The burgomaster stared at the general with glazed eyes, broke out into a loud laugh, and staggered back on the wall of the gate-warder’s house.

“I implore you, collect yourself,” whispered the second burgomaster, as he endeavored to support the reeling, staggering chief.  “Remember our weal or woe depends upon you!”

Von Kircheisen grinned an idiotic laugh.  “Four millions of dollars!” screamed he aloud.  “Four millions of dollars!  Hurrah! hurrah for the Russians!”

The countenance of the general became still more threatening, and an angry light flashed from his eye.  “Do you dare to mock me?” asked he, in a harsh tone.  “Beware, sir; and remember that you are the conquered, and in our power.  I demand from you a decided answer.  You understand my demand, do you not?”

But still he answered not.  He stared at General Bachmann with a vacant smile, and his head wagged from side to side like the pendulum of a clock.

“This is disgraceful conduct,” cried the general, “conduct which does little honor to the chief magistrate of Berlin.  But I warn you, sir, to beware!  I have promised the poor and suffering my protection, but I well know how to punish those who abuse our magnanimity.  If you do not answer me this time, sir, by Heaven I will have you carried off under arrest and let a court-martial pronounce judgment on you!”

The chief magistrate continued dumb.  The pale and terror-stricken countenances of those present were turned toward him.  The members of the Council implored and besought him to put aside this unnatural stubbornness.

Von Kircheisen answered their pleadings with a loud-sounding laugh.  He then stared at the general, his features worked and struggled, writhed, and finally he opened his mouth.

“Ah!  God be praised, he is going to speak,” cried the second burgomaster.

But no, he did not speak; he only distorted his face.  A cry of dismay sounded from the lips of the deputation, a cry of anger from the Russian general, who, turning to his adjutant, ordered him immediately to arrest the burgomaster and carry him off.  And now there arose an indescribable scene of confusion and terror.  Pale with fright, the Council and deputation of merchants had flocked around Von Kircheisen to protect him from the advancing soldiers who sought to arrest him, while he, in the midst of all the horror and tumult, continued to giggle and make grimaces.  The enraged soldiery had already commenced to push aside Kircheisen’s defenders with blows from the butts of their muskets, when a man made his way through the crowd.  It was Gotzkowsky, who, with a loud and full voice, demanded the cause of this singular uproar.  A hundred voices were ready to answer him, and explain the scene in confused, unintelligible jargon.

But General Bachmann beckoned him to his side.  “Tell me, sir, is this chief burgomaster a fool or a drunkard, or is he, indeed, so demented as to intend to mock us?”