THE REMINISCENCES OF CARL SCHURZ
for an honest man's dress, suddenly went out with a peculiarly sly smile. When he returned carrying a few filled glasses, he said, “Herr Professor, in a room near by some of your jailers are sitting around a bowl of punch. I have just asked them whether they would not permit me to take some for a few friends of mine who have just arrived. They had no objection. Now, Herr Professor, let us drink your health first out of the bowl of your jailers.” We found it difficult not to break out in loud laughter. Kinkel was now in his citizen's clothes, and his lacerated hands were washed and bandaged with handkerchiefs. He thanked his faithful friends with a few words which brought tears to their eyes. Then we jumped into Hensel's vehicle. The penitentiary officers were still singing and laughing around their punch bowl.
We had agreed that our carriage should leave Spandau through the Potsdam gate which opens upon the road to Hamburg, and then turn in a different direction in order to mislead the pursuit that was sure to follow. So we rattled at a fast trot through the gate, and this ruse succeeded so well that, as we learned later, we were really the next day, in accordance with the report of the guard at the gate, pursued in the direction of Hamburg. Before we reached the little town of Nauen we turned to the right on a field road and reached the Berlin-Strelitz turnpike near the Sandkrug. Our bays made the best of their speed.
Only when the keen night air touched his face, Kinkel seemed to come to a clear consciousness of what had happened. “I would like to hold your hand in mine,” he said, “but I cannot; my hands are too much torn.”
He then put his arm around me and pressed me once and again. I would not let him express his gratitude in words, but told him how the night before everything had been so well ar-
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