truth, he's dead. I was up there; they telephoned. At that very moment he died."
"At the right moment," said Diederich, looking around him in astonishment, as if awaking from a dream. "The hand of God has again proved itself," Pastor Zillich affirmed, and Diederich became aware that this was a hand not to be despised. What, if it had given another turn to the wheel of fate? … The parties in the hall were dispersing. The intervention of death in politics had turned the parties into human beings. They spoke in lowered tones and withdrew. When Diederich reached the street he also heard that old Buck had had a stroke.
The final voting took place at three o'clock in the afternoon. An alarm was sounded in Kaiser Wilhelmstrasse, and every one rushed to the windows and shop doors to see where the fire was. It was the Veterans' Association marching past in uniform. Their flag pointed the way of honour. Kühnchen, who was in command, had his helmet on the back of his neck and was swinging his sword in a fearsome manner. Diederich with the rank and file tramped along, and rejoiced at the thought that now everything further would be done in line, mechanically and in obedience to superior orders. The march of Power had trampled old Buck into pulp! … At the other end of the street they received the new colours, which were presented with thunderous music and cheers of pride. The procession, lengthened by unlimited reinforcements of patriots, reached Klappsch's premises. Here they formed into sections and Kühnchen gave the command: "To the urns." The election committee, with Pastor Zillich at the head, was waiting in the hall, festively attired. Kühnchen issued his commands in martial tones. "On, comrades, to the poll! We vote for Fischer!" Whereupon the music crashed and they marched from the left wing into the polling-booth. The entire procession followed the Veterans' Association. Klappsch was not prepared for so much enthusiasm, and had run out of
