"Gracious Sire. You have lost the battle, and I my only son on the field!" he cried to him with the agitated grief of an inconsolable father: "all is lost!"

Frederick was for a moment unable to answer, violent emotion deprived him of the power of speech.--"I now know what I am," he said at length, "there are virtues which only misfortune can teach us, and we Princes discover in adversity alone, what manner of men we are."

"Gracious Sire!" now said Schlemmersdorf, who at that moment rode through the gate, in a tone of mournful reproach. "You were sitting joyously and cheerfully at table, while your army let itself be shot down before the gates in your cause."

"And you have made a fruitless sacrifice of yourselves," said Frederick sorrowfully, and a tear filled his eyes: "I am undone!"

"G.o.d forbid," cried Schlemmersdorf; "we are bringing the remnant of the army about seventeen battalions to you; the fugitives at the first blast of the trumpet will return to their standards, Mannsfield's flying division stands ready for battle in rear of the enemy, eight thousand fresh troops in support have arrived from Hungary and have already reached Brandeis.... Only give orders for the gates to be shut, and for the burghers to arm and the city can hold out against a long siege."

"What do _you_ think, Prince?" Frederick turned to Anhalt. He shrugged his shoulders. "Advise me, gentlemen, advise me, what is your opinion?"

cried Frederick almost imploringly, "what should be done?"

"First of all," observed Bubna with a side glance at Anhalt, "a brave general must be nominated to conduct the defence of the city...."

"You have requested my advice, gracious Sire!" Anhalt now continued, "well then, the open street is a bad place for a serious consultation: permit me to accompany you to the castle, there we will think the matter over...."

The battle lost had not diminished Anhalt's influence over the feeble Frederick. The Palatine turned his horse, and accompanied by Anhalt, Hohenlohe and Schlemmersdorf, rode to the Hradschin. Bubna looked after them in bitter wrath.

"What do you think of doing, Bitter?" enquired Bubna after a long and painful pause.

"At all events I shall remain to-night in the city," replied Gabriel, "to-morrow we shall hear, what sort of a plan Frederick's council has hatched, and I shall guide myself accordingly.... It is settled that our Mannsfield shall continue the war, even if Frederick concludes a peace. Whatever happens, I intend to share Mannsfield's fate."

"You are no Bohemian, Bitter! you are free.... but I, I, ... I love not Frederick, I esteem him not:--but the diet has elected him: if he is obliged to leave Prague a fugitive, I must go with him, I cannot act otherwise. Only when he has obtained a secure retreat, shall I join Mannsfield--therefore Bitter, farewell!"

Gabriel pressed Bubna's hand, but suddenly the old soldier threw his arms pa.s.sionately round Gabriel's neck and kissed him repeatedly with impetuosity. "You saved my life at the skirmish of Netolitz," he said, "I have never thanked you for doing it. I always believed that I should some day repay the old debt. But our paths divide--Bitter! we are approaching a period, insecure, and prolific of disorder: ... The immediate future may bring death to us, I do not know whether we shall ever meet again. Bitter! I feel as if I shall never see thee more.... I thank thee.... farewell!"

Bubna tore himself away by a violent effort, his rough powerful voice shook, large tears flowed slowly over his powder-blackened face.

Without leaving Gabriel time to reply, he spurred off in the direction of the Hradschin. But once more he halted and making a signal with his hand, cried, "farewell, Bitter, for ever!"

Gabriel could make no answer from emotion, and was obliged almost to cling to his horse's neck to prevent rocking in his seat.--That strange flutter within him of a sad presentiment of death, when Schlemmersdorf called him to the field, had disappeared in the heat of the fight, but was again powerfully excited when he had stood in single combat against the awful Pappenheim. For a moment he had given himself up as lost beyond redemption. But he had conquered, he had returned without a wound, safe and sound to Prague: it seemed to him as though he had risen superior to destiny. A bold violent feeling of self-confidence in his strength attained to its highest pitch, and spite of bitter discontent for the lost battle, he still smiled within himself at the childish terrors to which he had given way. But Bubna's leave-taking, the gloomy presentiment, which the aged, gallant veteran steeled in many a battle had undoubtedly given voice to, and which Gabriel had involuntarily referred to himself, had once again violently shaken him.

