Meanwhile the Tyrolese sharpshooter on the height above had reloaded his rifle and shot another soldier. On seeing this, he uttered a loud Jodler, made a leap of joy, and nodded laughingly to the enemy, who cast threatening glances on him. But he did not see that one of the officers below called four soldiers to him, pointed his hand at the top of the rock, and gave them a quick order. The four soldiers sprang at once from the ranks and disappeared in the shrubbery covering the base of the rock.

The sharpshooter was reloading his rifle, when the shrubbery behind him rustled, and, on turning hastily, be saw one of the soldiers rushing toward him. A cry of rage burst from the lips of the sharpshooter. He then raised his rifle and fired. The soldier fell, but at the same moment one of his comrades hastened from the thicket toward the top of the rock. Another cry burst from the sharpshooter's lips, but this time it sounded like a death-cry. He saw that he was lost, for already the uniforms of the other two soldiers were glittering among the trees, and the second soldier was only a few steps from the edge of the rock where the sharpshooter was standing. The Tyrolese cast a last despairing glance around him, as if to take leave of heaven and earth, and of the mountains and Valleys of his beloved Tyrol. Then he threw down his rifle and seized the soldier furiously. His arms encircled the body of his enemy like iron clasps, and he forced him with irresistible impetuosity toward the edge of the rock.

"In God's name, then," he shouted in a loud voice echoed by the rocks all around. "In God's name, then!"

With a last effort he threw himself with the soldier into the depth, and both disappeared in the waters of the Eisach.

Speckbacher's servant the faithful Zoppel, had seen and understood everything; and when the two sank into the foaming torrent, he wiped a tear from his eyes.

"He died like a brave son of the Tyrol," he murmured, "and the Holy Virgin will assuredly bid him kindly welcome. But we, Hisel, will avenge his death on the accursed enemy below."

"Yes, we will," cried the peasant grimly; and he raised his hatchet with a furious gesture.

"It is not yet time," said Zoppel thoughtfully. "Just wait until a larger body of troops has entered the defile. See, Hisel, how splendid they look in their gorgeous uniform, and how proudly they are marching on!"

The Saxons did march on proudly, but not with drums beating. They advanced in silence, filled with misgivings by the profound stillness which surrounded them all at once, listening attentively to every sound, and examining anxiously the top of every projecting rock.

The head of the serried column had arrived now directly under the hanging "avalanche" in the middle of the gloomy defile. The silence was suddenly broken by a loud angry voice, which seemed to resound in the air like the croaking of the death-angel.

This voice asked, "Zoppel, shall I cut the rope now?"

"Not yet! not yet!" replied another voice; and the precipitous rocks all around echoed "Not yet! not yet!"

The Saxons gave a start and looked up. Whence came these voices? What meant that huge black mass suspended on the precipitous side of the mountain right over their heads?

Thus they asked each other shudderingly and stood still, fixing their eyes on the black mass of rock and rubbish, which filled their hearts with wonder and dismay.

"Let us retrace our steps! Let us not penetrate farther into the defile," murmured the soldiers with trembling lips, but in so low a tone that the officers marching by their sides could not hear them.

But the officers, too, were filled with strange misgivings; they ordered the soldiers to halt, and hastened back to General Royer to report to him the mysterious words which they had heard, and to ask him whether they were to halt or retrace their steps.

"Advance at the double-quick!" commanded the general, sternly.

"Advance at the double-quick!" they repeated to their soldiers along the whole line; the latter, in obedience to this order, hurried on under the black mass which still hung threateningly over their heads.

All at once a powerful voice above shouted out: "Now, Hisel, in the name of the Holy Trinity, cut the ropes!" Thereupon they heard the strokes of two hatchets.

The soldiers, who were rushing forward in serried ranks, looked up again, and indescribable horror seized them. The black mass of rock and rubbish which had hitherto hung over them, commenced moving and rolling down with a terrible crash. A cloud of dust rose and filled the gloomy defile as with the smoke of powder. At the same time a heavy fire burst forth on all sides, and from amid the leafy screen the deadly bullets of the sharpshooters brought death with every discharge into the allied ranks. A death-like silence then ensued for a moment, for out of the depths rose the wails and lamentations of the hundreds of soldiers who had been crushed and mutilated by the "avalanche." The Tyrolese, filled with curiosity and compassion, looked down into the defile. The smoke and dust had disappeared, and they could distinctly survey the scene of horror, devastation, and death, in the gorge.

Happy those whom the falling "avalanche" had hurled from the narrow footpath into the foaming torrent! It is true, death had been in store for them there, but it had quickly put an end to their sufferings. But what was the agony of those who lay buried under the fragments of the rocks, their limbs fearfully mutilated! What were the sufferings of the hundreds of soldiers lying on the road, on this narrow, gory path, upon which the "avalanche" had thundered down!

It was a horrible sight; even the Tyrolese trembled on beholding this rubbish, these fragments, whence large numbers of bloody corpses protruded, and amidst which torn, mutilated limbs were moving, while here and there soldiers, covered all over with dust, and bleeding from fearful wounds, tried painfully to raise themselves from the ground.

Those of the Saxons who had not been struck by the terrible avalanche, fell back shuddering. When the Tyrolese saw this, their compassion at the cruel fate of the dead gave way, and with deafening shouts they burst forth from their concealment, and, mingling with the enemy, a frightful slaughter took place.

The Saxons rallied, however; courageous discipline presided over unskilled valor, and the column advanced slowly and painfully in the direction of the bridge, through a murderous fire, and surmounting the ruins which obstructed the road and covered the bodies of their comrades.

All at once exultant shouts and cheers resounded at the entrance of the defile, and the clarion-notes of martial music joined in these stirring acclamations. Fresh troops, re-enforcements of the Saxons, were coming up from the rear. The Bavarians had arrived with their artillery, which they had placed in a very favorable position; they had already taken the two farm-houses at the entrance of the gorge where the Tyrolese had taken position, and were now rushing into the defile. The Tyrolese, dismayed at this impetuous advance, retreated into the mountains.

For two days the struggle was continued in these gorges near Mittewald. For two days Saxons and Tyrolese opposed each other in this fratricidal contest, in which Germans fought against Germans in obedience to the behests of the tyrant who had subjugated all Germany, and to whom only the undaunted Tyrol still offered a stubborn resistance.

The victory was long undecided. Once the forces of the Duke of Dantsic succeeded at one extremity of the defile in driving back the sharpshooters under Joachim Haspinger, the Capuchin, and clearing a passage for the Saxons struggling in the gorge. But the Capuchin had retreated only to bring up fresh forces, dispatch messengers to Speckbacher, Peter Mayer, Andreas Hofer, and Anthony Wallner, sound the tocsin, and concentrate more armed peasants. And Speckbacher came up with his brave sharpshooters in the rear of the Saxons: Anthony Wallner and his men made their appearance like-wise; Peter Mayer brought up fresh forces; and Andreas Hofer sent word that he would be on hand speedily. But the Saxons were likewise re-enforced, both by the French, who moved up from Brixen, and the Bavarians, who approached from Sterzing.

The contest was continued with unabated violence, and both sides struggled obstinately for the victory. But the Tyrolese fought for their rights, their liberty, their German country; the Saxons and Bavarians fought for tyranny, for the foreign oppressor, and the subjugation of their countrymen. God granted victory to the Tyrolese, and in the defile of Mittewald upward of a thousand Saxons had to atone by their death for having fought at the bidding of the French conqueror on German soil against their German countrymen.

The Tyrolese fought for their rights, their liberty, their German country; and the Duke of Dantsic, the proud marshal of France, was defeated by the despised peasants; he had to flee from their wrath, and arrived without his cloak and hat, trembling and deathly pale, on his foaming horse at Sterzing, which he had left a few hours previously with the firm conviction that he would inflict a crushing defeat upon the "haughty peasant-rabble." Now this "haughty peasant- rabble" had defeated him.

God is with those who fight for the rights and liberty of Germany. God is with those who rise boldly against French tyranny and French arrogance!



CHAPTER XXXII.

THE FIFTEENTH OF AUGUST AT INNSPRUCK.

God is with those who fight for the rights and liberty of Germany. He had granted another victory to the Tyrolese.

Animated by their brilliant successes, the patriots no longer stood on the defensive, but, flocking from all quarters to the standard of Hofer, assembled in great multitudes on Mount Isel, the scene of their former triumphs, and destined to be immortalized by a still more extraordinary victory. Lefebvre had collected his whole force, consisting of twenty-six thousand men, of whom two thousand were horse, with forty pieces of cannon, on the little plain which lies between Innspruck and the foot of the mountains on the southern side of the Inn. They were far from being animated, however, by their wonted spirit; the repeated defeats they had experienced had inspired them with that mysterious dread of the mountaineers with which regular troops are so often seized, when, contrary to expectation, they have been worsted by undisciplined bodies of men; and a secret feeling of the injustice of their cause, and the heroism with which they had been resisted, paralyzed many an arm which had never trembled before a regular army.

The Tyrolese consisted of eighteen thousand men, three hundred of whom were Austrian soldiers who had refused to follow their officers, and remained to share the fate of the inhabitants. They were tolerably supplied with ammunition, but had little provisions, in consequence of which several hundred peasants had already gone back to their homes.

Joseph Speckbacher commanded the right wing, whose line extended from the heights of Passberg to the bridges of Hall and Volders; Hofer was with the centre, and had his headquarters at the inn of Spade, on the Schoenberg; Haspinger directed the left, and advanced by Mutters.

At four in the morning, the brave Capuchin roused Hofer from sleep, and, having first united with him in fervent prayer, hurried out to communicate his orders to the outposts.

The battle commenced at six, and continued without intermission till midnight, the Bavarians constantly endeavoring to drive the Tyrolese from their position on Mount Isel, and they, in their turn, to force the enemy back into the town of Innspruck.

