WHEN Michael Stumff came down to breakfast the next morning, he looked round for his guest in vain.

"Where's the Sandwirth?" said he to Alouise.

"Half way to the Brenner, I suppose," said Alouise. "Why, father, you must have slept heavily, if you did not hear the uproar this morning! The alarm-bells began to ring before it was light, and a dozen country fellows came running down the street, bawling 'Sandwirth! Sandwirth!' Open flew the Sandwirth's window; he gives a jÖdel[1] that might be heard a mile off, which makes them stop short. 'Here I am, my boys,' cries he, 'what's the matter?' The next moment they were all under his window. 'Speckbacher took Halle yesterday!' cries one. 'Hurra!' cries Hofer. 'But the French and Bavarians are coming down upon us from the Brenner,' cries another. 'Aha! then we'll go to meet them,' cries Hofer; 'I'll be with you this minute.' And his door flew open. I just popped my head out of mine, and said, 'Sandwirth, I'll be down directly, if you will wait for some breakfast.' 'No time, thank you,' replied he, running along the gallery. 'Just one cup of coffee!' cried I. 'No, dear; we are going to breakfast on gunpowder,' says he, laughing: and so off. Dear me, it quite set my heart a-beating; it was all in such a moment. Who knows? Perhaps the Bavarians may be masters of Innsbruck again, before nightfall, father?"

"There's no knowing, child."

"I don't know that I could have done less than ask the Sandwirth home, father, when I saw him last night, standing about, in the lobby, looking quite puzzled."

"Certainly not, child. The poor, simple fellow"—said Stumff, with an air of complacent superiority—"would have come to mischief of one sort or another, for he knows as little as a child. A brave, honest heart, and a good marksman, Alouise; and when you've said that, you've said all. Give me my breakfast quick, child, that I may go out and look about me a little."

Alouise poured out his coffee, and gave him a slice of bread, and then hurried to the house door, calling eagerly to one or two persons who were hurrying along, to ask them what was going forward. They only replied, "Atzwanger is turning out the armed burghers," and ran off; and her father, with his mouth full, soon followed, bidding her take good care of the house. So there was she, alone in the midst of bustle, feeling solitude doubly lonely, till at length she called to a little boy who was cleaning knives, and said,—

"Dolf, run down to the gates, and bring me word what is going on."

When he was gone, she thought he would perhaps not return; and felt more solitary than ever, till the young man who had escorted her to the theatre dropped in.

"We're in a fine mess," said he. "Here are the Bavarians coming back."

"Aye—what shall we do? Perhaps they will get possession of Innsbruck again."

"Very likely. For my part, I hope they will."

"Oh, Leopold! How can you be so unpatriotic?"

"Why, you see, Alouise, Buonaparte is sure to get the better of us in the end, so he may as well beat us at once and have done with it."

"Perhaps he won't beat us in the end."

"Oh, yes, he will."

"That's no argument. Why don't you go and help fight?"

"Thank you, I'm not that way inclined. I told Atzwanger I'd sprained my trigger-finger. What's all that hammering about, up stairs? Are you putting up defences?"

"Oh, no! A poor lame man lodges in our attic, who is amusing himself by making a barrel-organ, with a curious set of dancing automatons at the top. His whole heart is in it. He thinks the Tyrolese war nothing in comparison. Indeed, I doubt if he knows there is one."

"Oh, come!"

"Well, I'll take him up his breakfast, and hear what he has to say about it; and you can hear what I say and what he says, if you prick up your ears."

Leopold went to the foot of a dark, steep back-stair, up which Alouise tripped, with a coffee-pot and some bread; and after she had tapped at the door he heard the following dialogue:—

"Come in!"

"I've brought you some breakfast, Martin."

"Thank you; though I am almost too busy to eat it."

"How are you getting on?"

"Take care! don't tread on that barrel!"

"I don't see one."

"Not a beer-barrel, but an organ-barrel."

"Oh, I see; well, do you know what a bustle we were in, yesterday?"

"Chimney-sweeps?"

"Chimney-sweeps! no! Why, the Tyrolese took Innsbruck, and drove out the Bavarians!"

"You don't say so! Soho! hum! A pretty piece of work. I'll hear all about it presently, or the glue will get cold. I'm afraid, you see, Alouise, that this glue is not strong enough; which is the reason why the woodwork will not stick. Soho!—poor Tyrolese!"

"Poor Bavarians, you mean! Why, the Tyrolese won the day!"

"Oh, did they so really? Well, now,—humph!—poor fellows!"

"And we had one of them to sleep here, last night."

"Really, really! By the bye, are you anything of a mechanician?"

"Not in the least."

"Then it's no use asking you the thing I want to know. Hum!—poor Innsbruckers—poor Tyrolese, I mean."

"But, Martin, we Innsbruckers are Tyrolese."

"To be sure, to be sure—who doesn't know that? This tiresome glue! That was just what I was saying."

"That? What?"

"Well—now you puzzle me—I think this will stick, at last."

"Well, I see you don't take any interest in the matter, so I won't waste your time. Perhaps the Bavarians will have recovered possession of the town before bedtime."

"Perhaps so, perhaps so—nothing more likely."