In swift course, as though to leave his gloomy thoughts behind, he spurred over the bridge into the Altstadt, and first held rein in the Marienplatz before his residence. His devoted armourer was waiting for him impatiently at the gate.

"Thank G.o.d, gracious Sir, you live; you are not wounded.... The battle is lost, is it not?"

Gabriel hurried, without heeding the armourer's words up the steps and beckoned him to follow. Gabriel threw himself into an arm chair, the armourer stood straight as a taper before him, expecting his orders.

"Martin!" began the General after a long reflection; "you have always been faithful to me, from my heart I thank you for it--you must do me one more service, perhaps the last. This night will decide the fate of Prague, of the whole country. I do not doubt that Frederick will follow the whispered suggestions of his council, will fly; ... in that case the ensuing morning must not find me in Prague.... I dare not fall alive into the hands of the Imperialists...."

"Only, gracious Sir, fly," interposed Martin, rubbing the back of his hand across his moist eyes; "don't lose a moment!"

"No, Martin! I must stay here to-night, I _must_ Martin!" he repeated impetuously, as if the man had contradicted him; then rapidly paced the chamber, and said softly to himself. "How, if Frederick were cowardly and wicked enough to open at once and instantly the gates of Prague for the entrance of the enemy.--How if I, the outlaw, should fall alive into the hands of the Imperialists, if I, born in ignominy, should die ignominiously by the hand of the executioner, should die without having avenged myself; ... No, no, I stay in Prague at all hazards, I _must_ revenge myself.... and then?... surely I have a trusty sword, I will never fall alive into the hands of my enemy.... Martin!" he said aloud, "in every event let two of the dragoons who accompanied me to Prague, wait for me to-morrow morning early at the Schweinthor well armed and with a saddled horse. If in the course of the night the city is put into a state of defence, it will be announced to the burghers and you will hear of it. If this is not the case, we must conclude that Frederick gives up all idea of resistance, surrenders his crown.--The best plan will be for you to go to the Hradschin and watch carefully whether the Palatine takes flight. No carriage can pa.s.s out of the city unperceived. To-morrow at daybreak you come to the gate and make your report to me. If the city is given up, I shall go to Brandeis to meet the Hungarian reinforcements, endeavour to form a junction between them and Mannsfield, and the war begins anew.--If the Imperialists march in, they will seek me; say that I escaped with the Palatine."

"Gracious Sir!" cried Martin, "fly at once, tarry not a moment. I will fly with you, I will never forsake you."

"What is the matter with you?" said Gabriel, moved in spite of the disorder of his spirits by the armourer's proposal. "You are now a domiciled citizen of Prague, no one will trouble himself about you, and when the first storm, which will only touch lofty heads, has blown itself out, you can go on with your business in peace. Consider, old man! you have only one leg, you are no longer young, a soldier's life is no longer suitable for you.... or are you afraid lest they should pay you out for your fidelity to me? No, Martin! there is no fear of that, they do not know of it, and even if they did know!..."

"No, it is not that, gracious Sir," replied Martin; "I only fear on your account. Why will you pa.s.s this night in Prague?... fly at once!"

"I _cannot_, Martin! I _cannot_," said Gabriel; "it will be time enough to fly to-morrow.... I adhere to the directions that I have given. Now leave me alone, I have still matters to think over.--We shall see one another to-morrow."

Martin lingered yet another moment. "Gracious Sir!" he said.

"Do you still wish to say anything?... Yes, I recollect, I must reward you for your faithful service, and to-morrow in my hurry I might forget it ..." Gabriel began to unlock a cabinet.

"For G.o.d's sake. Sir! How could you misunderstand me so? that is not what I desire, I am rich enough:--but grant me this favour--fly to-day, fly at once...."