For a long time the contest was undecided, the superior discipline and admirable artillery of the enemy prevailing over the impetuous but disorderly assaults and deadly aim of the mountaineers; but toward nightfall the bridge of the Sill was carried after a desperate struggle, and their left flank being thus turned, the French and Bavarians gave way on all sides, and were pursued with great slaughter into the city. They lost six thousand men, of whom seventeen hundred wounded fell into the hands of the Tyrolese, while on the side of the latter not more than nine hundred had fallen. Lefebvre had to retreat hastily toward Salzburg, where his whole army was collected on the 20th.

This great victory was immediately followed by the liberation of the whole Tyrol; and when, on the morning of the 15th of August, the sun rose over Innspruck, Andreas Hofer and his victorious host stood on Mount Isel, gazing with profound emotion on the reeking, gory battle-field, on which, two days ago, war had raged with all its horrors, and on the city of Innspruck, whose smoking and burning houses betokened the last outburst of the rage of the fugitive French marshal. [Footnote: "Gallery of Heroes: Andreas Hofer," p. 126.]

"See how much blood it has cost, and how many wrongs had to be committed, that we might obtain our rights!" sighed Andreas Hofer, pointing to the battle-field. "My heart overflows with pity on seeing these horrors, and I implore you all to be merciful with the wounded and to treat the prisoners leniently. Among these prisoners are about one thousand Bavarians and Saxons. See, they are standing down yonder in dense groups, and our men surround them, mocking and abusing them. Go down to them, dear Secretary Doeninger; tell them to be merciful and compassionate, and to bear always in mind that the prisoners are no longer their enemies, but their German brethren; that they are Saxons and Bavarians, speak one and the same language with us, and are our countrymen. Repeat this to our men, Doeninger, and say to them in my name, 'Do not injure the prisoners; they are Saxons and Bavarians, and good and brave men!'" [Footnote: Andreas Hofer's own words.—Ibid., p. 125.]

"They are not exactly good men," said Speckbacher, who was standing on the right side of Andreas Hofer; "no, they are not exactly good men, Andy; otherwise they would not have fought against us, who are assuredly good men and have done nothing but defend our dear country."

Instead of replying to him, Andreas Hofer turned smilingly to the Capuchin, who was standing on his left side. "Brother Joachim," he said gently, "you ought to exhort our Joseph here a little, that he may comply with the Redeemer's precept and forgive his enemies. He is a very good, but very stubborn fellow; a brave and excellent soldier, but it would do him no harm if he were a better Christian."

"If we had been good Christians latterly we should never have defeated the enemy," growled the Capuchin, shaking his head. "If we were good Christians, we should have to love our enemies, do good to them that hate us, and pray for those who despitefully use us and persecute us. So long as we are soldiers, Andy, we cannot be good Christians; and I thank God for it that we fought like downright brave heathens. But after the enemy has been expelled from the country, and peace prevails again everywhere, and I have returned to my tedious convent at Seeben, I will become again a pious Capuchin, and exhort our dear brave Joseph Speckbacher to become as good a Christian as our Andreas Hofer."

"No, no, brother Joachim, we will not wait until then to show to the world that we are good Christians," exclaimed Andreas. "God stood by us in the battle of Mount Isel and made us victorious over our enemies. Let us thank Him, therefore, for His surpassing goodness and mercy; let us pray Him to bless our victory and grant a glorious resurrection to those who had to sacrifice their lives for it."

He drew his large rosary from his bosom, and, lifting his eyes devoutly to heaven, sank down on his knees.

"Yes, let us pray God to bless our victory," said Father Haspinger, bending his knees like Andreas Hofer; and Joseph Speckbacher followed his example.

And the pious Tyrolese, seeing their leaders kneeling on the height above, were filled with devout emotion; they knelt likewise; their cheers and Jodlers, their shouts and laughter died away; only prayers were heard from their lips, and, as an accompaniment to them, the melodious peals of the bells, with which the people of Innspruck were celebrating the departure of the French marshals, and the approach of the defenders of the country.

At this moment the sun burst forth from the clouds, and shed a radiant lustre on this whole sublime scene—the three kneeling heroes on the height above, and all around the Tyrolese, clad in their picturesque national costume, kneeling and thanking God, with tears in their eyes, for the victory He had vouchsafed to them.

The Bavarian and Saxon prisoners, carried away by this spectacle, knelt down like the Tyrolese, and prayed to God, like their enemies- -not thanking Him, as the latter did, for the victory, but for having made them prisoners, of good and pious victors. [Footnote: Mayer's "Joseph Speckbacher," p. 196.]

All at once this pious scene was interrupted by loud cheers, shouts, and Jodlers, and a long, imposing procession of singing, jubilant men ascended the mountain. The new-comers were the students of Innspruck, who came to congratulate Andreas Hofer on his brilliant victory, and accompany him on his triumphal entry into the city. Many persons followed them, and all shouted exultingly, "Where is Andreas Hofer, the savior of the country? Where is Andreas Hofer, the liberator?"

The band heading the procession of the students, struck up a ringing flourish on beholding Andrews, who had risen from his knees at their approach. But he raised his arm imperatively; the band ceased playing immediately, and the cheers died away on the lips of the students, who bowed respectfully to the tall, imposing form of the Barbone.

"Hush, hush," said Andreas, gravely; "pray! No cheers, no music! Neither I nor any of us did it; all the glory is due to Him above!" [Footnote: Andreas Hofer's own words, Ibid., p. 197.]

"But you helped the good God a little," said the speaker of the students, "and therefore you must submit to accept the thanks of the whole Tyrol, and to being called the savior and liberator of the country. We come to you as messengers of the capital of the Tyrol, and are instructed to request you to tarry no longer, but make your triumphal entry into the city."

"Yes, I will come," exclaimed Andreas, joyfully; "what I implored of the Lord as the highest boon has been realized now: we shall make our triumphal entry into the city, where the mean enemy behaved so shamefully. Return to Innspruck, my friends, and say to the inhabitants that we shall be in the city in the course of an hour— old Red-beard, Speckbacher, and I—and that we shall be glad to meet all our excellent friends there again."

And an hour afterward Andreas Hofer and his friends made their entry into Innspruck. He sat in a gorgeous carriage, drawn by four splendid white horses, which he himself had taken from a French colonel during his flight across the Brenner. By the side of the Sandwirth sat Joachim Haspinger, the Capuchin, and beside the carriage rode Joseph Speckbacher, with a radiant face, and his dark, fiery eyes beaming with triumphant joy, he was mounted on the proud magnificently-caparisoned charger that had borne the haughty Duke of Dantsic two days ago.

The carriage was preceded by a crowd of rejoicing peasants, and a band of fifers and fiddlers; carpets and banners hung from all the windows and balconies; ladies in beautiful attire greeted the conquering hero with waving handkerchiefs; and the people in the streets, the ladies on the balconies, and the boys on the roofs and in the trees, shouted enthusiastically, "Long live Andreas Hofer! Long live the commander-in-chief of the Tyrol!" And the bells pealed, the cannon posted on the market-place thundered, and the fifers and fiddlers made as much noise as possible.

"Listen, brother Haspinger," said Andreas Hofer, turning to the Capuchin, while the carriage was moving on slowly, "I should really dislike to enter the city always amid such fuss and noise; and I believe it is heavy work for princes always to look well pleased and cheerful when they are so much molested by the enthusiasm of the people. I looked forward with a great deal of joy to the day when we should make our entry into the city, and I thought it would be much more beautiful; but now I am greatly tired of the whole thing; I should be glad if they would cease fiddling, and clear a passage for the carriage to move on more rapidly. I am hungry, and I would I were already at the tavern of my dear friend Niederkircher."

"Well, you must learn to put on a pleasant face when the people cheer you," said Haspinger, laughing. "You have now become a prince too, and I think your people will love you dearly."

"What nonsense is that, brother?" asked Hofer, angrily.

"It is no nonsense at all, Andy; on the contrary, it is quite true. Just listen to their acclamations."

"Long live Andreas Hofer!" shouted the crowd, which was dancing and singing around the carriage. "Long live the commander-in-chief of the Tyrol!"

"They call me commander-in-chief of the Tyrol," said Andreas, musingly. "Tell me, Joachim, is it necessary for me to assume that title?"

"Yes, it is. There must be a head of the state, a man to whom the people may look up as its star, and to whom it may apply as its comfort, support, and judge. And as the people have confidence in you and love you, you must be the man to hold the whole together, lest it should fall asunder. You shall be the head, and we others will be your hands and thoughts, and will work and fight, and think for you and the Tyrol. We must have a leader, a commander-in-chief of the Tyrol, and you are the man, Andy."

"If you say so, it must be so," said Andreas, nodding his head gently. "Well, then, I shall be commander-in-chief of the Tyrol until order and peace are restored, and until the enemy has been expelled from the country for evermore. But see, we have arrived in front of Niederkircher's tavern, and there is Niederkircher himself with his dear round face. God bless you, Niederkircher, why do you look at me so solemnly, and why have you dressed up so nicely? Why, you wear your holiday clothes, and yet I think this is neither Sunday nor a holiday."

"It is a great holiday," exclaimed Niederkircher, "the commander-in- chief of the Tyrol, the great Andreas Hofer, is making his triumphal entry into the city. That is why I have put on my Sunday clothes and look so solemn; for it would not be becoming for me to embrace the distinguished commander-in-chief of the Tyrol, as I should like to do under other circumstances."

"You are a fool, old fellow!" said Andreas, encircling his friend's neck with his arm; "if I am commander-in-chief before the world, I am, before my friends, always Andreas Hofer, the Sandwirth and humble peasant. Let us go into the house, my dear friend; and you Joachim, come with us. There! Take me to the small back room which I always occupy during my stay in the city."

