"I must ask you a favour, Keudell," he said gravely: "will you play me that Funeral March of Beethoven. You remember it. You played it one evening before the war."
Keudell rose with alacrity, and seated himself at the piano.
Again the impressive chords of the mighty Hymn of Death arose,--the ladies listened breathlessly.
Count Bismarck drew himself to his full height; his grave, strongly-marked features shone with enthusiasm.
He drew a deep breath as Herr von Keudell ended.
"Many heroes have fallen," he said, in a deep voice, "but the prize is won,--their blood has not flowed in vain. Time has brought many sorrows,--discords will still echo in the future. May the Almighty resolve them into the glorious harmony of a great United Germany!"
His voice swelled through the room,--the countess looked at him with tearful eyes. Solemnly, and as if involuntarily, Keudell raised his hands, and let them sink upon the keys. Then that War-cry of the Faith arose, in the glorious tones in which the great Reformer expressed his rooted confidence in the God of Battles.
Count Bismarck raised his eyes upwards, a look of happiness passed over his excited features, and, following the melody, his lips whispered softly--
"Ein' feste Burg ist unser Gott,
Ein' starke Wehr und Waffen!"