Martin's obstinacy was striking. "What reason have you? Have you any information? Do you think that a rising in favour of the Imperialists will break out in the city? speak!

"No, by G.o.d Almighty, I have no information, gracious Sir!... but," he added in a low unsteady voice, "I fear, I know not why, that I shall never see you alive again to-morrow."

Gabriel gave an involuntary shudder. The words of the honest armourer accorded so exactly with Bubna's farewell.--

"Martin!" he said, after he had recovered his self-possession, "your love to me makes you take a gloomy view of everything.... I cannot set off today, I _must stay here_--my resolution is immovable!"

Martin bowed himself over the hand, which Gabriel extended to him, and wetted it with his tears.

"My resolve is unshakeable!" repeated Gabriel once more when he was alone.... this was the last word that he had addressed to Blume.... He paced the room with long strides. Physical exhaustion, unusual but easily to be accounted for, increased his intense mental excitement.

His stirring life had been always full of manifold vicissitudes, but to-day in the short s.p.a.ce of a few hours an infinity of events had been compressed. Once awakened and kept alive by suggestion, from many quarters, he could not quite banish from his soul the thought that he should die _to-day this very day_. He had often been near to death, the enemies' b.a.l.l.s had often whistled about him, hostile daggers had threatened him, he might often before have fallen, and unavenged, and without having accomplished his design:--_But he had never been so near it_--on the faintest doubt of the success of his plan he suffered the tortures, which legend attributes to Tantalus: only more woeful.... _If he should die to-day without having revenged himself, if he should die, behind him a desolate, empty, aimless existence, before him an unknown future, then there must be a Providence, then he must have ruined more than one human life, more than one existence_.--He struggled with the whole strength of his powerful intellect against the thought that would keep rising from the depths of his soul. But the thought was intangible, irrefutable. He might a.s.sure himself thousands of times, that there was no ground for these terrors, but for the very reason that he found no sensible foundation for his apprehensions, this inexplicable coincidence of his own sensations with that of his friend Bubna, of his devoted Martin, caused him a feeling of uneasy astonishment.--But his strong mind gradually with many a struggle composed itself. He could not in truth annihilate the painful thought, but he overcame it.

"Blume's fate, her husband's life is still in my hands," he said to himself. "The immediate future may cause an alteration in our relative positions.... the grey dawn of to-morrow must not find me in Prague....

I do not know whether I shall ever see Blume again--the favourable moment for revenge must be made use of!"

One hour later Gabriel was about to step out of the back-door of his house. He was again in the dress of a student, but he had this time thrown a broad cloak about him.

"What do you want, Martin?" he enquired in surprise, as he saw the armourer, who caught him hurriedly by the arm.

"Sir," cried he, "do not enter the Jews' quarter, fly, quit the silly pa.s.sion.... he entreated; what signify Jewish women to you?... do not go into the Jews' town, they are well affected to the Emperor there."

"Martin! you mean well ... but I cannot follow your advice--See," he unfolded his cloak, under which flashed a scabbard and three pistols, "I am armed, there is nothing to be afraid of. Leave me, you know me, you are aware that my resolution is immovable.--Remember, to-morrow early at the Schweinsthor."

Gabriel stepped out and hastened to the Jews' street. Martin gazed after him as long as he was in sight, then closed the postern and murmured with a sigh: "surely I shall never see him again."

The news of Fredericks complete overthrow had soon spread over the whole city, and the highest excitement prevailed everywhere. The burghers of the Altstadt had sent up to the castle, to ask what they should do, and offered themselves to enlist troops and defend the city if Frederick would remain in Prague. Frederick's answer, which he communicated to the burghers by Anhalt's advice: "that they should endeavour to make terms with the enemy, for himself he would depart at daybreak" was not as yet known. The inhabitants of the Altstadt, well disposed to Frederick, were overwhelmed, the population of the Kleinseite on the other hand, being for the most part devoted to the Emperor, rejoiced at the victory which Duke Maximilian had won. Great excitement too prevailed in the Jews' town. Numerous groups in the open street were whispering the latest intelligence; all were of the Imperial faction. Gabriel hurried through this throng. At the corner of a street he happened to run against a crowd of students. He recognised them, they were in the habit of attending the lecture room of the a.s.sessor Reb Lippmann h.e.l.ler, the same which Gabriel, in order to keep up at least the outward appearance of a student, had attended.

