'We are too late,' sighed Fessel. 'The music comes from the direction of the Striegauer-gate. The Lichtensteins are already in the city.'
'Then may God by some miracle give the lie to my fears, and Goes keep his word!' cried Dorn. 'I anticipate dreadful scenes.'
Fessel opened the window and listened to the music, which at first appeared to approach, but afterwards sounded fainter and fainter as if receding. 'Do you hear?' said he to his distrusting brother-in-law, 'you owe an apology to the worthy colonel for your suspicions. The troops are already passing out by the Nieder-gate.'
'God grant it may be so,' sighed Dorn, placing himself by Fessel's side at the window. 'I am not yet satisfied of the fact, however.' Both continued listening to the last dying tones of the march.
'How the ear can deceive one!' said Fessel. 'It now seems to me as if the music were again approaching.'
'I fear it does not deceive you this time,' answered Dorn significantly. At that moment a cry of fear and anguish arose along the main street, and the worthy serjeant-at-arms of the city council was seen breathlessly running toward the town-house.
'Whither with such haste?' cried Fessel to him from the window.
'God be merciful to us!' cried the serjeant. 'The soldiers have made a halt at the Nieder-gate, have relieved and dismissed the burgher guard there, and, turning to the left about, are now marching up the main street.
'That indeed does not look much like passing through the city,' sighed Fessel, closing the window. 'It rather indicates an intention to take up permanent quarters here.'
'For the purpose of proselytism!' cried Dorn, despondingly. 'Now God be merciful to me! For if these villains insult our women, I shall die no natural death.'