"Gracious sir, it is impossible to calm these madmen. They no longer heed orders. They are beside themselves with rage. They have already broken open the doors and forced their way into the entrance hall. They will plunder and despoil the whole palace! We can save nothing more, prevent nothing more! You are lost, so are we, and all Berlin!"
"Be it so!" says Schwarzenberg loftily. "Let the whole earth fall down and overwhelm me in its ruins. I shall but be buried beneath them!"
"Gracious sir, only hear! The howling and yelling come ever nearer, and are continually gaining in strength! Gracious sir, have pity upon us, upon yourself! Save us all!"
"Save? How can I save any one? Will those savage hordes obey me, when they refuse submission to you, their officers?"
"Gracious sir, they demand their pay! They demand money! Nothing will appease them but money, and assurances that they shall have their winter allowance. Give us money to quiet that raging host! Money—money!"
"How much would you have? How much is needful to tame that fierce, wild horde?"
"Three hundred dollars!" calls out Herr von Kracht.
"No; four hundred dollars!" shouts Herr von Rochow.
"Five hundred dollars!" growls Herr von Goldacker. "No, give us six hundred dollars, which would do the thing thoroughly."
"Well, be it six hundred dollars then," says the count, with an expression of contemptuous scorn. "Stay here, gentlemen; I will return directly. I am only going to fetch the money."