Our mother was present when he tried them on, and when she remarked that now all was well, the man shook his head, and declared that the concessions of the forenoon had had no other object than to befool the people; that would appear before long.

While I write, it seems as if I saw again that poor little bearer of the first evil tidings, and heard once more the first shots which interrupted his prophecy with eloquent confirmation.

Our mother turned pale.

The tailor folded up his cloth and hurried away.  What did his words mean, and what was the firing outside?

We strained our ears to listen.  The noise seemed to grow louder and come nearer; and, just as our mother cried, “For Heaven’s sake, Martha!” the cook burst into the room, exclaiming, “The row began in the Schlossplatz!”

Fraulein Lamperi shrieked, seized her bonnet and cloak, and the pompadour which she took with her everywhere, to hurry home as fast as she could.

Our mother could think only of Martha.  She had dined at the Baeyers’ and was now perhaps on the way home.  Somebody must be sent to meet her.  But of what use would be the escort of a maid; and Kurschner was gone, and the porter not to be found!

The cook was sent in one direction, the chambermaid in another, to seek a male escort for Martha.

And then there was Frau Lieutenant Beyer, our neighbour in the house, whose husband was on the general staff, asking:  “How is it possible?  Everything was granted!  What can have happened?”

The answer was a rattle of musketry.  We leaned out of the window, from which we could see as far as Potsdamstrasse.  What a rush there was towards the gate!  Three or four men dashed down the middle of the quiet street.  The tall, bearded fellow at the head we knew well.  It was the upholsterer Specht, who had often put up curtains and done similar work for us, a good and capable workman.

But what a change!  Instead of a neat little hammer, he was flourishing an axe, and he and his companions looked as furious as if they were going to revenge some terrible injury.

He caught sight of us, and I remember distinctly the whites of his rolling eyes as he raised his axe higher, and shouted hoarsely, and as if the threat was meant for us: 

“They shall get it!”

Our mother and Frau Beyer had seen and heard him too, and the firing in the direction of which the upholsterer and his companions were running was very near.

The fight must already be raging in Leipzigerstrasse.

At last the porter came back and announced that barricades had been built at the corner of Mauer- and Friedrichstrasse, and that a violent conflict had broken out there and in other places between the soldiers and the citizens.  And our Martha was in Friedrichstrasse, and did not come.  We lived beyond the gate, and it was not to be expected that fighting would break out in our neighbourhood; but back of our gardens, in the vicinity of the Potsdam railway station, the beating of drums was heard.  The firing, however, which became more and more violent, was louder than any other noise; and when we saw our mother wild with anxiety, we, too, began to be alarmed for our dear, sweet Martha.