"God forbid!" exclaimed the innkeeper; "you never must occupy the back room again; that would not be becoming for the commander-in- chief of the Tyrol. You must take my best room with the balcony opening on the street; besides, all is there in readiness for your reception."

"Must I take it, Joachim?" said Andreas to the Capuchin, almost anxiously.

"Yes, Andy, you must," replied the friar. "You must do honor to your new dignity, and to us all."

"It is a pity that I must do so," sighed Andreas. "I was so glad that I should soon be in the old back room, where it is so cozy and quiet, and where you do not hear any thing of the noise and shouting outside. But, if it cannot be helped, let us go to the best room; but pray, if it is possible, give us something to eat there. Some sound dumplings and a glass of native wine, friend Niederkircher."

"No, no, Andreas Hofer, that will not do today," replied the innkeeper; "I have had all my servants at work in the kitchen ever since sunrise, and you will have a dinner suitable for the commander-in-chief of the Tyrol."

"I should have preferred dumplings and native wine in the small back room," said Andreas Hofer, dolefully, while he ascended with the innkeeper and the Capuchin to the best room on the first floor.

This was a very fine room indeed, and even though it was not as cozy as the back room for which Hofer bad longed, it was at all events very agreeable to him to be once more under a hospitable roof, and enjoy a little rest and tranquillity. In the middle of the room stood a table handsomely festooned with flowers, and covered with bottles of wine, cake, and all sorts of fruit.

"Now, my distinguished friends, make yourselves as comfortable as possible," said Niederkircher, cheerfully; "lie down awhile on the silken divan and repose. Meanwhile I will go to the kitchen and order dinner to be served to the commander-in-chief and his two generals, Haspinger and Speckbacher."

"I shall comply with your request," growled the Capuchin, "and make myself as comfortable as possible."

He burled his heavy, dusty leathern shoes quickly from his feet into a corner of the room; he then lay down on the carpet in front of the divan, and stretching his limbs, exclaimed, "Forsooth, I have not been able for a long while to make myself as comfortable as to-day!"

"But you, commander-in-chief," said Niederkircher, beseechingly, "I hope, will not disdain my divan? Rest there a little, Andy, until the waiters bring you your dinner."

"God forbid! I must first attend to my horses," exclaimed Andreas. "I suppose, Niederkircher, you saw my four splendid white horses? They are honest war-spoils; I will keep them forever and never sell them, although I could get a round sum for them, for they are fine animals; only the first horse on the right-hand side, I believe, is a little weak in the chest, and ought not to be overworked. Before going to dinner and making myself comfortable, I must go and feed the horses and see if they are comfortable. You know, Niederkircher, I have always fed my horses myself, and will do so to-day also."

And he hastened toward the door; but Niederkircher ran after him and kept him back.

"For God's sake. Hofer," he cried in dismay, "what are you going to do? Why, you are not a horse-trader nor the Sandwirth to-day, but commander-in-chief of the Tyrol."

"It is true, I forgot it," sighed Andreas. "Go, then, dear friend, get us our dinner, and have a large bundle of hay put into the manger of the horses.—But, great God! what dreadful noise is that in the street? Why, those men are shouting so loudly that the walls are shaking and the windows rattling! What do they want? Why do they always repeat my name? Look out, Niederkircher, and see what is the matter."

Niederkircher hastened to the window and drew the curtain aside in order to look out into the street. A dense crowd was assembled in front of the tavern; it was incessantly cheering and shouting: "Andreas Hofer! Come out! Long live the commander-in-chief of the Tyrol, the liberator! We want to see him, we must thank him for delivering us from the enemy. Andreas Hofer! Andreas Hofer!"

"You cannot get around it, Andy; you must step out on the balcony," said Niederkircher, stepping back from the window. "The people are perfectly beside themselves with love and enthusiasm, and will not keep quiet until you come out and make a speech to them. Do, my friend, step out on the balcony!"

"Must I do it?" asked Andreas, dolefully, turning to the Capuchin, who was stretching himself comfortably on the carpet.

"You must, brother," said Haspinger, gravely. "The people wish to see their beloved leader, and it would be ungrateful not to accept their love."

Andreas Hofer sighed, but he yielded and approached the balcony, the doors of which were thrown open by the innkeeper.

No sooner had the thousands assembled in front of the house beheld the tall form of their favorite leader, than thundering cheers rent the air; all waved their hats and shouted, "Long live Andreas Hofer! Long live the commander-in-chief of the Tyrol!"

And now a feeling of profound emotion overcame the tender, grateful heart of Andreas Hofer; joy and ecstasy filled his soul in the face of so much love and enthusiasm, and tears of the most unalloyed bliss glistened in his eyes, which greeted the jubilant people with tender, loving glances. He was anxious to thank these kind people and give utterance to his love; and he lifted up his arm, asking them to be quiet that he might address them.

The cheers and acclamations ceased immediately, and Hofer spoke amidst the breathless silence of the crowd in a loud, ringing voice:

"God bless you, dear people of Innspruck! As you wanted me to become your commander-in-chief, I am now in your midst. But there are many other Tyrolese who are not inhabitants of Innspruck. All who wish to be my comrades must fight as brave and honest Tyrolese for God, the emperor, and our fatherland. Those who are unwilling to do so must go back to their homes. Those who wish to become my comrades must never desert me. I shall not desert you either, as sure as my name is Andreas Hofer! You have seen me now, and heard what I had to say to you; therefore good-by!" [Footnote: Hofer's own words.—See "Gallery of Heroes: Andreas Hofer," p.126.]

When Hofer had concluded his speech, thundering cheers rent again the air; they continued even after he had left the balcony, closed the door after him, and stepped back into the room.

"That was a very fine speech, Andy," said Niederkircher, shaking hands with him, and gazing tenderly into his flushed face. "It was evident that your words were not learned by rote, but came from your heart, and hence they could not but make a profound impression. But now, commander-in-chief of the Tyrol, dinner is ready. The soup is already on the table, and I myself shall have the honor of waiting on you."

"But Speckbacher is not yet here," said Andreas Hofer, "and we cannot dine without him. We fought and worked together; now we will also rest and attend to our comforts together. Do you not think so too, brother Red-beard?"

But the Capuchin made no reply, or rather he responded only by a loud and long snore.

"By the Holy Virgin! Haspinger has fallen asleep on the floor yonder," exclaimed Andreas, smiling.

"Let us waken him, then," said Niederkircher, turning to the sleeper.

"No, my friend, no, we will not do so," whispered Andreas, drawing him back. "Our faithful and brave brother Red-beard has been so long awake and at work that we must let him rest, and it would be very wrong in us to arouse him from his sleep. Let us defer dinner, therefore, until Speckbacher is here, and until Haspinger has slept enough."

"But you said you were hungry, Andreas—Why do you want to wait, then? Why do you not dine now and let the other two dine afterward? You are commander-in-chief, the highest officer of all, and they must do as it suits you, and you must not do as it suits them."

"Do not repeat such nonsense," cried Andreas, vehemently.

"I am commander-in-chief only because it is necessary that there should be one to hold the whole together lest it should fall asunder. That is what Father Haspinger said, and it is true. But even though I am commander-in-chief of the Tyrol, I am not commander-in-chief of my friends in my intimate intercourse with them. All three of us have worked to the best of our power for the fatherland, and I have not done more than Speckbacher or the Capuchin. It is true, I am hungry, but I shall not go to dinner without my friends; moreover, it is good that they are not here yet, and that I have a little time left. The cravings of my stomach made me almost forget my duty to God, and by the absence of my friends He reminds me that I owe Him something and must come to Him. Keep your fine soup, therefore, a little while, Niederkircher; I will, in the mean time, go to the church of the Franciscans to report there to the Lord as His faithful servant and soldier."

He took his black Tyrolese hat, descended hastily the staircase, and went into the street. He had not noticed the dissatisfied air of Niederkircher, and the fact that the innkeeper had not even thanked him for his greeting; for all his thoughts were now fixed upon God, and he reproached himself contritely with almost forgetting God, owing to the cravings of his stomach.

"Forgive me, my Lord and God," he murmured, on entering the gloomy nave of the church, "for not coming to Thee at once!"

He walked up the aisle with a noiseless, hurried step, in order not to disturb the worshippers, to one of the small altars, before which he knelt down devoutly.

"Here I am, my Lord and God," he murmured, clasping his hands, "to render homage to Thee and thank Thee for delivering us from the enemy and granting victory to us. I thank Thee for it from the bottom of my heart, for Thy mercy was with us, and Thou didst lead us as a true general. Guide us henceforth likewise, my Lord and God, and stand by Thy faithful servant, that he may not fail in the difficult task which he has now taken upon himself. Lord, Thou knowest that vanity and pride do not prompt me to become more than I ought to be; Thou knowest that I would rather be quietly at home with my wife and children, than play the distinguished gentleman here and assume an aristocratic title. But the Capuchin, who is wiser than I, says it must be so, and I must be commander-in-chief. Hence, I submit patiently, and consent to play the ruler here until Thou, my Lord and God, allowest me again to be Thy humble and simple servant, and to return to my beloved Anna Gertrude, my three little daughters, and my dear little boy. O Holy Virgin, watch with maternal care over my dear ones at home; protect them, and grant peace to their hearts, that they may not tremble for my safety. Grant peace to us all, Holy Mother of God, and—"

"Look, look, there he is!" shouted a loud voice behind him, interrupting him in his prayer. "See, there is the great hero! How humbly he is kneeling before the altar! Look at Andreas Hofer."

