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Cajetan Doeninger stood at his bedside and informed him that the intendant of the Puster valley, Baron von Worndle, had arrived with an envoy of the Emperor Francis, Baron von Lichtenthurn, and both wished urgently to see the commander-in-chief. "I will admit them," said Hofer, rising hastily; "God grant that they are the bearers of good news!"
"The emperor, it seems, was unable to do any thing for the Tyrol," said Worndle in a low voice. "He had to consent that the Tyrol should be restored to the French and Bavarians." "But that is impossible!" cried Andreas, despairingly. "He pledged us his word, his sacred word, that he would never consent to a peace that would detach the Tyrol from Austria.
He dressed himself quickly and followed Doeninger into the room, where he found the two envoys and several members of his suite. "Now tell me, gentlemen, what news do you bring to us?" asked Hofer, shaking hands with the two envoys. "No good news, commander-in-chief," sighed Baron von Worndle, "but there is no use in complaining; we must submit patiently to what cannot be helped.
He did not do it." "Yes, Andreas, he did," said Worndle, gravely; "he was obliged to submit, as we all shall have to do. The Archduke John was obliged to yield to the will of his emperor as we shall have to do. The treaty of peace has been concluded. There is no doubt of it." "Lord God! the treaty of peace has been concluded, and the emperor abandons us?" cried Andreas.
Baron von Worndle had long since ceased to read, and still Andreas Hofer stood motionless, his hands folded on his breast, his head thrown back, and his eyes turned toward heaven. All gazed in respectful silence upon that tall, imposing form which seemed frozen by grief, and at that pale, mournful face, and those pious eyes, which seemed to implore consolation and salvation from heaven.
"Read it," exclaimed Andreas, mournfully; "I cannot, my eyes are filled with tears. Read it to me, sir." Worndle read as follows: "To the people of the Tyrol: His majesty the Emperor of the French, King of Italy, Protector of the Confederation of the Rhine, my august father and sovereign, and his majesty, the Emperor of Austria, have made peace. Peace, therefore, reigns everywhere around you.
He laid his heavy hand upon the shoulder of the baron, who sank to the floor, uttering a loud cry of distress, and fell into fearful convulsions. "See!" cried Andreas, "that is the punishment of Heaven! The hand of God has struck him. He is a traitor, who intended to sell us to the French." "No, he is an honorable man, and has told you the truth," said Baron von Worndle, gravely.
Lord God," he exclaimed all at once, "can I not do any thing, then, for my dear country? Tell me, my friends, can I not do any thing to avert this great calamity and save the lives of my dear countrymen?" "Yes, Andreas," said Baron von Worndle, "you can do a great deal for the Tyrol and your countrymen.
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