practised by the market-men. Then she went to poor Bessie, who
sat, pale and weak, in a little chair. Her prettiest doll had been lying
an hour in the same position on her lap. The child's little hands and
will were too feeble to move the toy. Trautchen brought in a cup of new
milk. The citizens were not yet wholly destitute of this, for a goodly
number of cows still grazed outside the city walls under the protection
of the cannon, but the child refused to drink and could only be induced,
amid tears, to swallow a few drops.

While Maria was affectionately coaxing the little one, Peter entered
the room. The tall man, the very model of a stately burgher, who paid
careful heed to his outward appearance, now looked careless of
his person. His brown hair hung over his forehead, his thick,
closely-trimmed moustache straggled in thin lines over his cheeks, his
doublet had grown too large, and his stockings did not fit snugly as
usual, but hung in wrinkles on his powerful legs.

Greeting his wife with a careless wave of the hand, he approached the
child and gazed silently at it a long time with tender affection. Bessie
turned her pretty little face towards him and tried to welcome him, but
the smile died on her lips, and she again gazed listlessly at her doll,
Peter stooped, raised her in his arms, called her by name and pressed
his lips to her pale cheeks. The child gently stroked his beard and then
said feebly:

"Put me down, dear father, I feel dizzy up here." The burgomaster, with
tears in his eyes, put his darling carefully back in her little chair,
then left the room and went to his study. Maria followed him and asked
"Is there no message yet from the Prince or the estates?"

He silently shrugged his shoulders.

"But they will not, dare not forget us?" cried the young wife eagerly.

"We are perishing and they leave us to die," he answered in a hollow
tone.

"No, no, they have pierced the dykes; I know they will help us."

"When it is too late. One thing follows another, misfortune is heaped
on misfortune, and on whom do the curses of the starving people fall? On
me, me, me alone."

"You are acting with the Prince's commissioner."

Peter smiled bitterly, saying: "He took to his bed yesterday. Bontius
says it is the plague. I, I alone bear everything."

"We bear it with you," cried Maria. "First poverty, then hunger, as we
promised."

"Better than that. The last grain was baked today. The bread is
exhausted.