She ran down stairs, laughing. "Just the old story," said she to Leopold; "every man thinking his own affairs of more importance than those of all the world besides. How now, Dolf?" to the boy, who ran in glowing and panting.

"There's fine work, mistress. They're barricading the gates with casks and wagons, and closing all the houses. May I go back?"

"No, no, you must not leave me."

"I'll bring you word every ten minutes how things are going on.—It's so jolly!"

"Well, Dolf, if you will promise me very faithfully indeed to do that, you may go; and I'll give you a cake at supper-time besides. But mind you keep an eye, if you can, on my father."

Away scampered the boy; and Leopold prepared to go too.

"Don't you go," said Alouise. "I shall be afraid."

"Oh, very well," said he, stretching himself and yawning. She gave him an old newspaper, which he began to pore over; but on returning to the kitchen after a short absence, she found him gone.

"That's just the way," said she to herself, pouting; "much he cares for my safety, in spite of the pretty things he said to me last night. I suppose Nannette will be off next, if I do not go to look after her."

Nannette was stretching her head out of one of the upper windows, so intent on catching all she could of the distant uproar, that she was not aware of her mistress's presence till Alouise gave a smart pluck at her dress. However, Alouise had no sooner set her to scour the bedrooms than she herself went up to the very top of the house, which had, like many of the dwellings in the Tyrol, a sort of open story or penthouse raised over the flat roof, from whence she could descry a little, but not much, of the stir near the gates.

Dolf returned once or twice to report various successes, including the capture of General Wrede, and, towards nine o'clock (for they are early people), numbers of men running through the streets, waving their hats and shouting, proclaimed the day to be won by the Tyrolese.

In consequence of a letter which Martin Teimer had compelled General Kinkel to write to the Bavarian commander, General Wrede himself, accompanied by a French officer, had ridden to the gates, with so strong a guard, that the Tyrolese, considering them aggressors, drove them back with great loss, and took the General and his companion prisoners. The discomfited fugitives carried back to their lines such a formidable account of the strength and fury of the Tyrolese, that the French and Bavarians were thrown into the greatest consternation, especially the latter, who had lost their principal officer.

Martin Teimer, accompanied by Baron Taxis and Atzwanger, the leader of the armed burghers, and also by several Tyrolese leaders, repaired to the French lines, where they were courteously received by Colonel Bisson, who protested he intended no injury to the town, and merely wished to carry his troops unmolested to Augsburg. He made no stipulation for the Bavarians. Teimer, inspirited by his capture of Wrede, would hear of nothing short of the surrender of the whole army, to which Bisson a little impatiently replied that he would rather sacrifice every man under his command.

Teimer, without deigning a reply, returned to the Tyrolese, who immediately opened a deadly fire on the enemy. Their shouts and impetuosity so petrified the French grenadiers that for a while they stood motionless without returning a shot. The French officers conjured Bisson to surrender on honourable terms to Teimer, whom they recalled for the purpose, and Bisson at length most reluctantly countersigned the following articles, which the reader may decide whether honourable or not.

"In the name of Francis the First, Emperor of Austria, the French and Bavarian troops at Steinach and Wiltau, agree to the following terms:—

"First. That they shall immediately lay down their arms.

"Second. That the whole body of the eighth division shall surrender to the Austrian troops at Schwatz.

"Third. That any Tyrolese who have been made prisoners shall be set free.

"Fourth. The officers of the French and Bavarian army shall be set free, with their swords, baggage, horses, &c., untouched.

"Given by me for his Royal Highness Archduke John, at Innsbruck, April 13, 1809, at half-past eight in the forenoon.

"Martin Teimer,
"Major and Authorized Commissioner.

"Countersigned,

"Armance,
"Varin,
"Bisson,[C]
"&c. &c."

The prisoners thus made, were marched to Schwatz, and thence to Salzburg, under the escort of women; as men could not be spared for the occasion. The success of this day (achieved before nine o'clock in the morning) was undoubtedly mainly owing to Martin Teimer; as General Chastelar, though pushing on from Sterzing, did not arrive in time to be of any use. Buonaparte, however, provoked at the issue of the day, and not stooping to such ignoble prey, at present, as Tyrolean innkeepers and tobacconists, issued an act of outlawry against "the person named Chastelar, styling himself a general in the Austrian service," charging him (without the least ground) with the massacre of prisoners; and sentencing him, if caught, to be tried by martial law, and, if found guilty, to be shot in twenty-four hours.

Meanwhile the worthy general was thinking it no scorn to entertain Hofer and Martin Teimer at his table, and talk over the events of the day. The Tyrolese are temperate and abstemious to a proverb; but these mountaineers had fought hard and were hungry; they probably had never heard the Wise King's injunction, "When thou sittest to eat with a ruler, consider diligently what is before thee; and put a knife to thy throat if thou be given to appetite;" and therefore drank the sweet and ate the fat with relish that was too little disguised to escape the satirical notice of certain junior officers, by whom it was afterwards turned against them. After all, they ate and drank but moderately, and were much fuller of their success than their dinner; yet they spoke but moderately too, and in simple phrase; and their censors decided them to be phlegmatic. The good-natured Chastelar pushed the wine towards them and bade them drink to the Emperor.