"He does not know either!" exclaimed Anna; "oh, believe me, sir, Palm is innocent. That pamphlet was sent to him, together with an anonymous letter."

"He ought to have taken care, then, not to circulate it," replied the general. "It is contrary to law to circulate a printed book, the author and printer of which are unknown to him who circulates it."

"No, general, it is not contrary to the laws of the German free city of Nuremberg. By an order of the Emperor of France, Nuremberg has been given to Bavaria, but the laws and privileges of our more liberal const.i.tution were guaranteed to our ancient free city. Hence, Palm has done nothing contrary to law."

"We judge according to our laws," said the general, shrugging his shoulders; "wherever we are there is France, and wherever we are insulted we hold him who insults us responsible for it, and punish him according to our laws. Your husband has committed a great crime; he has circulated a pamphlet reviling France and the Emperor of the French in the most outrageous manner. He refused to mention the author of this pamphlet; so long as he persists in his refusal, we take him for the author, and shall punish him accordingly. As he declined confessing any thing to me, I have surrendered him to my superiors. Mr. Palm left Nuremberg two hours ago for Ans.p.a.ch, where Marshal Bernadotte is going to judge him."

"Then I shall go to Ans.p.a.ch, to Marshal Bernadotte," said Anna; and without deigning to cast another glance at the general, she turned around and left the room.

She intended to set out this very hour, but her endeavors to find a conveyance to take her to Ans.p.a.ch proved unavailing. All the horses of the postmaster had been retained for the suite and baggage-wagons of Marshal Berthier, who was about setting out for Munich, and the proprietors of the livery-stables, owing to the approaching darkness and insecurity of the roads, refused to let her have any of their carriages.

Anna had to wait, therefore, until morning, and improved the long hours of the night in drawing up a pet.i.tion, which she intended to send to Marshal Bernadotte, in case he should refuse to grant her an interview.

Early next morning she at length started, but the roads were sandy and bad; the horses were lazy and weak, and she reached Ans.p.a.ch only late at night.

She had again to wait during a long, dreary night. No one could or would reply to her anxious inquiries whether Palm was really there, or whether he had been again sent to some other place. Trembling with inward fear and dismay, but firmly determined to dare every thing, and leave nothing untried that might lead to Palm's preservation, Anna repaired in the morning to the residence of Marshal Bernadotte.

The marshal's adjutant received her, and asked her what she wanted.

"I must see the marshal himself, for I shall read in his mien whether he will pardon or annihilate my husband," said Anna. "I beseech you, sir, have mercy on the grief of a wife, trembling for the father of her children. Induce the marshal to grant me an audience."

"I will see what can be done," said the adjutant, touched by the despair depicted on the pale face of the poor lady. But he returned in a few minutes after he had left her.

"Madame," he said, shrugging his shoulders, "I am sorry, but your wish cannot be fulfilled. The marshal will have nothing whatever to do with this affair, and declines interfering in it. For this reason, too, he did not admit Mr. Palm, who yesterday, like you, applied for an interview with the marshal, and I had to receive him in the place of the marshal, as I have now the honor to receive you."

"Oh, you have seen my husband?" asked Anna, almost joyfully. "You have spoken to him?"

"I have told him in the name of the marshal what I am now telling you, madame. The marshal is unable to do any thing whatever for your husband.

The order for his arrest came directly from Paris, from the emperor's cabinet, and the marshal, therefore, has not the power to revoke it and to prevent the law from taking its course. Moreover, Mr. Palm is no longer in Ans.p.a.ch, as he was sent to another place last night."

"Whither? Oh, sir, you will have mercy on me, and tell me whither my unfortunate husband has been sent."

"Madame," said the adjutant, timidly looking around as if he were afraid of being overheard by an eavesdropper, "he has been sent to Braunau."

Anna uttered a cry of horror. "To Braunau!" she said, breathlessly. "To Braunau, that is to say, out of the country. You do not wish to try a citizen and subject of Bavaria, for a crime which he is said to have committed in his own country, according to the laws of Bavaria, but according to those of a foreign and hostile state? My husband has been sent to Austria!"

"Pardon me, madame," said the adjutant, smiling, "the city of Braunau does not yet again belong to Austria; up to the present hour it is still French territory, for we took and occupied it during the war and have not yet given it back to Austria; hence, Mr. Palm will be tried in Braunau according to the laws of France."

"Oh, then he is lost," exclaimed Anna, in despair; "there is no more hope for him."

"If he be guilty, madame, he has deserved punishment; if he be innocent, no harm can befall him, for the laws of France are impartial and just."

"Oh, sir," said Anna, almost haughtily, "there are things which may seem deserving of punishment, nay, criminal, according to the laws of your country, but which, according to the laws of a German state, would not deserve any punishment, but, on the contrary, praise and acknowledgment."

"If what Mr. Palm has done is an offence of this description, I am sorry for him," said the adjutant, shrugging his shoulders. "But," he added, in a lower voice, "I will give you some good advice. Hasten to the French amba.s.sador at Munich. If he should decline granting you an audience, send him a pet.i.tion, stating the case of your husband truthfully and with full details, and asking for his intercession."

"And if he should not reply to my pet.i.tion; if he should refuse to intercede for me?"

"Then a last remedy will remain to you. In that case, apply to Marshal Berthier, who is now also at Munich. He has great power over the emperor, and will alone be able to help you. But lose no time."

