A woman is not unwomanly because she confronts danger boldly.But I have remarked, with respect to female courage, that it requires, more than that of men, to be sustained by hope; and that it droops more certainly in the presence of a MYSTERIOUS danger.The fancy of women is more active, if not stronger, and it influences more directly the physical nature.In this case few were the women who made even a show of defying the danger.On the contrary, with THEMfear took the form of sadness, while with many of the men it took that of wrath.
And how did the Russian guardsman conduct himself amidst this panic? Many were surprised at his behavior; some complained of it;I did neither.He took a reasonable interest in each separate case, listened to the details with attention, and, in the examination of persons able to furnish evidence, never failed to suggest judicious questions.But still he manifested a coolness almost amounting to carelessness, which to many appeared revolting.
But these people I desired to notice that all the other military students, who had been long in the army, felt exactly in the same way.In fact, the military service of Christendom, for the last ten years, had been anything but a parade service; and to those, therefore, who were familiar with every form of horrid butchery, the mere outside horrors of death had lost much of their terror.
In the recent murder there had not been much to call forth sympathy.The family consisted of two old bachelors, two sisters, and one grandniece.The niece was absent on a visit, and the two old men were cynical misers, to whom little personal interest attached.Still, in this case as in that of the Weishaupts, the same twofold mystery confounded the public mind--the mystery of the HOW, and the profounder mystery of the WHY.Here, again, no atom of property was taken, though both the misers had hordes of ducats and English guineas in the very room where they died.Their bias, again, though of an unpopular character, had rather availed to make them unknown than to make them hateful.In one point this case differed memorably from the other--that, instead of falling helpless, or flying victims (as the Weishaupts had done), these old men, strong, resolute, and not so much taken by surprise, left proofs that they had made a desperate defense.The furniture was partly smashed to pieces, and the other details furnished evidence still more revolting of the acharnement with which the struggle had been maintained.In fact, with THEM a surprise must have been impracticable, as they admitted nobody into their house on visiting terms.It was thought singular that from each of these domestic tragedies a benefit of the same sort should result to young persons standing in nearly the same relation.The girl who gave the alarm at the ball, with two little sisters, and a little orphan nephew, their cousin, divided the very large inheritance of the Weishaupts;and in this latter case the accumulated savings of two long lives all vested in the person of the amiable grandniece.
But now, as if in mockery of all our anxious consultations and elaborate devices, three fresh murders took place on the two consecutive nights succeeding these new arrangements.And in one case, as nearly as time could be noted, the mounted patrol must have been within call at the very moment when the awful work was going on.I shall not dwell much upon them; but a few circumstances are too interesting to be passed over.The earliest case on the first of the two nights was that of a currier.He was fifty years old; not rich, but well off.His first wife was dead, and his daughters by her were married away from their father's house.He had married a second wife, but, having no children by her, and keeping no servants, it is probable that, but for an accident, no third person would have been in the house at the time when the murderers got admittance.About seven o'clock, a wayfaring man, a journeyman currier, who, according to our German system, was now in his wanderjahre, entered the city from the forest.At the gate he made some inquiries about the curriers and tanners of our town; and, agreeably to the information he received, made his way to this Mr.Heinberg.Mr.Heinberg refused to admit him, until he mentioned his errand, and pushed below the door a letter of recommendation from a Silesian correspondent, describing him as an excellent and steady workman.Wanting such a man, and satisfied by the answers returned that he was what he represented himself, Mr.Heinberg unbolted his door and admitted him.Then, after slipping the bolt into its place, he bade him sit to the fire, brought him a glass of beer, conversed with him for ten minutes, and said: "You had better stay here to-night; I'll tell you why afterwards; but now I'll step upstairs, and ask my wife whether she can make up a bed for you; and do you mind the door while I'm away." So saying, he went out of the room.Not one minute had he been gone when there came a gentle knock at the door.
It was raining heavily, and, being a stranger to the city, not dreaming that in any crowded town such a state of things could exist as really did in this, the young man, without hesitation, admitted the person knocking.He has declared since--but, perhaps, confounding the feelings gained from better knowledge with the feelings of the moment--that from the moment he drew the bolt he had a misgiving that he had done wrong.A man entered in a horseman's cloak, and so muffled up that the journeyman could discover none of his features.In a low tone the stranger said, "Where's Heinberg?"--"Upstairs."--"Call him down, then." The journeyman went to the door by which Mr.Heinberg had left him, and called, "Mr.Heinberg, here's one wanting you!" Mr.Heinberg heard him, for the man could distinctly catch these words: "God bless me!
has the man opened the door? O, the traitor! I see it." Upon this he felt more and more consternation, though not knowing why.
