"I told you," replied the merchant, "that our journey would have some inconveniences. Men are never more troublesome than when they play at being soldiers. In other respects, this guard over us does no harm; at least, with such an escort, we are sure to be admitted into the city."
It was evening when they reached the capital. A red glare in the sky showed them their goal while they were still far from it. As they approached, they met numerous companies of armed men moving in and out. Next came a long detention at the gates—an interchange of questions and answers—an examination of the travelers by the aid of lanterns and pine torches, angry looks, and even intelligible threats, and, finally, a long drive through the streets of the old capital. Sometimes all around them was still as death; sometimes a wild cry resounded from the crowd, all the more alarming because the words were not understood.
At length the driver turned into a square, and stopped before a handsome house. The travelers were surrounded and pushed up a broad staircase by a crowd of gay uniforms, laced coats, and clean smock frocks. Next they were thrust into a large apartment, and placed before a gentleman wearing white silk gloves, who looked into a written report, and briefly informed them that, according to the report of the commandant at the station, they were suspected of being spies, and were to undergo a court-martial. The merchant at once broke out in high displeasure: "I am sorry that your informant should have told you a great falsehood, for we have undertaken this journey on the highway and in broad daylight, for the express purpose of speaking to your governors. The horses and carriage which brought me here are both mine, and it was an uncalled-for act of politeness on the part of your commandant to furnish me with an escort. I wish to see the gentleman in command here as soon as possible; it is to him alone that I mean to impart the motive of my journey; be so good, therefore, as to hand him my passport."
The official examined the passport, and, looking at Anton, proceeded to inquire, with somewhat more consideration, "But this gentleman? He has the appearance of an officer in your army."
"I am a clerk of Mr. Schröter's," returned Anton, with a bow; "and out and out a civilian."
"Wait a while," said the young man, superciliously, going with the passport into a neighboring room.
As he remained away some time, and no one interfered with the travelers, they sat down on a bench, and tried to appear as unconcerned as possible. Anton first cast an anxious glance at his principal, who was looking down gloomily, and then gazed about him in amazement. The room in which they were was lofty, and the ceiling much ornamented, but the walls were dirty and smoke-stained; tables, chairs, and benches stood about in confusion, and seemed as if just brought in from the nearest tavern. A few writers bent over their papers, while soldiers sat or lay along the walls, asleep or talking loudly, several of them in French. A room like this, dimly lighted, was not calculated to make a cheerful impression upon Anton, who whispered to the merchant, "If revolutions in general look like this, they are ugly things."
"They always destroy, and seldom recreate," was the reply. "I am afraid that this room is an emblem of the whole town: the painted coat of arms on the ceiling, and the dirty bench on which we are sitting. When such contrasts as these are brought into juxtaposition, it is enough to make a sober-minded man cross himself in horror. The nobles and the people are bad enough, taken separately, when they each try their hands at government; but when they unite, they are sure to bring down the house that holds them."
"The nobles are the most troublesome," said Anton. "Commend me to our krakuse; he was a polite insurgent, and knew the value of a half dollar; but these gentlemen seem to have no business notions at all."
"Let us wait a little," said the principal.