"I shall set out this very hour, sir, and I thank you for your advice and sympathy. I see very well that you cannot do any thing for me, but you have granted me your compa.s.sion, and I thank you for it. Farewell, sir."

An hour later, Anna was on the road to Munich. After an exhausting journey of four days--for, at that time there were no turnpikes, much less railroads, in Bavaria--she reached Munich, where she stopped at a hotel.

She was utterly unacquainted in that capital; she had no friends, no protectors, no recommendations, and, as a matter of course, all doors were closed against her, and n.o.body would listen to her. n.o.body felt pity for the poor, despairing lady; n.o.body would listen to her complaints, for her complaints were at the same time charged against the all-powerful man who now held his hand stretched out over Bavaria, and was able to crush her whenever he chose to do so.

Anna, therefore, met with no encouragement at the hands of the German authorities, who even refused to hear a statement of her application.

She went to all the ministers, to all those on whom, according to their official position, it would have been inc.u.mbent to intercede for her.

She even ventured to enter the royal palace, and stood for hours in the anteroom, always hoping that her supplications would be heeded, and that some door would be opened to her.

But all doors were closed against her, even that of the French amba.s.sador. She had vainly applied to him for an audience; when her request had been refused, she had delivered to his attache a pet.i.tion which an attorney had drawn up for her, and in which all the points for and against Palm were lucidly stated. For a week she waited for a reply; for a week she went every morning to the residence of the French amba.s.sador and asked in the same gentle and imploring voice, whether there was any reply for her, and whether no answer had been returned to her application?

On the eighth day she was informed that no reply would be made to her pet.i.tion, and that the French amba.s.sador was unable to do any thing for her.

Anna did not weep and complain; she received this information with the gentle calmness of a martyr, and prayed instead of bursting into lamentations. She prayed to G.o.d that He might grant her strength not to despair, not to succ.u.mb to the stunning blow; she prayed to G.o.d that He might impart vigor to her body, so that it might not prevent her from doing her duty, and from seeking for further a.s.sistance for her beloved husband.

Strengthened and inwardly relieved by this prayer, Anna now repaired to the residence of Marshal Berthier; her step, however, was slower, a deep blush mantled her cheeks, which had hitherto been so pale, and her hands were no longer icy cold, but hot and red.

She did not apply for an audience on reaching the marshal's residence, for she already knew that such an application would meet with a refusal; she only took thither another copy of the pet.i.tion which she had delivered to the French amba.s.sador, and begged urgently for an early reply.

Her supplications were this time not destined to be unsuccessful, and she received a reply on the third day.

But this reply was even more terrible than if none whatever had been made. Marshal Berthier sent word to her by his adjutant that Palm had been placed before a court-martial at Braunau, and that no intercession and prayers would be of any avail, the decision being exclusively left with the court-martial.

A single, piercing cry escaped from Anna's breast when she received this information. Then she became again calm and composed. Without uttering another complaint, another prayer, she left the marshal's residence and returned to her hotel.

With perfect equanimity and coolness, she requested the waiter to bring her the bill and get her a carriage, so that she might set out at once.

Fifteen minutes later, the landlady herself appeared to present to Madame Palm the bill she had called for. She found Anna sitting quietly at the window, her hands folded on her lap, her head leaning on the high back of the chair, and her dilated eyes staring vacantly at the sky. Her small travelling-trunk stood ready and locked in the middle of the room.

The landlady handed her the paper silently, and then turned aside in order not to show the tears which, at the sight of the pale, gentle young wife, had filled her eyes.

Anna rose and quietly placed the money on the table. "I thank you, madame, for all the attention and kindness I have met with at your house," she said. "It only seems to me that my bill is much too moderate. You must have omitted many items, for it is impossible that I should not have used up any more than that during my prolonged sojourn in Munich."

"Madame," said the landlady, deeply moved, "I should be happy if you permitted me to take no money at all from you, but I know that that would offend you, and for that reason I brought you my bill. If you allow me to follow the promptings of my heart, I should say, grant me the honor of having afforded hospitality to so n.o.ble, brave, and faithful a lady, and, if you should consent, I should be courageous enough to utter a request which I dare not make now, because you would deem it egotistic."

"Oh, tell me what it is," said Anna, mildly; "for the last two weeks I have begged so much, and my requests were so often refused, that it would truly gratify me to hear from others a request which I might be able to fulfil."

"Well, then, madame," said the landlady, taking Anna's hand and kissing it respectfully, "I request you to stay here and not to depart. Afford me the pleasure of keeping you here in my house, of taking care and nursing you as a mother would nurse her daughter. I am old enough to be your mother, and you, my poor, beloved child, you need nursing, for you are sick."

"I feel no pain--I am not sick," said Anna, with a smile which was more heart-rending than loud lamentations.

"You are sick," replied the landlady; "your hands are burning with fever, and the roses blooming on your cheeks are not natural, but symptoms of your inward sufferings. During your whole sojourn in my house you have scarcely touched the food that was placed before you; frequently you have not gone to bed at night, and, instead of sleeping, restlessly paced your room. A fever is now raging in your delicate body, and if you do not take care of yourself, and use medicine, your body will succ.u.mb."

"No, it will not succ.u.mb," said Anna; "my heart will sustain it."

"But your heart, too, will break, if you do not take care of yourself,"

exclaimed the landlady, compa.s.sionately. "Stay here, I beseech you, do not depart. Stay as a guest at my house!"