"My Frederick, I love you so tenderly—do not repel me!" wailed Camilla.
All was silent. "I must use force," said the count, concealing his anguish under the guise of anger. "Hasten to a locksmith," he added, turning to the footman; "he is to come here at once, and bring his tools with him. Notify also the officers at the neighboring police-station." The footman withdrew.
"My beloved," cried Camilla, wringing her hands, and her face bathed in a flood of tears, "my Frederick, I love you better than my life! Your wish shall be complied with. Open your door, and admit me. If I cannot live I will die with you! Oh, do not remain silent—give me a sign that you are still living—tell me at least that you forgive me—that—"
She paused, for a song suddenly resounded in the room; it was not a song of sorrow, but of wrath and manly courage. The words were as follows:
"Tod du süsser, für das Vaterland!
Süsser als der Brautgruss, als das Lallen
Auf dem Mutterschooss des ersten Kindes,
Sei mir willkommen!
Was das Lied nicht löset, löst das Schwert,
Blinkend Heil, umgürte meine Hüften,
Von der Schande kannst du Tapfre retten,
Zierde der Tapfern!"[30]
The voice died away. Camilla was on her knees, with clasped hands; her parents stood behind her in devout silence. Suddenly noisy footsteps drew near. At the entrance of the corridor appeared the footman with the locksmith, who came with his tools to open the door. The old count made a sign to him to stand aloof. He had heard a movement in the room, and he hoped Camilla's lover would voluntarily admit them.
A pause ensued—then a terrible report was heard in the room. Camilla uttered a loud shriek, and sank senseless to the floor.
An hour later, the locksmith succeeded in opening the door, which had been strongly bolted inside. Count Pückler sat in the easy-chair in front of his desk, immovable, with his face calm and uninjured, the pistol still in his hand. He had aimed well. The bullet had pierced his heart. On the desk in front of him lay a sheet of paper, containing the following words:
"Last greeting to Ferdinand von Schill, who took an oath with me that we would live and die as faithful sons of our country! Our country is sinking ignominiously into the dust; I will not, cannot survive the disgrace, and, therefore, I die. Farewell, you who took that oath with me—farewell Schill and Staps! I hope you will be happier than myself! I am the first of us three who dies because he despairs of his country. Will you survive me long? May God give you strength to do so! Farewell until we meet again!