"Do you forget, then, that you are in Germany, and that
you have shed your blood for your country? Your German brethren will not
deride you; they will not rejoice at your sufferings; they will hope
with you for a better and more fortunate day when you will get even with
that insolent and hateful enemy, for the battles of Jena and Auerstadt."
"Pray to God, my young friend, that that day may speedily dawn!" said
Count Pueckler, heaving a sigh.
"Pray!" ejaculated the young man, impetuously. "In times like ours it is
not sufficient to pray and to hope for divine assistance; we ought
rather to act and toil, and, instead of folding our hands, arm them
either with the sword or with the dagger."
"With the dagger?" asked Schill. "The dagger is the weapon of
assassins."
"Was Moeros an assassin because he wanted to stab Dionysius the tyrant?"
asked the youth. "Was he not rather a generous and high-minded man, whom
our great Schiller deemed worthy of becoming the hero of one of his
finest poems? When the fatherland is in danger, every weapon is sacred,
and every way lawful which a bold heart desires to pursue, to deliver
the country."
"Well, I see already that your heart will choose the right, and not
shrink back from dangers," said Pueckler, kindly. "But, in the first
place, tell us which way you are now going to take, that we may know
whether we shall be allowed to accompany you or not.
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