The convent steps served Fritz as a platform. Addressing his hearers as "brothers," he spoke to them about freedom and the constitution and civic duties, about the schemes of the reactionaries, about their common fatherland and emperor and the glorious days they had just witnessed. Now and then a hoarse outcry from his auditors forced him to pause, and more than once his remarks were punctuated by a flying potato or bit of tile hurled at his head. Richard, too, was hit twice by these missiles. "Comrade," cried the hussar officer, "I have had quite enough of these potatoes. Wind up your speech as soon as you can and let me try my hand. I shall find a way to make them listen, I promise you!" "It is a difficult situation," returned Fritz, wiping his brow. "The people have no love for the religious houses; but these nuns are women, and toward women even the revolutionist is chivalrous." "So I see," rejoined the other dryly, glancing up at the windows of the building, many of which had been shattered by missiles. Fortunately for the inmates, the cells were protected by inner shutters, which were all securely closed. The rioters now began to pelt the hussars, whose horses were becoming more and more restless. As Fritz opened his mouth to continue his speech, the man with the iron bar began to harangue also, and the people could understand neither of them. At that moment there appeared from the opposite direction an odd-looking, long-legged student, with three enormous ostrich plumes waving in his hat and a prominent red nose dominating his thin, smooth-shaven face. A tricoloured sash crossed his breast, while a slender parade-sword, girt high up under his arm to prevent his stumbling over it, hung at his side. With a quick step and a light spring, the young man was presently at the side of Richard and Fritz. "God keep you, comrades!" he cried in greeting. "Calm your fears, for here I am,--Hugo Mausmann, first lieutenant in the second legion. You are hard pressed just now, I can well believe. Friend Fritz is a famous orator, but only in the tragic vein. Tragedy is his forte. But a public speaker must know his audience. Here a Hans Sachs is called for rather than a Schiller. Only make your hearers laugh, and you have carried your point. Just let me give these folks a few of my rhymes, and you shall see them open their eyes, and then their mouths, and all burst out laughing; after that you can do what you will with them." "All right, comrade," returned Richard; "go ahead and make them laugh, or I shall have to try my hand at making them cry."