"Woe to him if it be
true that we have lost a battle! Woe to him if--"
"Silence! silence!" suddenly thundered a loud, imperious voice. "See,
there is a courier!"
"A courier! A courier!" and all rushed back from the house into the
street; every eye turned toward the horseman, who approached at full
gallop.
As if obeying a military command, the multitude made way for him, but at
every step they closed behind him, and, pressing him on all sides, his
progress was exceedingly slow.
But the courier, with his gloomy mien and pale cheeks, looked like a
bearer of bad news, and when the people had scanned his features, they
murmured, "He brings bad news! A disaster is written on his forehead!"
"Let me pass," he said in an imploring voice; "in the name of the king,
let me pass!" And as he spurred his horse, the bystanders fell back in
alarm.
"'In the name of the king!' the king, then, is still alive?"
"Yes, the king is alive!" replied the courier, sadly. "I have dispatches
from him for the Governor of Berlin and Cabinet Counsellor Lombard."
"And what do these dispatches contain?" asked a thousand voices.
"I do not know, and even though I did, I am not at liberty to tell you.
The governor will communicate the news to the inhabitants of Berlin."
"Tell us the news!" demanded the people.
"I cannot do so; and, moreover, I do not know any thing about it,"
replied the courier, who had now reached Lombard's house, and whose
horse was again so closely surrounded that it was scarcely able to move
its feet.
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