Andreas Hofer turned, indignant at the interruption and the words so loudly uttered in that sacred place. He saw several hundred persons thronging the aisle and fixing their eyes upon him. All crowded forward and raised their heads to see Andreas Hofer, admire his fine beard, and examine his whole appearance. They bad followed him quietly, and as the news that Andreas Hofer, commander-in-chief of the Tyrol, had gone to the church of the Franciscans, spread rapidly, all had hastened thither to see him and render him homage.

But Andreas Hofer thought this homage decidedly irksome, and he was angry that the spectators had disturbed his prayer. He, therefore, made a bitter-sweet face in response to the enthusiastic demonstrations and affectionate greetings of the people, and elbowed his way hastily toward the door.

"I thank you for your attachment," he said to those who were close to him, "but I should have been better pleased if you had allowed me quietly to pursue my way, and had not interrupted my prayer. But now pray let me go home alone, and do not follow me. It may be becoming for aristocratic gentlemen to have a large suite behind them, but I am only a simple Tyrolese like you all, and do not want to be any thing else. Moreover, I am a very ordinary-looking man, and there is no reason whatever why you should stare at me in this manner. Pray, therefore, do not go with me, but let the return quietly to Niederkircher's tavern, where I am going to dine."

They obeyed, of course, and opened a passage for him to step out of the church door. But thereupon they rushed out to look after him and shout, "Long live Andreas Hofer, the pious commander-in-chief of the Tyrol!" But no one ventured to follow him; all gazed affectionately and reverentially after his tall form, as he walked with a slow and dignified step down the street.

"There are strange people in these cities," murmured Hofer to himself, while walking along; "they do not even let me pray quietly, and are as curious as swallows. They follow me everywhere, and stare at me as though I were a wild beast. If that is being a famous man, I do not care for fame; and for the whole world I would not be an aristocratic or famous man all my lifetime. When peace has been restored to the country, and there is no longer an enemy to fight, they will forget my humble services, and I shall live again quietly at my inn in the Passeyr valley. No one will then run after the Sandwirth when he comes to Innspruck to sell horses; and I shall sit again in Niederkircher's back room, eat dumplings, and drink native wine. Ah, Holy Virgin, let it soon be so again, that the commander- in-chief may be again Sandwirth Andreas Hofer."

"Hurrah, long live the commander-in-chief of the Tyrol!" shouted at this moment some men who had recognized him, and stood still to do homage to him as though he were a sovereign prince.

Andreas Hofer accelerated his step, and was very glad on reaching the tavern soon afterward.



CHAPTER XXXIII.

ANDREAS HOFER, THE EMPEROR'S LIEUTENANT.

Andreas ascended the staircase hastily, and entered the balcony- room.

The Capuchin had now risen from the carpet; Joseph Speckbacher was with him, and both hastened to meet Andreas Hofer.

"You have kept us waiting a long while, brother," said the Capuchin, indignantly; "you ought to have borne in mind that we have not eaten any thing, and are, therefore, very hungry."

"Yes, Father Andy," exclaimed Speckbacher, smiling, "you hung our bread-basket very high; we are quite weak from waiting and hunger."

"Now they blame ME for keeping THEM waiting," said Andreas mildly. "And yet I think they kept me waiting, and hunger drove me to the church. Well, never mind, my dear friends and comrades; we are together now, and I am very glad of it. Look at Niederkircher and his large dish! How splendidly it smokes and smells, and how good it will be to eat! Well, Niederkircher, put the dish on the table here, and sit down and dine with us."

"No, no, commander-in-chief, it is my duty to-day to wait on you, for you are now a highly distinguished gentleman, and so are the other two; hence, it would not behoove me to dine with you."

"If you refuse to do so. I shall not eat at all," cried Andreas Hofer.

"And I shall run away," said Speckbacher, jumping up from his chair.

"I shall sit still," growled the Capuchin, "but I shall henceforth turn my back upon Neiderkircher if he allows our soup to become cold instead of sitting down at once and dining with us."

"I will do so," cried Niederkircher, moving a chair to the table, and seating himself on it. "But now my friends, permit me at least to fill your plates."

"We will not object to that!" exclaimed the three friends, laughing; "and pray fill them well, Niederkircher."

There was a long pause now; nothing was heard but the rattling of the spoons on the plates. All at once this comfortable silence was broken by deafening cheers and shouts uttered on the street.

Hofer dropped his spoon, frowned, and listened. "I believe they are calling me again," he sighed, dolefully.

He was not mistaken. Hundreds of youthful voices were heard shouting Andreas Hofer's name, and their cheers were followed by a loud, ringing flourish of violins, fifes, bugles, and trumpets.

"They have musicians with them," exclaimed Hofer, anxiously. "Holy Virgin, just listen how they are roaring! It seems as if they were intent on upsetting the house."

"They are calling you, they want to see you," said Niederkircher, who had stepped to the window. "They are the students of the university; they have come in their holiday attire to serenade you."

"And why do they want to serenade ME?" asked Andreas Hofer, almost indignantly. "Why not Speckbacher, or the Capuchin, or Peter Mayer, or Anthony Wallner? They all did just as much as I did, and perhaps even more."

"But you are the people's favorite, brother," said the Capuchin, smiling; "the people believe in you, and it would be cruel and short-sighted in us to shake their faith in you. Every thing must come from you; you must have done and accomplished every thing."

"And what we others did, we did only in your name, Father Andy!" exclaimed Speckbacher; "the people and the sharpshooters would not have obeyed us so well, had they not believed that you had issued all the orders and instructions which we gave them. On hearing your name they obeyed, fought well, and were confident that we should succeed. And for this reason they are justified in coupling your name with the celebration of the victory. Just listen how they are shouting your name! It is true, the dear boys have tremendous lungs, and if you do not comply with their wishes, and show yourself on the balcony, I am afraid they will make us deaf and themselves quite hoarse."

"Well, I do not care," sighed Andreas; "open the door again, Niederkircher, I must step out on the balcony."

"And make another fine speech as before," said the innkeeper, throwing open the folding-doors.

Andreas made no reply, but went to the balcony with a grave and almost angry face. Deafening cheers greeted him, and the dense crowd assembled in the street shouted: "Long live Andreas Hofer, the commander-in-chief! Long live Andreas Hofer, the liberator!"

"My brave son, Joseph Speckbacher," said the Capuchin, filling his glass, "you see every one gets his due in the end. Day before yesterday, while we were fighting in the sweat of our brows on Mount Isel, my dear brother Andreas Hofer sat up at his friend Etschmann's tavern. A bottle of wine stood before him, and his rosary lay on the table; and while we were fighting, he prayed and drank, and sent us from time to time his orders, which sounded like oracles, which no one understood, and which every one interpreted as he deemed prudent. Now he must toil in his turn and fight with his tongue, while we are sitting here snugly and drinking our wine. There is another flourish outside! Trara! trara!"

And the Capuchin waved his glass and emptied it at one draught.

Suddenly the crowd in the street became silent; a student came forward and advanced several steps toward the balcony.

"Andreas Hofer, beloved commander-in-chief of the Tyrol," he said, in a loud, solemn voice, "our hearts are full of love for you and praise of your heroic deeds, and our lips, too, would like to overflow. Permit us, therefore, noble, hero, beloved liberator, to sing before you a song glorifying your exploits; a song praising your struggles and victories; a song which will henceforth be sung by every man, woman, and child, throughout the Tyrol. We students wrote the song, for your heroic deeds filled our hearts with enthusiasm, and our attachment to you taught us the finest music for it, Permit us, therefore, to sing before you the song of the victorious hero Andreas Hofer."

"No, no, my dear friends, do not sing," exclaimed Hofer, gravely and almost angrily. "Do not sing, and do not play any longer on your fifes and violins. We did not take the field to sing and dance, and I did not leave my wife and children at home with a light heart, but with tears and anxiety. But I did it because it was the Lord's will; and as He accompanied me into battle we succeeded in defeating the enemy. But it was a hard and mournful task; many brave and excellent men lost their limbs or even their lives, and many wounded patriots are yet imploring God to relieve them of their terrible agony. And while they are groaning and wailing, can you wish to sing? While so many fathers and mothers are lamenting their fallen sons, can you wish to exult here and make music? No, my dear friends, that would not be becoming for a Christian and charitable people. You had better lay your violins aside and take up your rosaries. Do not sing, but pray. Pray aloud and fervently for our beloved emperor, and, if you like, you may add a low prayer for poor Andreas Hofer. But you shall not sing any songs in his honor, for God alone accomplished it all, and homage should be rendered to none but Him. Therefore, do not sing, but pray. Pray in my name, too, for I have not much time now, and cannot pray as much as I should like to do. Say to the good God that we toiled honestly and bravely; say to Him that we suffered privations, watched, fought, and conquered, for the fatherland; and pray to Him for the brave men who accompanied us to the holy struggle, and who will never return, but have succumbed to their mortal wounds. Do not sing, but pray for their poor souls. Play your merry melodies no longer, but go home quietly and pray God to protect us henceforth as He has heretofore. That is what I wish to tell you, my dear friends. And now God bless you, and accept my heart-felt thanks for your love and attachment." [Footnote: "Gallery of Heroes: Andreas Hofer," p. 130.]

The students, seized with profound emotion, and deeply impressed by the simple yet soul-stirring words of Andreas Hofer, complied quietly and willingly with his request. Their fifes, violins, and bugles became silent, and the crowd dispersed noiselessly, without uttering any more cheers and acclamations.

"They are fine, dear lads," said Andreas Hofer, looking after them with beaming eyes; "strong and hearty lads, full of spirits and impetuosity, but on the other hand so gentle and submissive!—Well, now," he exclaimed joyfully, stepping back into the room, "I hope we shall have some rest, and shall be able to finish our dinner in peace."

