Louisa of Prussia and Her Times Part 89

They shook hands once more, and gazed at each other with a smile which lighted up their faces like the last beam of the setting sun.

Then Anna, walking backward in order to see him still, and to engrave his image deeply on her heart, crossed the threshold as the jailer hastily closed the door behind her.

Palm heard a heart-rending cry outside; then every thing was silent.

A few minutes later the door opened again, and a Catholic priest entered.

"My wife has fainted, I suppose?" asked Palm.

"No, a sudden vertigo seemed to seize her when the door closed, but she overcame her weakness and hurried away. May the Lord G.o.d have mercy on her!"

"He will," said Palm, confidently.

"May He have mercy on you, too, my son," said the priest. "Let us pray; open to me your soul and your heart."

"My soul and my heart lie open before G.o.d; He will see and judge them," said Palm. "I do not belong to your church, my father; I am a Protestant. But if you will pray with me, do so; if you will give me your blessing, I shall thankfully accept it, for a dying man always likes to feel a blessing-hand on his forehead."

The clock struck two, and now the drums commenced rolling, and the death-knell resounded from the church-steeple. An awful silence reigned in the whole city of Braunau. All the houses were closed; all the windows were covered.

n.o.body wanted to witness the dreadful spectacle which the despotism of the foreign tyrant was preparing for the citizens of Braunau. The women and children had returned to their houses, and were kneeling and praying in their darkened rooms. The men concealed themselves in order not to show their shame and rage.

n.o.body was, therefore, on the street when the terrible procession approached. A miserable cart rumbled along in the midst of soldiers and gens-d'armes, Palm was seated in this cart, backward, and his hands tied on his back; opposite him sat the priest, holding the crucifix in his hand and muttering prayers.

The German inhabitants of Braunau had done well to close their doors and cover their windows, for the disgrace and humiliation of Germany were at this hour rumbling through their streets.

But not all of them had been so happy as to be permitted to stay at home. The will of the foreign despot had forbidden it, and the members of the munic.i.p.ality and other authorities, in their full official robes, had repaired to the place of execution.

There they stood, dumb with shame, astonishment, and horror, with downcast eyes, like slaves pa.s.sing under the yoke.

About a hundred spectators stood behind them, but not persons to whom executions are merely a piquant spectacle, a rare amus.e.m.e.nt, but men with sombre, angry eyes--men who had come to swear secretly in their hearts, on this spot where the last remnant of German honor was to bleed to death, a terrible oath of vengeance to the foreign despot. The blood of the martyr was to stir up their enthusiasm for the long-deferred, sacred deed of atonement.

Palm had alighted from the cart, and walked with rapid, resolute steps to the spot which was indicated to him, and behind which an open grave was yawning.

Refusing the a.s.sistance of the provost, he himself took off his coat and threw it into the open grave. He then turned his eyes to the side where the authorities of Braunau and his German brethren were standing.

"Friends," he said, aloud, "may my death be a blessing to you; may my blood not be shed in vain, but make you--"

A loud roll of the drum drowned his words.

The general waved his hand; six guns were discharged.

Palm sank to the ground, but he rose again. Only one bullet had struck him; the blood was gushing from his heart, but he still lived.

Another file of soldiers stepped forward, and once more six guns were discharged at him.

But the soldiers, who were accustomed to aim steadily in battle, had here, where they were to be executioners, averted their eyes, and their hands, which never had trembled in battle, were trembling now.

Palm rose again from the ground, a panting, bleeding victim, and seemed, with his uplifted and blood-stained hands, to implore Heaven to avenge him on his murderers.

A third volley resounded.

This time Palm did not rise again. He was dead! G.o.d had received his soul. His bleeding remains lay on the German soil, as if to fertilize it for the day of retribution.

CHAPTER LX.

PRUSSIA'S DECLARATION OF WAR.

King Frederick William III. had not yet left his cabinet to-day. He had retired thither early in the morning in order to work. Maps, plans of battles, and open books lay on the tables, and the king sat in their midst with a musing, careworn air.

A gentle rap at the door aroused him from his meditations. The king raised his head and listened. The rap was repeated.

"It is Louisa," he said to himself, and a smile overspread his features as he hastened to the door and opened it.

He had not been mistaken. It was the queen who stood before the door.

Smiling, graceful, and merry as ever, she entered the cabinet and gave her hand to her husband.

"Are you angry with me, my dear friend, because I have disturbed you?"

she asked, tenderly. "But, it seemed to me, you had worked enough for the state to-day and might devote a quarter of an hour to your Louisa.

You know whenever I do not see you in the morning, my day lacks its genuine sunshine, and is gray and gloomy. For this reason, as you have not yet come to me to-day, I come to you. Good-morning, my king and husband!"

"Good-morning, my queen!" said the king, imprinting a kiss on the white, transparent forehead of the queen. "Add to it, good-day, my dear Louisa, for a wish from so beautiful and n.o.ble lips I hope will exorcise all evil spirits, and cause this day to become a really good one. I hope much from it."

The king's forehead, which the queen's appearance had smoothed a little, became clouded again, and he a.s.sumed a grave and sombre air.

The queen saw it, and gently placed her hand on his shoulder.

"You are downcast, my friend," she said, affectionately. "Will you not let me have my share of your grief? Is not your wife ent.i.tled to it?

Or will you cruelly deprive me of what is my right? Speak to me, my husband. Let me share your grief. Confide to me what is the meaning of those clouds on your n.o.ble brow, and what absorbs your soul to such an extent that you even forgot me and your children, and deprived us of your kind morning greeting."

But even these tender words of the queen were unable to light up the king's forehead; he avoided meeting her beautiful, l.u.s.trous eyes, which were fixed on him inquiringly, and averted his head.

"Government affairs," he said, gravely. "Nothing interesting and worthy of being communicated to my queen. Let us not embitter thereby the happy minutes of your presence. Let us sit down."

The queen knew her husband's peculiarities to perfection. She knew that no one was allowed to contradict him whenever he a.s.sumed this forbidding tone, and that it was best then not to take any notice of his moroseness, or, if possible, to dispel it.

She, therefore, followed him silently to the sofa and sat down, inviting him, with a charming smile, to take a seat by her side.

The king did so, and Louisa leaned her head tenderly against his shoulder. "How sweet it is to lean one's weak head against the breast of a strong man!" she said. "It seems to me, as long as I am near you, no misfortune can befall me, and I cling to you trustingly and happily, like the ivy covering the strong oak."

"The comparison is not correct," said the king. "Ivy does not bloom, nor is it fragrant. But you are a peerless rose, the queen of flowers!"

"What! my king condescends to flatter me?" said the queen, laughing merrily, while she raised her head from the king's shoulder and looked archly at him. "But, my king, your comparison is not correct either.

Roses have thorns, and wound whosoever touches them. But I would not pain and wound you for all the riches of the world! Were I a rose, I should shake off all my fragrant leaves to make of them a pillow on which your n.o.ble head should repose from the toils and vexations of the day, and on which you should find dreams of a happy future."

"Only DREAMS of a happy future," said Frederick William, musingly. "You may be right; our hopes for a happy future may be but a dream."