Before them flash lights, like golden stars, like bonfires of rejoicing.
"Count, those are the lights of Spandow! Just see those torches there! The commandant is waiting for you at the entrance to the fort with his torchbearers."
"On! on!" shout the three, and they race onward at lightning speed. And at lightning speed the pursuers follow. Nearer they come, ever nearer.
"I have them! I have caught them!" exults Burgsdorf, springing forward and stretching out his hands toward the fugitives, for it seems to him as if he can indeed lay his hand upon them. "Halt! halt! in the name of the Elector!"
"Forward! forward! What care we for the Elector? What care we for
Burgsdorf? Forward!"
The lights increase in size and brilliancy. Now they distinguish torches and the figures of men.
"Are you there, count?" calls down Colonel von Rochow from the wall.
"It is I, colonel!"
The gate is open, they gallop in!
Over the wooden bridge gallop the pursuers after them. Now they are at the gate. But the gate slams to with thundering sound. The pursuers are left without.