THE REMINISCENCES OF CARL SCHURZ
ranged, and how our plan had been crossed by an unfortunate accident, and what a mournful ride I had had in the same carriage only twenty-four hours before.
“That was the most terrible night of my life,” said Kinkel. “After Brune had instructed me to hold myself ready, I waited for the appointed hour with the most confident expectation. Before midnight I was up. I listened as only an ear practiced in long isolation can listen. Now and then I heard a distinct noise of steps in the corridors, but they would not approach. I heard the clocks outside strike the hours. When midnight was past the thought first rose in me: ‘Is it possible that this should fail?’ Minute after minute went by, and all remained quiet. Then I was seized by an anguish which I cannot describe. The perspiration dropped from my forehead. Until one o'clock I had still a little hope, but when even then Brune did not come I gave up everything for lost. The most gruesome pictures rose in my imagination. The whole design had surely been discovered. You were in the hands of the police and also imprisoned for many years. I saw myself a miserable wreck in convict's garb. My wife and my children perished in misery. I shook the rails in my cell like a madman. Then I dropped exhausted upon my straw bed. I believe I was nearly insane.”
“Well, and this night?”
“Oh, this night,” Kinkel exclaimed, “I could hardly trust my eyes and ears when Brune with a lantern in his hand came into my cell and whispered to me, ‘Get up quickly, Herr Professor; now you shall get out.’ That was an electric shock. In a moment I was on my feet, but do you know that to-night again everything was on the point of going wrong?”
I listened eagerly, and again and again a cold shiver ran down my back as Kinkel proceeded with his story. Half an
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