This hope, however, was not to be fulfilled. The dinner was not yet over by any means, when cheers and loud noise resounded once more in the street, and another solemn procession approached the tavern. This time, however, the members of the procession did not remain in the street, but entered the house, and the landlord, who had just gone down stairs to fetch some more bottles of wine from the cellar, hastened back to the balcony-room and announced that all the commanders of the Landsturm, and the municipal officers had arrived to pay their respects to the commander-in-chief of the Tyrol and communicate a request to him.

"Well, then," sighed Hofer, rising, "let them come in here. I see that our dinner is spoiled anyhow. Let them come in here, Niederkircher."

"God forbid! there are so many of them that they would not have room here; besides, it would not be becoming for you to receive all these gentlemen here where there is a dinner-table. I have conducted them all to the large ballroom; they await you there, Andreas Hofer."

"I would I knew what they want of me," sighed Hofer, stroking his long beard.

" I know what they want, Father Andy," said Speckbacher, smiling. "I myself suggested to the commanders of the Landsturm the plan of asking of you what they are going to communicate to you now. And you must not refuse to comply with their request, Father Andy; for the good of the country demands that you should yield, and the emperor himself will thank you for so doing."

"I know likewise what these gentlemen want of you, brother Andy," exclaimed the Capuchin, filling his glass. "I was yesterday already in Innspruck, where I conferred with the mayor and the members of the city council, and they will tell you now what we resolved then. You must not resist, brother; you must, on the contrary, comply with their request; for it is God's will that you should, and therefore you must. Now go to the ballroom, dear Andy."

"I shall not, unless you two accompany me thither," answered Andreas Hofer, emphatically. "They will finally believe I wish to monopolize all honors, and will charge me with forgetting that Haspinger and Speckbacher, day before yesterday, did a great deal more than myself at the battle of Mount Isel, and that we should never have gained a victory there without them. Therefore, you must walk side by side with me, one on my right, the other on my left hand; and we will enter the ballroom just as we fought in battle."

On entering the ballroom, where the commanders of the Landsturm in their uniforms and the officers of the municipality had ranged themselves along the walls, the three heroes were received with three deafening cheers; and this time Andreas Hofer was not bold enough to tell the enthusiastic gentlemen to be silent, but he looked quite respectfully at the mayor in his long black robe, who was approaching him with a grave step between two members of the city council.

"We come," he said, solemnly, "not only to thank you for the heroic deeds which you have performed, but to pray you to do still more for us and the fatherland. You have delivered the country from the enemy, but there is lacking to it a head, a crown. The Bavarian government commission, and Count Rechberg the king's lieutenant, have escaped from Innspruck with the French forces. We are free from the Bavarian yoke; we are no longer governed by the king's lieutenant, and in his place we want a lieutenant of the emperor. There must be one in whose hands all power is concentrated, and who rules over the country in the emperor's name. You must fill this position, Andreas Hofer. The authorities and the people of Innspruck elect you the emperor's lieutenant. You shall govern the country in his name, and we will all swear to you obedience, fidelity, and love."

After he had concluded his address, Anthony Wallner stepped forth from the ranks of the commanders of the Landsturm. "Yes," he exclaimed. "you shall be the emperor's lieutenant. We will all swear to you obedience, fidelity, and love. We commanders of the Landsturm wished to say this to our commander-in-chief, and this was the reason why we came hither. We want to pray you to govern the Tyrol in the emperor's name. Your consent would give us the greatest satisfaction."

"We want to pray you," said one of the members of the city council, coming forward from the midst of his colleagues, "to take up your residence as the emperor's lieutenant in the imperial palace on the Remplatz."

"That will never do," cried Andreas Hofer, in dismay. "How could I be so impudent as to reside in the palace of his majesty the emperor? No, no, that will never do; I cannot consent to it."

"It will do very well, and you must consent to it," said Haspinger, solemnly. "You shall reside in the imperial palace, not to gratify your own vanity, but to reassure the people, and show them that they are not entirely destitute of a ruler and protector. You shall govern the country for God and the emperor until all our enemies are worsted and the war is at an end. The emperor has not time at this juncture to take care of us: he must devote his whole attention to the reorganization of his army and prepare for the resumption of hostilities. The armistice expires at the end of this month, and war will then, of course, break out once more, for the French emperor will not keep quiet and submit before he is worsted and crushed entirely; and we have still a great deal to do, a great deal to fight, and much more blood will have to be shed, before we have delivered the whole Southern Tyrol, Carinthia, and Carniola, from the yoke of the tyrant. In order to do so, Speckbacher, Wallner, and I, will lead the brave Tyrolese against the enemy. Now, if the country is to be governed properly while we are fighting, a man in whom both the people and the authorities have confidence must be at the head of the government. You are this man, Andreas Hofer. The people, the authorities, and the defenders of the country, pray you to consent to it; but God commands you through my mouth to accept the position."

"Well, then," exclaimed Andreas, enthusiastically, lifting his eyes devoutly to heaven, "I will do joyfully what God commands, and what you request me to do. I will take upon myself this arduous duty; I will comply with your wishes. You say it is necessary for the good of the country and the emperor that there should be a lieutenant of the emperor; and if there is no other and better man than I, and if you have confidence in me, I will accept the position. I am nothing but an instrument in the hand of God my Lord, and I do what He wants me to do, even though it should cost my life. My life is in His hand, and what I am, and have, and can be, belongs to my emperor and my country. I will be, then, the emperor's lieutenant in the Tyrol until the emperor issues orders to the contrary, or until peace is restored to the country, and the emperor is able again to take charge of the government. Let us pray God and the Holy Virgin that that day may soon dawn upon us!"

"Long live the emperor's lieutenant!" shouted the whole assembly, joyously.

"Now," exclaimed the mayor, "give me your hand, Andreas Hofer, lieutenant of the emperor, and commander-in-chief of the Tyrol. We will conduct you in solemn procession to the imperial palace, for the lieutenant must take up his residence there."

"Yes, yes, let us accompany Andreas Hofer to the imperial palace," exclaimed all, in joyful excitement.

"Well, if it please God. I will take up my residence in the imperial palace," exclaimed Andreas Hofer, solemnly, giving his hand to the mayor and stepping with him to the door of the ballroom.

He was followed by the Capuchin, Joseph Speckbacher, Anthony Wallner, the other commanders of the Landsturm, and the municipal authorities. On stepping into the street, they were received with thundering cheers by the people who thronged the street and the neighboring place; and amid singing and deafening acclamations, and the ringing of all the church-bells, the emperor's lieutenant and commander-in-chief of the Tyrol, Andreas Hofer, was conducted to the magnificent imperial palace, where the Sandwirth was to take up his residence.



CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE FIFTEENTH OF AUGUST AT COMORN.

While the people of Innspruck set no bounds to their rejoicings on the 15th of August, and accompanied Andreas Hofer, the emperor's lieutenant, amid the most rapturous manifestations of enthusiasm, to the imperial palace; while the Emperor Napoleon was celebrating the 15th of August, his birthday, by a great parade at Schoenbrunn, and the bestowal of orders and rewards on many distinguished persons, the Emperor Francis was at the fortress of Comorn. Only a few of his faithful adherents had followed him thither; only his servants and officers surrounded him at his mournful court there. The Empress Ludovica and the archduchesses had already repaired to Totis, a country-seat of Prince Lichtenstein, in Hungary, whither the emperor intended to follow her in the course of a few days.

"I should set out this very day," he said, pacing his cabinet, to his confidential agent Hudelist, the Aulic councillor, "but I should like to see previously Count Bubna, whom I have sent to Bonaparte."

"I hope, your majesty, that the count will yet return today," replied Hudelist, in his humble bland voice.

"God grant it!" sighed the emperor. "It is very tedious here, and I hope our sojourn at Totis will not be so mournful and wearisome. Prince Lichtenstein told me there were excellent fishing-ponds there, and he added that he had caused to be built a laboratory where I might manufacture sealing-wax. I think, Hudelist, we shall be very industrious there, and manufacture new and beautiful styles."

"I received to-day a new receipt for making carmine sealing-wax, perfumed a la rose," said Hudelist, smiling.

"Ah, that is nice," exclaimed the emperor; "give it to me—let me read it."

The Aulic councillor drew a paper from his bosom and handed it with a low bow to the emperor. Francis took it quickly, and fixed his eyes smilingly on it.

His features, however, suddenly became very gloomy, and he threw the paper indignantly on the table. "What do you give me this for?" he asked, angrily. "In speaking of the receipt, I had forgotten the abominable political situation for a moment, but you must at once remind me of it."

"My God!" faltered out Hudelist, "what did I do, then, to excite your majesty's indignation?"

The emperor took the paper from the table and handed it to him. "See," he said, already half pacified, "is that a receipt for making sealing-wax?"

"Good heavens!" groaned Hudelist, in dismay, "I made a mistake. In place of the receipt, I handed to your majesty the draft of the proclamation to your subjects, which your majesty ordered me to write. Oh, I humbly beg your majesty's pardon for having made so lamentable a blunder; I—"

"Well, never mind," interrupted the emperor; "there is no harm done. You handed me one receipt, in place of another; and it is true, the sealing-wax receipt may remain in your pocket until we arrive at Totis, but the other receipt is needed immediately, for it is destined to reduce the people to submissiveness and tranquillity. Well, read the proclamation you have drawn up."

"Your majesty, I have carried out carefully the orders of your majesty, and the instructions of your minister, Count Metternich, and written only what your majesty had agreed upon with the minister."

"Read it," said the emperor, taking the fly-flap from the table; and, while he was slowly gliding along the walls, and killing now and then a fly, Hudelist read as follows:"

"To my people and my army!—My beloved subjects, and even my enemies know that, in entering upon the present war, I was induced to take up arms neither by thirst for conquest nor by mortified personal feelings."

"Self-preservation and independence, a peace which would be compatible with the honor of my crown, and which would give security and tranquillity to my people, were the lofty and only objects which I strove to attain."