"How do you do Reb Gabriel;" one of the students turned quickly round, "How do you do? a pity you were not at lecture this morning, it was a lecture! I tell you, you can only hear one like it in Prague--wonderful!"

The student who had addressed Gabriel was a strange figure.--He was the Nestor of the Prague students.--He had numbered fifty years. Devoted to the continual study of the Talmud he had found it best after a mature deliberation of five and twenty years to renounce all ideas of marriage. In early days these may very well have been wrecked upon his outward appearance, which in fact offered little that was attractive.

His unusual height did not in the remotest degree harmonise with a remarkable leanness that served as a foil to an enormous humped back.

His dress was moreover calculated to intensify the strange impression produced by his appearance. Of a poor family, and too devoted to study to earn a living by teaching, he was perpetually driven to make use of his friends' cast off clothes. This he did without paying the least attention to their physical stature, and so it came to pa.s.s, that his threadbare silken doublet scarce covered his hump, that the much-darned slovenly cloth-breeches turned up their ends at the knee, where they should by right have joined on to the somewhat ragged silk stockings and left a notable gap very imperfectly filled up by a linen band; that the little close fitting cap, whose original black tended towards a very significant red, rested but lightly on his head covered with thick ma.s.ses of hair, and shook about at the slightest movement of the vivacious man. A grey beard, that hung untended down on his breast, was continually combed out by the fingers of his right hand, and when its bearer was engaged in any animated discussion was forced to submit to have its end turned up artistically into his mouth, and to be bitten, and in fact Reb Mordechai Wag's--that was the student's name--teeth had manifestly thinned this ornamental hair appendage. Notwithstanding this very unattractive exterior, Reb Mordechai Wag was everywhere well received. He had a quick intelligence that readily grasped the essence of Talmud truth, and a good heart. On account of his dialectics, he was a terror to all itinerant teachers who wished to lecture in Prague and a patron of all the humble students who came to the high school there.

Often, when as was the custom at that time, he was invited by some member of the community to dinner, he sent some one else in his place, who, less fortunate than himself had found no host that day, and while he gave out that he was ill, chewed his small crust of dry bread at home, and laughed at his own cunning. Study of the Talmud was the one highest aim of his life. It seemed to him impossible that a student could take interest in anything besides a lecture, and even to-day, when everything was in the greatest uproar, it was perfectly indifferent to him, whether the Palatine or the Duke Maximilian gained the victory, and his thoughts ran only in their accustomed track.--It was very unpleasant for Gabriel, just in his present temper, to have fallen into the hands of the sympathetic Reb Mordechai, and yet he was unwilling to draw the attention of the students to himself by making off in too great a hurry. He enveloped himself therefore more closely in the cloak that concealed his arms, and said struggling with his impatience: "I am sorry to have missed to-day's lecture, I shall take the earliest opportunity of asking you to impart to me what the...."

"Why put it of? I will tell you at once: what have we got better to do now?"

"I thought," replied Gabriel forcing a laugh, "a moment when every one looks excitedly forward to see what will happen next, when it will be decided whether the Emperor or the Palatine...."

"What does that matter to us students?" interrupted Reb Mordechai, provoked by Gabriel's opposition.... "The Emperor will be a mild ruler.... the Palatine and the Bohemian n.o.bility have also protected us Jews, but how can that be helped, they haven risen against the government, and you know, that is not right.--But let us leave all that to the Holy one, praised be his name--and occupy ourselves with an exposition of his words.... the master then...."