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"I cannot be such a barbarian. Fermore may command me to do barbarous actions, but I will not accept such commands! I will not obey! No one but myself knows of this order. I will ignore it. The Empress Elizabeth has always been very gracious toward me, and will forgive me for not executing an order which certainly never proceeded from her own kind heart."
For her great men she has but the cradle and the grave. But show your unfeeling mother that you are better than she is; prove to her how unjust she has been. Be magnanimous, and leave us our weapons!" "I cannot, by Heaven! I cannot do it," said Tottleben, sadly, in a low tone. "I must obey the higher authorities above me the empress and the commander-in-chief, General Fermore.
Petersburg to see the empress; twice did you go to Warsaw to see General Fermore, and twice to Saxony to visit the king. You see the Council knows how much it is indebted to you." "And we are cheerfully willing to be grateful to you," interrupted the burgomaster, "and to serve you when and in what manner we can, but these debts we cannot acknowledge."
I may enumerate among them the diamond-set staff for General von Fermore, and the snuff-box, with the portrait of the empress, surrounded by brilliants, which I delivered to the General Field-Marshal Count Butterlin, in the name of the magistracy and town of Berlin. But, gentlemen, you will find the accounts of all these things here."
General Fermore is my friend, and often consults me about the meaning of German words. How would you like it if I should explain the word treason in a manner dangerous to yourself, and if this explanation should result in translating your excellency into Siberia?" "General Fermore is neither my commander nor my master," cried Tottleben, proudly.
"It is the order of the commander-in-chief, Count von Fermore," said he; "and Tottleben will have to be all the more particular from the fact that, instead of the arsenal, fifty of our soldiers were blown into the air. Here, in the mean while, take this paper, and see whether, among the factories to be destroyed, one of yours has been included by mistake."
But now his German heart was forced into silence by the exigencies of Russian discipline, and the general had to obey the orders of his superior officer, General von Fermore. His chief had ordered him to exercise the utmost severity and harshness, and imposed upon him the task of scourging Berlin like a demon of vengeance.
And yet Berlin had committed no other crime than that of remaining faithful to her king, and of not wishing to surrender to the enemy. A fresh dispatch had just arrived from General von Fermore, and its contents had darkened the brow of Tottleben with anxious care. He had received orders to blow up the arsenal in Berlin.
For a long time did he pace his room in abstract meditation, anger and pity, fear and terror struggling in his soul. He was perfectly aware of the danger which threatened him. He knew that Count Fermore hated him as a dangerous rival for the smiles of the empress, and only waited for a favorable opportunity to overthrow him.
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