"The fickle fortunes of war have not fulfilled my expectations; the enemy penetrated into the heart of my states, and exposed them to the devastations of a war carried on with the most relentless exasperation and barbarity; but, at the same time, he became acquainted with the patriotic spirit of my people and the bravery of my army."

"This experience, which he purchased after fearful bloodshed, and my unvarying solicitude for the happiness of my subjects, brought about mutual advances for peace negotiations. My plenipotentiaries met with those of the French emperor."

"I am desirous of concluding an honorable peace, the terms of which offer the possibility and prospect of its duration. The bravery of my army, its unwavering courage, its ardent patriotism, its emphatic wish not to lay down its arms prior to the conclusion of an honorable peace, prevent me from submitting to terms which would shake the foundations of the empire, and dishonor us after such great and generous sacrifices and so much bloodshed."

"The noble spirit animating the army is a sufficient guaranty that, if the enemy should after all mistake our intentions and strength, we shall certainly obtain the reward of constancy in the end." [Footnote: See Hormayr's "Andreas Hofer," vol. ii., p. 440.]

"There," cried the emperor at this moment, striking with the fly- flap at the wall, "that will at length put an end to your humming, with which you have dinned my ears for a quarter of an hour. Come here, Hudelist, and look at this bluebottle fly. The whole time while you were reading I was chasing it, and have only just got it. Did you ever see so large a fly?"

"It is a very large fly indeed," said Hudelist, with a grin.

"I do not believe that it is a bluebottle fly," exclaimed the emperor. "It is Bonaparte, who has transformed himself into a bluebottle fly, as Jove once transformed himself into an ox; and he came hither to annoy me and din my ears until I am quite sick. Yes, yes, Hudelist, believe me, Bonaparte is a huge bluebottle fly, which drives all Europe mad. Ah, would I could treat him as I treat this abominable bluebottle fly now, and crush him under my foot!"

And the emperor crushed the writhing insect under his heel.

"Your majesty will surely enjoy one day the pleasure of crushing Bonaparte, the huge bluebottle fly, under your heel," said Hudelist. "Only your majesty must be gracious enough to have patience, and not now try to attain what you will surely accomplish at a later time. At this juncture Bonaparte is strong and superior to us; but let us wait until there is a moment when he is weak; your majesty will profit by this moment, and crush him."

"See, see how kind you are!" exclaimed the emperor, with a sardonic smile; "you are so obliging as to give me advice which I did not ask for. I thank you, Mr. Aulic Councillor, but I believe it will be better for me to follow my own understanding. As God Almighty has placed me at the head of Austria and made me emperor, He must confide in my ability to discharge the duties of my imperial office. Well, you need not look so dismayed; I know that your intentions are good, and I confide in you."

"Your majesty knows that I am ready to die for you, and that I should shed my blood for you unhesitatingly and joyously," exclaimed Hudelist, enthusiastically. "It was, therefore, only my intense love and veneration which made me venture to communicate my views freely and openly to your majesty; but I shall never do so again, for I was unfortunate enough to displease your majesty thereby."

"On the contrary, you shall always do so, you shall always tell me your opinion freely and openly," cried the emperor, vehemently. "You shall tell me all that you believe, all that you know, and all that you hear and learn from others. Your ears, eyes, and tongue, shall belong to me."

"And my heart, above all things, belongs to my adored emperor, your majesty."

"Have you really got a heart?" asked the emperor, smiling. "I do not believe it, Hudelist; you are a clever, sagacious man, but you had better say nothing about your heart, for I think you have used it up in your countless love-affairs. Moreover, I do not care for it. I do not think a great deal of men who have too much heart, and who always allow their rash heart to influence their actions. My distinguished brother, the Archduke John, for instance, has this fault and weakness; his heart frequently runs away with his head, and his legs finally run after it."

"But he is a very brave general," said Hudelist, gently; "a courageous captain, and a most defiant and foolhardy enemy of France. How unwavering were the courage and intrepidity with which he met the Viceroy of Italy everywhere, and attacked him, even though he knew beforehand that he would be unable to worst the superior enemy! How great was the magnanimity with which he risked all, and did not shrink from sacrificing the lives of thousands in attempting to carry out an insignificant coup against the enemy! And how sublime was the heroism with which he has often dared to brave the orders of the commander-in-chief and pursue his own way, on finding that these orders were dangerous and pernicious to his army!"

"Yes," cried the emperor, bursting into scornful laughter, "it was owing to this disobedience and stubbornness that we lost the battle of Wagram. If the Archduke John had been more obedient, and arrived with his troops in time, we should have gained the battle. I should not be in this miserable hole and it would not be necessary for me to sue Bonaparte so humbly and contritely for generous terms of peace. The good heart of my distinguished brother subjected me to this unpleasant necessity, and I shall one day manifest to him my gratitude for it."

"Oh, your majesty," said Hudelist, in his blandest voice, "if the archduke should have unwittingly committed a blunder on this occasion, he has made a thousand amends for it. Your majesty should bear in mind all that the noble Archduke John accomplished in the Tyrol. Your majesty owes it only to the archduke that the Tyrol rose as one man, that it fought, and is fighting still, with the utmost heroism. He arranged it all; he organized a conspiracy in the Tyrol while the country was yet under the Bavarian yoke—a vast, gigantic conspiracy; owing to his secret instigation, the revolution broke out simultaneously in all parts of the Tyrol, and it is the name of the Archduke John which fills this people of heroes with the sublime courage which it displays in the most murderous battles."

"It is bad enough that it is so," exclaimed the emperor, striding uneasily up and down the room. "The Archduke John sowed the seeds of pernicious weeds, and played a very dangerous game."

"It is true, it is dangerous to preach rebellion to a people, and teach it how to rise in insurrection," said Hudelist, thoughtfully. "And it cannot be denied that the insurrection of the Tyrolese sets a deplorable example in some respects. It is true, the archduke organized the conspiracy only for the good of Austria and her emperor; but what the Tyrolese are doing to-day FOR the emperor, they might another time do AGAINST him; and if the archduke were not so exceedingly loyal and entirely above suspicion, one might think he had stirred up the insurrection for his own purposes and benefit. At all events, it only depends on him to have himself proclaimed King of the Tyrol, for his influence is all-powerful in that province."

The emperor uttered a cry of rage. His eyes shot fire, his lips quivered and muttered incoherent threats, his cheeks had turned livid, and be paced his room in indescribable agitation. Then, as if to give vent to the rage filling his breast, he took up the fly-flap and struck violently at the flies seated here and there on the wall.

Hudelist followed his every motion with his cold, stealthy eyes, and an expression of scorn and malicious joy illuminated his sombre face for a moment.

"It was effectual," he murmured to himself; "jealousy and suspicion have struck roots in his heart, and we shall succeed in neutralizing the influence of the archduke, who constantly preaches war, and war at any cost."

Suddenly the emperor cast his fly-flap aside, and turned to Hudelist, whose face had quickly resumed its quiet, humble, and impenetrable expression.

"Hudelist," said the emperor, in a low and mysterious tone, "always tell me all you know about the archduke, and do not conceal any thing from me. I must know all, and count upon your sincerity and talent of observation."

"Your majesty," cried Hudelist, ardently, "I swear that I will faithfully carry out the orders of my emperor. Not a word, not a step, not a manifestation of public opinion shall be concealed from your majesty; for, as your majesty was gracious enough to observe, my ears, eyes, and tongue, belong to your majesty."

At this moment the door of the anteroom opened, and a footman announced Count Bubna.

"Let him come in," said the emperor; and he dismissed, with a quick wave of his hand, Hudelist, who, bowing respectfully, and walking backward, left the emperor's cabinet at the same moment that Count Bubna appeared on the threshold of the opposite door.

The emperor hastened to meet him. "Now speak, count!" he exclaimed, eagerly; "did you see Bonaparte? Did he admit you?"

"Yes, your majesty," said Count Bubna, with gloomy gravity, "the Emperor Napoleon did admit me. I had a long interview with him."

The emperor nodded his head. "Did he offer you terms of peace?"

"He did, but I cannot conceal from your majesty that the Emperor Napoleon will impose very harsh and oppressive conditions. He is exceedingly irritated, and the heroic resistance which our army offered to him, our brilliant victory at Aspern, and the fact that his victory at Wagram was after all little better than a drawn battle, seem to have exasperated him in the extreme. For this reason he is resolved to impose rigorous terms of peace on us, because, if Austria should submit to them, she would thereby admit that the Emperor of the French gained a great victory at Wagram."

"Well, I am glad that he is irritated," said the emperor, shrugging his shoulders; "so am I, and I shall not accept any peace which would impose humiliating terms on Austria. That is what I have promised this very day to my people in the proclamation lying on the table yonder; and I owe it, moreover, to myself. Either an honorable peace, or a decision by the fortune of war. If need be, I will call upon my whole people to take up arms; I will place myself at the head of this grand army, and either defeat Bonaparte, or succumb honorably."

"Ah, if your people could see your majesty in your generous excitement, with how much enthusiasm they would follow their emperor and expel the enemy!" exclaimed Count Bubna. "And yet even the most intense enthusiasm might fail, for circumstances are more powerful than your majesty's heroism. The Emperor Napoleon is determined to follow up his success to its most extreme consequences, and we are at this juncture unable to cope with him in the long run. All the gaps in his army have been filled up, and his soldiers are flushed with victory, and eager to meet our own forces. Our army is greatly weakened, disorganized, and disheartened; and, moreover, it has no commander-in-chief, inasmuch as your majesty has accepted the resignation of the generalissimo. To continue the war would be equivalent to endangering the existence of Austria and the imperial dynasty itself."

"Ah, you mean that Bonaparte would be pleased to say of my dynasty what he said of Naples and Spain: 'The Bourbons have ceased to reign'?"

