloody wounds.

The silence was suddenly interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps, and around the nearest corner glided the cowering figure of a man.  He remained still for a minute and listened; then, convinced that all around him was quiet and silent, he crept along, keeping anxiously close to the houses, and reached unperceived the pillar on the right side of the gate, in the dark shadow of which he concealed himself.  This man was no other than Mr. Kretschmer, the editor of the Vossian Gazette, who made himself comfortable in his hiding-place.

“This is quite nice and right,” said he, shoving a stone behind the pillar, in order to raise himself to a higher point of view.  “From here I can hear and observe every thing.”

So, settling himself on the stone, he leaned back in the corner of the door-pillar, as if it were the leathern arm-chair in his sanctum.  A comfortable smile stole over his features.

“This time,” said he, “at least, I have forestalled my rival, good Mr. Krause.  To-morrow the Vossian Gazette will be the only one which will be able to report, from actual observation, on the formal entry of the Russian general.  Oh, how vexed Spener’s will be!  There is seven o’clock striking.  In an hour the ceremony will begin. Spener’s Journal still sleeps, while the Vossian Gazette wakes and works, and is alert to satisfy the curiosity of Berlin.”

Poor, benighted editor of the Vossian!  You, indeed, could not see him, but the veil of the dawning day, which spread over Berlin, concealed your rival, as well as yourself, in its folds.  His drawn-up figure was not visible to your dimmed sight, as he sneaked along the houses, and hid himself behind the pillar on the left of the gate.  While you were rejoicing over the long sleep of Spener’s Journal, its editor, Mr. Krause, was standing opposite to you, behind the pillar, whither he had come, notwithstanding his sixty-eight years, like you, to witness the entrance of the Russians.  And happy was he in spirit at this victory obtained over his rival, the editor of the Vossian Gazette, and it made him very proud indeed to think that this once he had forestalled Mr. Kretschmer, and consequently would have the monopoly of describing in the morning’s paper, to the people of Berlin, the magnificent and pompous entrance of the Russians!