At this moment a lady entered the room. Her dress indicated poverty, and her face was pale and sunken, but her eyes were lit up with a noble enthusiasm. "The wedding-rings are exchanged here?" she asked.
"Yes, here."
She quickly drew two from her finger, and handed them to M. Werkmeister. "Take them," she cried. "One of these rings belongs to me, the other I drew from the finger of my dear husband. Ten years have elapsed since then; I have always worn them, and, although I have often suffered great privations, I could never part with my only treasure. But to-day I do so joyously. Give me my iron rings!" She took those handed her, and placed them on her finger. "Farewell, sir," she said. "These will be my daughter's heirloom, and I know she will rejoice over them." She had not yet crossed the threshold when another lady appeared, and another, and more followed in rapid succession. The newspapers, containing the request, had been read in the whole city; all the married women hastened to comply with it, and to lay down their wedding-rings on the altar of the fatherland. Leonora stood as if fascinated by the beautiful and soul-stirring scene. With radiant eyes she gazed at the ladies who came and received with joyous pride iron rings in exchange for gold ones—at the young women, who, blushing and with tearful eyes, gave up their first love-pledge—at the old matrons who came totteringly to exchange the golden reminiscences of the days of their youth for iron ornaments. [Footnote: On the first day about two hundred wedding-rings were exchanged.—Vide Beitzke, vol. i.] Tears of profound emotion fell from Leonora's eyes. She wished to embrace these women and thank them for their patriotism.
"I will also prove to the country how ardently I love it," she said to herself. "I will also make my sacrifices. I must go, Caroline is waiting for me. I must buy arms for the soldiers whom I intend to furnish." She shook hands with her godfather in silence. The crowd in front of the door receded before her, and allowed her to pass, filled with reverence for the women who returned from the solemn sacrifice they had made. She passed on, absorbed in her reflections. Once she raised her hand, and contemplated the iron ring on her finger. "I gave gold for iron!" she said, raising her dark eyes toward heaven. "I am now a bride, too, the bride of my country! Will it give me only iron for the gold of my love? Only a bullet or a sword-cut? No matter! I am the bride of the fatherland! I will live and die for it!" She was aroused from her musings by cheers suddenly resounding from the side of the Gendarmes Market. An immense crowd had assembled there, and shouted frantically, their faces beaming with joy.
"What is it?"
And a hundred jubilant voices replied: "General York is coming with the Prussians! The king has reinstated York! The court-martial has acquitted him!" [Footnote: York made his entry into Berlin at the head of the Prussian troops on the 17th of March, 1813, and was received with boundless enthusiasm.]
"Long live noble General York!" shouted the crowd. "York was the first man to take heart, and brave the French!"
"York is coming to Berlin!" shouted others, hurrying from the adjoining streets to the market-place. "York, with his Prussians, is outside the King's Gate, and to-morrow he will make his entry into Berlin!"
"Long live the brave general! All Berlin will meet him to-morrow, and cheer him who first drew his sword against the French! The new era is dawning on Prussia!"
"Yes, the new era is dawning on Prussia!" exclaimed Leonora. "We have long walked in sadness. But morning is breaking—the morning of freedom. Now we shall boldly raise our heads. The country has called us, and we all have heard the call, and are ready to conquer or die. Hail, brave York! The time of thraldom is past! We shall rise from the dust, and the Germans will now reconquer the sacred right of being Germans. Oh, my heart, rejoice! I am no longer a girl, I am one of Lutzow's riflemen, and to-morrow I shall go to Breslau, and add another soldier to the Legion of Vengeance. Farewell, Leonora Prohaska, farewell! Now you are a man, and your soul must be manly, strong, and hopeful. Long live Prussia!"