Conrad trembled as he was led before the general, though that officer looked, to his boyish eyes, more like a woman than a stalwart fighting-man. His tall body was enveloped in a great, shaggy fur coat right down to the feet, and a white nightcap covered his head. Nothing but the moustache on the pale face indicated the warlike calling of the man who now addressed Conrad.
[Illustration: Nothing but the mustache on the pale face indicated
the warlike calling of the man who now addressed Conrad.]
'How many people have come to live in your town on account of the siege?'
'Oh, they might be somewhere in the sixties,' replied Conrad, carefully conformable to truth.
'Are you starving in Freiberg?'
'My mother and her cat sometimes, nobody else. And then that is all my stepfather's fault, because he will keep the bread cupboard locked up.'
'Do the citizens and soldiers hold together still? Are they not getting down-hearted?'
'Oh, well, at first there were a few squabbles. The Herr Burgomaster had a tiff with the Herr Commandant, but now they are just like brothers; all their quarrels are over, and they are in first-rate spirits.'