“Yes, it is true we keep up the same strict discipline,” exclaimed the Russian; “but Moltke should have said that the soldier owes his health and life to the emperor, and not to the country. Words are useless; acts are what we insist upon.”
When leaving the house, there were a number of men, women, and children outside who awaited the governor. At seeing him, they all fell upon their knees, and lifted up their hands in supplication.
“Pardon! Mercy! Humanity!” were heard in confused accents.
“Keep quiet!” commanded Rasumowski. “Schulze, what does this mean?”
“Your honor, these are the poor people who live in the huts. They ask you, for God’s sake, not to destroy their only place of shelter.”
“Asking me to do a thing for God’s sake!” exclaimed the governor harshly. “If they had asked me to do so for the emperor’s sake, I would perhaps have granted their request. Begone! Away with you! My orders are to be obeyed!”
The people, however, did not rise, but burst forth into fresh lamentations and tears.
“Your honor,” said an old man, “graciously listen to us, as the good emperor would do, who always wishes to help his people. We built those huts by permission of the parish, and we strive to make a living in an honest way. We pay the taxes, and are not in debt to the emperor. If your honor destroys our huts, whither shall we poor people go? Must we live with the foxes and wolves in the forests? Is this the will of the emperor?”
“The emperor desires his subjects to live in comfortable houses, for which reason the huts must be removed,” answered Rasumowski.
“Your honor, we have no means to build comfortable houses,” replied the old man. “Look at the little children; they will die if the orders of your honor are executed.”