“Are you a friend of the noble Sievers?” cried Gotzkowsky, his countenance beaming with pleasure.  “Oh, then, I need fear nothing for this unfortunate town, for only a noble, high-minded man can be a friend of Sievers.  You will have pity on our distress!”

“Tell me wherein I can serve you, and how I can oblige you; my word has much influence on our general-in-chief, Count Tottleben.”

Gotzkowsky was silent.

“Beg him to make the contribution as small as possible,” whispered Kircheisen in Gotzkowsky’s ear.

But Gotzkowsky took no notice of him.  He fixed his dark eyes on the general, as if he wished to read his soul.

“Speak out,” said the general.  “If it is possible, your wish shall be granted.”

“Well then, general,” cried Gotzkowsky, “this is my request:  Spare the poor and needy of this town.  Order your soldiers to be humane, and do not forget mercy.  Let your warriors neither murder nor plunder; let them not deride the defenceless and conquered.  Give to the world the example of a generous and noble conqueror.”

The general looked into Gotzkowsky’s noble countenance with increasing astonishment, and his features assumed a more benevolent expression.  “I give you my word that your petition shall be granted,” said he; “I will give my soldiers strict orders, and woe be to him who does not obey them!  But you have spoken for others, and I would like to oblige you personally.  Have you no request to make for yourself?”

“Oh, yes, indeed!” cried Gotzkowsky, “I beg you to allow me to hasten to the Council-hall to report to the elders of the citizens your kind promise.”

General Bachmann nodded affably to him.  “Hasten then, and return soon.”

But as Gotzkowsky turned to hasten away, Herr von Kircheisen seized him with a convulsive grasp and drew him back.  “My God! you are not going to leave me?” he whined out.  “Only think—­”

“That the brave and noble citizens may lay the general’s words as a balm to their wounds—­that is what I am thinking of,” cried Gotzkowsky, tearing himself loose and hurrying away with rapid strides.

“And now for you, most worthy burgomaster,” said General Bachmann, sternly, “your name, if you please?”

Von Kircheisen looked at him gloomily, but made no answer.

The general repeated his question in a louder and sterner voice, but the burgomaster still maintained the same obstinate silence.

“Have you, by some unlucky chance, forgotten your name, sir?” asked the general with a lowering brow.

The angry, piercing look he fastened on him, seemed to awaken the burgomaster from his lethargy.

“My name is Kircheisen, Von Kircheisen,” stammered he, with a heavy tongue.

“We came as conquerors, sir,” said General Bachmann; “and it is usual for conquerors to dictate their terms before they enter a captured city.  In the name of our general, Count Tottleben, I have to communicate to you what sum we demand from you as a war contribution.  This demand amounts to four millions of dollars in good money.”