These last words he accompanied with a sobbing and plaintive howl, in which his trembling hearers joined.  They assured each other in uncomfortable whispers that Pfannenstiel’s prophecies usually came true, and that, even before the war, he had predicted the coming of this day of terror.

But soon Pfannenstiel raised his voice, and its hoarse croaking sounded above the loud conversation and anxious cries of the multitude.  “Woe unto Berlin!” cried he, with shrieking pathos.  “Blood will flow within her walls!  The voice said unto me, ’I will look upon red, but it will not be a scarlet cloak, and when the red banner waves thrones will tremble, and there will be no end to the lamentation.  And the cock will crow, and the heavens will shine blood-red, and everywhere and in all places men will cry, “Blood! blood is the drink of new life; blood makes young what is old; blood wipes out sworn debts; blood makes the proud humble.  Let us drink blood!"’”

Here the prophet was interrupted by the loud cries and wailing of the multitude.  The women broke out in tears, sank on their knees and prayed, or clung trembling and weeping to their moody-looking husbands.

Pfannenstiel looked with an air of proud triumph on this evident effect of his speech, and then continued in a more subdued tone:  “But the voice said to me, ’Hope, and every thing will turn out well, and the blood which flows will transform itself into a purple robe, and men will call it freedom.  Out of death will arise life.’  Therefore fall down on your knees, for the hour of judgment has come, and prayer alone, but not the sword, can save you.”

The multitude, carried away by the deception, were in the act of obeying this order, when Gotzkowsky, who could no longer restrain himself, stepped rapidly forward, his countenance radiant, and his eyes sparkling with anger.

“Listen not to this hypocritical set, this lying prophet, my people!” cried he, with a voice of thunder.  “He will make cowards of you all, cowards who will submit to the yoke, howling and whining.  You would not have this ignominy put upon you.  You will be men, who will defend their liberty with noble courage to the last drop of their blood, against the invading hordes of barbarians.  For the barbarians are coming, and their fierce wrath threatens your wives and children.  Will you submit to the Russians with a humble whine?”

“No, no!” cried the men, and many a clinched fist was raised, and many a wild but muttered oath was heard.

At this moment there arose in the street a confused sound of screams and yells, then the hollow roll of the drum, and the deep clang of the alarm-bell, which summoned the citizens to the town-hall.

The garden gates were now violently thrown open, and a band of stout workmen was seen hastening in wild disorder toward Gotzkowsky.

These were the workmen from Gotzkowsky’s factories, industrious men, who had preferred working in the factory, and not losing their time, to the enjoyment of the day’s festival, and to whom Gotzkowsky had ordered double wages to be paid, that they might not lose their share in the celebration of his daughter’s birthday.