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."
Elise rose with difficulty and gave the necessary orders to the
servants; and while the latter were hurrying to and fro, serving
up breakfast, Gotzkowsky reclined on the sofa, half asleep from
exhaustion; and Bertram and Elise sat opposite to each other in
silence. Suddenly there were heard in the distance wild yells, and
loud noises and cries. Then hasty steps flew up the staircase; the
hall door was pulled open, and a soldier rushed in. With breathless
haste he bolted the door behind him, threw off the white cloak which
concealed his figure, and the broad-brimmed hat which covered his
head, and sank with a loud sigh into a chair. Gotzkowsky hurried up to
him and looked at him attentively. Elise, with an instinctive feeling
of the danger which threatened Feodor, turned to the door behind which
he was hidden.
"The artilleryman, Fritz!" cried Gotzkowsky, with visible
astonishment.
"Yes, it is me," groaned the soldier. "Save me, Gotzkowsky; do not
deliver me up to these barbarians!"
Gotzkowsky laid his hand on his shoulder with a friendly smile. "I
would not betray the enemy himself, if he sought refuge in my house;
and you ask me not to betray the most valiant and renowned defender of
Berlin. Bertram, this man here, this simple cannoneer, has performed
miracles of valor, and earned for himself an enviable name in these
last unfortunate days. It was he who had charge of the only two cannon
Berlin possessed, and who, never tiring, without rest or relaxation,
gent death into the ranks of the enemy. Be assured, my son, you have
fought these two days like a hero, and it cannot be God's wish that,
as a reward for your bravery, you should fall into the hands of the
enemy."
"They pursue me everywhere," said the artilleryman. "Hunted by De
Lacy's chasseurs like a wild beast, I fled down the street hither. You
told me yesterday that if ever I wanted a friend in need, you would
be one to me. Therefore have I come to you. The Austrians have
sworn vengeance on the cannoneer, whose balls swept their ranks so
murderously, and have set a large price on my head."
"Ah!" cried Gotzkowsky, laughing, "the Austrians advertise rewards
before they have got the money to pay them. Let them set a thousand
ducats on your head, my son. They will have to do without the ducats,
and your head too, for Berlin will give them neither. If we must pay
the money, the Russian shall have it; and as for your head, well, I
will pay for that with my life. You have fought like a lion, and like
lions we will defend you."
"What have I gained by fighting?" said Fritz, with a mournful shrug of
the shoulders. "The enemy have succeeded in getting into the town, and
their rage is tearful. They have sworn to kill me. But you will not
give me up! and should they come here and find me, then have pity on
me and kill me, but do not give me up to the enemy!"
"To kill you, they must kill both of us first!" cried Bertram, taking
the brave cannoneer by the hand. "We will hide him in your house;
won't we, Father Gotzkowsky?"
"Yes, and so safely that no one will be able to find him!" cried
Gotzkowsky, cheerfully, raising the soldier up by the hand. "Follow
me, my son. In my daughter's chamber is a safe hiding-place. The
mirror on the wall covers a secret door, behind which is a space just
large enough to conceal a person. Come."
He led the artilleryman toward the door of Elise's room. But before
this door Elise had stationed herself, her cheeks burning and her eyes
flashing. The danger of her lover lent her courage and determination,
and enabled her to meet the anger of her father unflinchingly.
"Not in there, father!" said she, in a tone almost commanding; "not
into my room!"
Gotzkowsky stepped back in astonishment, and gazed at his daughter.
"How," asked he, "do you forbid me the entrance?"
"Behind the picture of the Virgin in the large hall is a similar
hiding-place," said Elise, hurriedly; "carry him thither."
Gotzkowsky did not answer immediately. He only gazed firmly and
inquiringly into Elise's countenance. Dark and dismal misgivings,
which he had often with much difficulty suppressed, now arose again,
and filled his soul with angry, desperate thoughts. Like Virginius of
old, he would have preferred to kill his daughter to delivering her
into the hands of the enemy.
"And why should he go there, and not remain here?" asked he at last
with an effort.
"Remember, father," stammered she, blushing, "I--"
She stopped as she met the look of her father, which rested on her
with penetrating power--as she read the rising anger of his soul in
the tense swollen veins of his brow, and his pale, trembling lips.
Bertram had witnessed this short but impressive scene with increasing
terror. Elise's anxiety, her paleness and trembling, the watch which
she kept over that door, had not escaped him, even on his entrance,
and filled him with painful uneasiness. But as he now recognized in
Gotzkowsky's features the signs of an anger which was the more violent
for the very reason that he so seldom gave way to it, he felt the
necessity of coming to the assistance of his distressed sister. He
approached her father, and laid his hand lightly on his shoulder.
"Elise is right," said he, entreatingly. "Respect her maiden
hesitation."
Gotzkowsky turned round upon him with an impatient toss of the head,
and stared him full in the face. He then broke into a fit of wild,
derisive laughter.
"Yes," said he, "we will respect her maiden hesitation. You have
spoken wisely, Bertram. Listen: you know the partition behind the
picture of the Madonna in the picture-gallery. Carry our brave friend
thither, and take heed that the spring is carefully closed."
Bertram looked at him sadly and anxiously. He had never before seen
this man, usually so calm, so passionately excited.
"You will not go with us, father?" asked he.
"No," said Gotzkowsky, harshly; "I remain here to await the enemy."
He cast on Elise, still leaning against the door, a threatening look,
which made her heart tremble. Bertram sighed, and had not the courage
to go and forsake Elise in this anxious and critical moment.
"Hasten, friend," said Gotzkowsky, sternly. "The life of a brave man
is at stake. Hasten!"
The young man dared not gainsay him, but he approached Gotzkowsky,
and whispered softly: "Be lenient, father. See how she trembles! Poor
sister!"
And with a painful glance at Elise, he took the hand of the
artilleryman, and led him out of the room.
* * * * *