"Your majesty, although the Emperor Napoleon did not dare to use such unmeasured language, he did not fail to hint at such an event. Having admitted me after repeated refusals and hearing my first words, 'My august master, the Emperor of Austria,' the Emperor Napoleon interrupted me, and cried vehemently, 'There is no longer an Emperor of Austria, but only a Prince of Lorraine!'"

"Ah, indeed, he permits me at least to retain the title of a Prince of Lorraine! And what else did he say? Do not conceal any thing from me, Count Bubna, but bear in mind that I must know all, in order to take my resolutions accordingly."

"Your majesty, if I did not bear this in mind, I should never venture to repeat what the Emperor Napoleon permitted himself to say to me. He seemed to speak quite unreservedly in my presence; lying on the floor by the side of his maps, or sitting on the table and placing his feet on a chair, or standing before me with folded arms, he spoke to me with a frankness which almost frightened me, and which at times seemed to me quite involuntary."

"There you were mistaken, at all events," said Francis, shrugging his shoulders. "Bonaparte never does any thing unintentionally, and not a word escapes him but what he wants to utter. I know him better than you all, though I have seen him only once in my life; and God knows that, after my interview with him subsequent to the battle of Austerlitz, my heart was filled with intense hatred against him. Now, my heart is more constant in hatred than in love; and if it is said that love makes us blind, hatred, on the other hand, renders us keen-sighted, and that is the reason why I am able to see through Bonaparte and know him better than you all. Tell me, therefore, what he said so frankly to you, and I shall know what to think of his statements which seem to you unintentional expressions of his real sentiments. What does he think of the armistice? Is he really intent on drawing the sword once more, or is he inclined to conclude peace?"

"Inclined, your majesty, is not the right word. He intends to GRANT peace to your majesty in return for heavy sacrifices. Your majesty will have to sacrifice much territory, many fortresses, and finally a great deal of money, in order to obtain peace."

"And what if I should not do so?" cried Francis, impetuously. "What if I should prefer to resume hostilities and die honorably on the ruins of my empire rather than purchase a dishonorable peace? What would he say then?"

"Then he would resume hostilities with his strong and enthusiastic army; he would, as he told me more than once in his thundering voice, be inexorable, and no considerations of generosity would prevent him from wreaking vengeance on his personal enemy; for as such he would regard your majesty in that event."

"But the people of Nuremberg do not hang any one before they have got him," said the emperor, calmly. "Bonaparte has not got me yet, and I think he will not catch me soon. Despite all his braggadocio, he will be obliged to allow the continued existence of the Austrian Empire, for all Europe would rise against him; even Russia herself would become his enemy, and draw the sword against him, if he should be daring enough to appropriate the Austrian Empire and swallow it as he swallowed Italy."

"Your majesty, I also do not believe that he would menace Austria in case he should be driven again to hostilities; he threatens only the Emperor of Austria."

"What do you mean, Bubna?" asked the emperor, vehemently.

"Your majesty," said Count Bubna, in a low, timid voice, "the Emperor Napoleon thinks you are his personal and inexorable enemy, and he believes if a monarch more favorable to him were seated on the throne of Austria, he would not only soon conclude peace with Austria, but also have a faithful ally in her hereafter. If hostilities should be resumed, and if the fortune of war should decide in favor of the Emperor Napoleon—"

"Proceed, proceed," cried the emperor, impatiently, when Count Bubna hesitated; "I must know all, and am not so cowardly as to be frightened by mere words."

"But I, your majesty, am afraid of uttering words whose meaning fills me with loathing and horror—words which, thank God, will never become deeds!"

"No preamble, count, but speak out," cried the emperor, impatiently. "What would Bonaparte do in case he should defeat us again?"

"Your majesty, he would place another emperor on the Austrian throne."

"Ah, always the same old strain," exclaimed the emperor, contemptuously. "One of his brothers or brothers-in-law is to become Emperor of Austria, I suppose? 'The Hapsburg dynasty has ceased to reign'—that is it, is it not?"

"No, another prince of the Hapsburg dynasty is to be placed on the throne, one of the brothers of the Emperor Francis."

"Ah, ah! he thinks of my brothers," murmured the emperor, whose cheeks turned very pale. "Well, which of my brothers did he designate as future Emperor of Austria?"

"He thought it would be best for France if the throne were ceded to the Grand-duke of Wurtzburg, the Archduke Ferdinand. He said he had had confidence in the grand-duke ever since he had been in Tuscany, and he believed that the grand-duke was likewise friendly to him. He would make him Emperor of Austria, and add the grand duchy of Wurtzburg to the kingdom of Bavaria."

"And the Tyrol?" asked the Emperor Francis. "Will Bonaparte, in his liberality, give that also to Bavaria, or will he leave it to my brother Ferdinand, the future Emperor of Austria?"

"No, your majesty. The Emperor Napoleon seems to have entirely new and rather singular plans in regard to the Tyrol. According to these plans. Bavaria is not to keep it, for Napoleon said angrily that Bavaria had not at all known how to deal with the simple and honest Tyrolese. He added that profound tranquillity should reign in the mountains; hence, he could not restore the Tyrol to Bavaria, against which the Tyrolese were animated by intense hatred. As the Tyrolese had manifested their attachment and fidelity to Austria in so admirable a manner, it would be best to make the Tyrol an independent principality, and give it also to one of the arch-dukes, the brothers of the emperor." [Footnote: Napoleon's own words.—See "Lebensbilder," vol. v., p. 217.]

"By the Eternal! my brothers seem to be the special favorites of the Emperor Napoleon," exclaimed the emperor. "Which of the archdukes is to receive the new principality of the Tyrol at Bonaparte's hands?"

"Your majesty, he said the Tyrol should be given to that archduke for whom the Tyrolese had always manifested the greatest love and enthusiasm, the Archduke John."

"John!" cried the emperor, giving a start; "John is to become sovereign of the Tyrol? Ah, my sagacious and learned brother has speculated correctly, then! He first stirred up a rebellion in the Tyrol in the shrewdest manner, and he will now quiet the beloved Tyrol, by becoming its sovereign and ruler."

"Your majesty," exclaimed the count, in dismay, "it is not the noble Archduke John who conceived such plans, but the Emperor Napoleon."

"He seems at least to keep up a touching understanding with my brothers. I should like to know whether his generosity will not provide crowns and states for the other arch-dukes too. And then, you have not told me yet what he intends to do with me after hurling me from the throne. Does he want to keep me confined like the King of Spain and Pope Pius, or will he permit me to live as a refugee in foreign lands, like the King of Naples?"

"Your majesty, Napoleon only dreamed of the future, and dreams never are logical and consistent. I myself listened to his dreams in silence, and they amused me as the merry fairy-stories of my childhood did—fairy-stories invented only for the purpose of making us laugh."

"Yes, let us laugh at them," exclaimed the emperor, bursting into loud laughter, which, however, sounded so unnatural that Count Bubna did not join in it. "And now," said the emperor, whose face suddenly became very gloomy, "having spoken enough about Bonaparte's funny dreams, let us turn to more serious matters. What are the terms on which the Emperor of the French would make peace with me? What does he demand?"

"Your majesty, his demands are so exorbitant that I scarcely dare to repeat them."

"Never mind," said the emperor, dryly. "If I could listen quietly to the plan regarding my brothers, I believe I shall be able to bear the rest. Speak, therefore. What are the terms on which Napoleon would conclude peace?"

"He demands the cession of all the provinces actually occupied by the French armies; the surrender of the fortresses still occupied by our troops in these provinces, with their magazines, arsenals, stores, and supplies; the surrender of the fortresses of Gratz and Brunn; and large contributions in kind, to be collected by M. Daru, the French intendant-general."

"He intends to spoliate Austria as mercilessly as he formerly plundered Hamburg and the whole of Northern Germany," said the emperor, shrugging his shoulders. "And does not Bonaparte demand any money this time? Will he content himself with provinces, fortresses, and contributions in kind? Will he extort no money from us?"

"Your majesty, he demands an enormous sum. He demands the immediate payment of two hundred and thirty-seven millions of francs." [Footnote: See Schlosser's "History of the Nineteenth Century," vol. viii., p. 115.]

"Well, well, he will take less than that," exclaimed the emperor.

"Then your majesty will graciously negotiate with him on his terms of peace?" asked Count Bubna, joyously. "Bearing in mind only the welfare of your monarchy, you will not reject his rigorous demands entirely, and not allow the armistice to lead to a resumption of hostilities, which, under the present circumstances, could not but involve Austria in utter ruin?"

"I shall think of it," said the emperor; "at all events, I have already shown my desire for peace by sending my ministers, Counts Stadion and Metternich, to Altenburg, to negotiate there with Bonaparte's minister Champagny. I shall not recall them, but allow them to continue the negotiations. They are skilled diplomatists, and men of great sagacity. The labors of diplomatists generally make slow headway; hence, it will be good for us to lend them a little secret assistance. While the plenipotentiaries are negotiating publicly at Altenburg in Hungary, I will secretly begin to negotiate with the emperor himself; and you, Count Bubna, shall be my agent for this purpose."

"Your majesty," exclaimed Count Bubna, in a tone of surprise rather than joy, "your majesty reposes in me so much confidence—"

"Which, I hope, you will appreciate, and strive to render yourself worthy of," interrupted the emperor. "I count on your skill, your zeal, and, above all, your discretion. You will take new proposals of peace to-morrow, on my part, to the headquarters of the Emperor Napoleon, at Schoenbrunn. But no one must learn of your mission, and, least of all, my two ministers who are negotiating at Altenburg."

"Sire, I shall keep as silent as the grave."

