which to Lottchen appeared madness, and to Louisa
herself the act of a sibyl instinct with blind inspiration.
“Here,” said she, “is our dancing
room. When shall we all meet and dance again
together?” Saying which, she commenced a wild
dance, whirling her candle round her head until the
motion extinguished it; then, eddying round her sister
in narrowing circles, she seized Lottchen’s
candle also, blew it out, and then interrupted her
own singing to attempt a laugh. But the laugh
was hysterical. The darkness, however, favored
her; and, seizing her sister’s arm, she forced
her along, whispering, “Come, come, come!”
Lottchen could not be so dull as entirely to misunderstand
her. She suffered herself to be led up the first
flight of stairs, at the head of which was a room looking
into the street. In this they would have gained
an asylum, for the door had a strong bolt. But,
as they were on the last steps of the landing, they
could hear the hard breathing and long strides of the
murderer ascending behind them. He had watched
them through a crevice, and had been satisfied by
the hysterical laugh of Louisa that she had seen him.
In the darkness he could not follow fast, from ignorance
of the localities, until he found himself upon the
stairs. Louisa, dragging her sister along, felt
strong as with the strength of lunacy, but Lottchen
hung like a weight of lead upon her. She rushed
into the room, but at the very entrance Lottchen fell.
At that moment the assassin exchanged his stealthy
pace for a loud clattering ascent. Already he
was on the topmost stair; already he was throwing
himself at a bound against the door, when Louisa,
having dragged her sister into the room, closed the
door and sent the bolt home in the very instant that
the murderer’s hand came into contact with the
handle. Then, from the violence of her emotions,
she fell down in a fit, with her arm around the sister
whom she had saved.
How long they lay in this state neither ever knew.
The two old ladies had rushed upstairs on hearing
the tumult. Other persons had been concealed
in other parts of the house. The servants found
themselves suddenly locked in, and were not sorry to
be saved from a collision which involved so awful
a danger. The old ladies had rushed, side by
side, into the very center of those who were seeking
them. Retreat was impossible; two persons at
least were heard following them upstairs. Something
like a shrieking expostulation and counter-expostulation
went on between the ladies and the murderers; then
came louder voices—then one heart-piercing
shriek, and then another—and then a slow
moaning and a dead silence. Shortly afterwards
was heard the first crashing of the door inward by
the mob; but the murderers had fled upon the first
alarm, and, to the astonishment of the servants, had
fled upward. Examination, however, explained
this: from a window in the roof they had passed
to an adjoining house recently left empty; and here,
as in other cases, we had proof how apt people are,
in the midst of elaborate provisions against remote
dangers, to neglect those which are obvious.