"Why torment ourselves by further efforts?" cried another. "We shall have to submit. Heaven itself is against us. See the ice-crust on the Oder. This cold weather is a fresh ally of the French! So soon as the Oder and the ditches are firmly frozen over, they will cross, and take the city by assault. Of course, we shall be required again to risk our lives in breaking the ice amid bullets and shells. The only question is, whether you will do so."
"No! no!" shouted the crowd. "We have suffered enough! We will neither break the ice in the Oder, nor extinguish the numerous fires. Too many of our countrymen have fallen already; it is time for us to think of saving the lives that remain!"
"No!" cried a powerful voice—"no! it is time for you to think of saving your honor!"
"Count Pückler!" murmured the people, looking at the tall, imperious man, who had mounted the curb-stone at the corner of the market-place, and cast angry glances on the crowd.
"Will you listen to me?" asked the count, almost imploringly.
"Yes, yes," exclaimed a hundred voices, "we will listen to you!" And all approached and encircled him.
"Now speak, count," said one of the men, standing closest to him. "We know that you are a good patriot, and a noble friend of the people. Tell us what we ought to do. Tell us whether you think that there is hope for us!"
"There is," replied Count Pückler. "There is hope of succor."
"Ah, succor will not come," cried the people, scornfully, "and though it should, the generals would act again as if they could not see any thing, keep the gates shut, and fail to make a sortie. Speak of other hopes that you think are still left to us, count!"
"Well, there is the hope that the weather will relax—that the Oder and the ditches will not freeze, and that the enemy, consequently, will be unable to cross them. By bombardment alone Breslau cannot be taken. Our fortifications will resist the enemy's artillery a long while; and, if you do not waver, but struggle on bravely, you may preserve to your king his most beloved province and one of his best fortresses. Think of the honor it would reflect on you if the whole world should say: 'The citizens of Breslau preserved to their king the great capital of Silesia! During the days of danger and distress they hastened fearlessly to the ramparts, not only to carry food and refreshments to the defenders, but to transform themselves into soldiers, to man the guns, and hurl balls at the enemy!'"