"A bad comparison, Bubna, for new life is to blossom for Austria from your secret negotiations. Well, go now and repose; we will afterward confer again in regard to this matter, and I will explain my views to you. But say, Bubna, do you really think that Bonaparte was in earnest about his dreams, and that, in case he should defeat us again, he would seriously think of carrying into effect his plans regarding the Archdukes Ferdinand and John?"

"I am afraid, your majesty, he was in earnest."

"The Emperor Napoleon, then, hates me intensely?"

"He believes that your majesty hates him intensely. He told me once frankly that only your majesty's personal hatred had brought about this war, and that he was afraid this hatred would frustrate all peace negotiations. I ventured to contradict him, but be shook his head vehemently and exclaimed, 'The Emperor Francis hates me so intensely, that I believe he would lose his crown and empire sooner than ally himself with me in a cordial manner, even though he should derive the greatest advantages therefrom. Do you think, for instance, that the Emperor Francis, if I wished to become his son- in-law, would give me the hand of his daughter, even though I should relinquish half the war contribution, and restore to him all the provinces occupied by my armies?'"

"What? Did Napoleon really say that?" asked the emperor, with unusual, almost joyful vivacity. "But," he added, gloomily, "this is nothing but one of Napoleon's dreams. He has a wife, and the Empress Josephine is so young and gay yet that she does not think of dying."

"But the Emperor Napoleon, I have been told, thinks a great deal of getting a divorce from her."

"The pope, whom he keeps imprisoned, will never grant it to him," exclaimed the emperor.

"I think he will not even apply to him for it, your majesty. The Emperor Napoleon never had his union with the Empress Josephine consecrated by the Church, and the dissolution of a civil marriage does not require the pope's consent. The emperor can dissolve it by virtue of his own authority."

"That is a very convenient arrangement for M. Bonaparte," said Francis, smiling. "Well, go now, count, and repose. I am very content with your services, and I think I shall be so hereafter also. Adieu. I shall send for you again."

He nodded kindly to the count, and stood still smilingly at his writing-table in the middle of the cabinet, until the door of the anteroom closed behind Count Bubna. But thereupon his face assumed a gloomy, bitter expression, and he lifted up his clinched fist with a menacing gesture.

"My brothers!" he cried, in an angry voice; "always my brothers! They are always eager to push me aside. I am always to be kept in the shade, that their light may shine more brightly. Ah, we shall see who is Emperor of Austria, and to whom the Tyrol belongs; we shall see who is the master, and who has to obey. As yet I am emperor, as yet I have to decide on war and peace. And I will decide. I will humiliate them and compel them to be obedient, these boastful archdukes, who always preach war and are worsted in every battle! Oh, they are stirring up rebellion, and stretching out their hands for my property! But one stroke of my pen will shatter their crowns, stifle their rebellion, and reduce them to submissiveness. I will make peace with Napoleon, and the seditious Tyrol shall be quieted without being bestowed upon the Archduke John. I would rather have it restored to Bavaria than that it should be conferred on my brother. That would be a just retribution for the seditious peasants; they have set a bad example, and should be punished for it. I do not want any conspirators among my subjects. Let Bavaria see how she will get along with the rebellious Tyrolese! I shall withdraw my hand from them. I want peace. I will remain Emperor of Austria despite all my brothers!"



CHAPTER XXXV.

A DAY OF THE EMPEROR'S LIEUTENANT.

The imperial palace at Innspruck was still the residence of Sandwirth Andreas Hofer, commander-in-chief of the Tyrol, and lieutenant of the Emperor Francis. He had lived there since the 15th of August; but as simply, quietly, and modestly as he had lived when he was a horse-dealer and innkeeper, so he lived now when he was ruler of the Tyrol, and the emperor's lieutenant. Instead of occupying the large state apartments of the imperial palace, as his friends had often asked him to do, Andreas had selected the plainest and humblest rooms for his quarters, and his style of living was as simple and modest as his dwelling-place. Vainly his suite tried to persuade him to hold levees and receive guests at his festive table. Andreas rejected all such suggestions with proud and withal humble indignation.

"Do you think I took this arduous task upon myself to play the aristocratic gentleman, and revel in luxury?" he replied to those who asked him to adopt such a course. "I did not become the emperor's lieutenant to display vain and empty splendor, but to serve my dear Tyrol and preserve it to the emperor. I am only a simple peasant, and do not want to live like a prince. I am accustomed to have bread, butter, and cheese for breakfast, and I do not know why I should change this now, merely because I am no longer at home with my dear wife, but here at Innspruck at the emperor's palace. I am also accustomed to dine very plainly, and am therefore opposed to any expensive repasts being got up for me here. I do not like the meats prepared by the cooks of the aristocracy; and while I do not want anything but bread, butter, cheese, and wine, I shall send to Niederkircher's tavern for my dinner. But it must never cost more than half a florin. I will invite guests, for I like to have merry people about me; but the guests must not come for the sake of the repast, but for that of our pleasant conversation. I shall send to Niederkircher for the dinner of all my guests, and he must send enough, lest any of them should remain hungry. But there must never be more than six guests, for it would be too bad if I, who intend to preserve the Tyrol to the emperor, were to cost him a great deal of money here. In order to prevent mistake, Niederkircher must send in his bill every morning for me to examine; the financial secretary shall pay it every week, and send me the receipt." [Footnote: The expenses of Hofer and his whole suite, during their six weeks' sojourn in the city of Innspruck, cost the public exchequer only five hundred florins.]

Andreas Hofer remained in these days of his splendor as active, industrious, and simple as he always had been. The welfare of his beloved country engrossed all his thoughts, and he was desirous of devoting his whole strength to it. He issued a number of useful and liberal decrees, which, it is true, Ennemoser, Doeninger, Kolb, or other friends of his had drawn up, but which he had approved and signed.

Andreas Hofer gave public audiences every morning like a real prince, and the sentinels placed in front of the imperial palace and at the door of the commander-in-chief had received stringent orders not to refuse admittance to the audience-room to any one, but allow all to come in, how poorly soever they might be dressed. Andreas listened to every one with kind patience and cordial sympathy, and always took care to help console the distressed, make peace, and conciliate; and every one who needed comfort and assistance hastened to apply to the always helpful commander-in-chief.

To-day again many persons were in the audience-room, waiting impatiently for the moment when the door should open, and when Andreas Hofer should make his appearance on the threshold, greet all with a pleasant nod of his head, and then beckon to him who was nearest to the door to enter his cabinet.

But the hour fixed for the audience had struck long ago, and the commander-in-chief, who was usually so punctual and conscientious, had not yet opened the door of his audience-room. He had already been half an hour in his cabinet, and Doeninger sat at the desk, ready to write down the names of all applicants for audience, and add a brief statement of their wishes and petitions. But Andreas was still pacing the room, his hands behind his back; and although he had already laid his hand twice on the door-knob, he had stepped back as if in terror, and continued striding up and down.

"Commander-in-chief," said Doeninger, after a long pause, during which he had watched Hofer's irresolute bearing smilingly, "there is something that disquiets you, is there not?"

"Yes, Cajetan," sighed Andreas. "As you have found it out, I will no longer deny that there is something that disquiets me."

"And what is it, commander-in-chief? Will you not communicate it to your faithful and discreet Cajetan?"

"Yes, I will, my dear Cajetan," said Hofer. "I am afraid I did something very stupid yesterday, and I am ashamed of it."

"Ah, you allude to the lawsuit which you decided yesterday," exclaimed Doeninger.

"You see, no sooner did I say that I did something very stupid, than you at once knew what I meant; what I did must, therefore, have been very stupid indeed. Yes, I alluded to the lawsuit, Cajetan, for I am afraid I did not decide it, but made it only more complicated."

"On the whole, there was nothing to be decided," said Doeninger, dryly. "The lawsuit was already decided; the supreme court had given judgment in favor of the plaintiff and awarded to him the sum of one thousand florins, which was at issue, and sentenced the defendant to pay that sum and the costs. But the defendant—"

"It was no man, Cajetan," interrupted Andreas; "it was a woman, and that was the worst of it. I cannot bear to see women weep. They know so well how to touch my heart by their tears and lamentations, that I long to help them. Lord Jesus, how that woman, the defendant in the lawsuit, wept! And was it the poor woman's fault, Cajetan, that her deceased husband was head over ears in debt, that he borrowed one thousand florins from a friend, and meanly affixed his wife's name without her knowledge to the note which he gave for it?"

"But that is just the trouble, commander-in-chief; not only did she know it, but she herself put her name under the note. I myself asked the judges about it yesterday. They say that the woman is known to be avaricious, greedy, and mean, and they would not have given judgment against her if there had not been sworn evidence to the effect that she herself signed the note. They add that she is rich enough to pay back the thousand florins which her husband certainly borrowed from his friend."

"I cannot believe it," exclaimed Andreas. "She wept and lamented so very unaffectedly; during my whole wedded life I have not seen my wife weep so much as the woman wept during that quarter of an hour yesterday; and I think one that can weep so much must be innocent. Hence, I did what I had a perfect right to do; I wrote to the judges and reversed their decision."

"Well, commander-in-chief, if you think you were justified in what you did, why does it disquiet you?"

"It does," said Andreas Hofer, "because I think now that the plaintiff, who lost his suit, may feel very sore over it, and blame me for depriving him of what he thought was due to him; and I shudder to think he maybe in the other room, and intend to reproach me with ruining him and taking from him what the judges had already awarded to him."

"And, Andy, because you would not like to see one man, you keep the others waiting outside."

"You are right, Cajetan. I ought not to do that; I am a selfish, cowardly fellow," cried Andreas, contritely. "I will no longer keep them waiting, but admit them at once."

And he went with a hasty step to the door of the audience-room, threw it open, and stepped upon the threshold. The large room was crowded with persons of every age and rank; all thronged toward the door, and every one was desirous of being the first to greet the commander-in-chief, and to be invited by him into his cabinet.