He could die; it was not necessary that he should bear the pain and humiliation of life.  He could take refuge in the quiet, silent grave under the turf, which would soon be decked with flowers over his agonized breast.  He had worked much; his feet were sore, and his heart weary, from his walk through life.  Why should he not lay himself down in the grave to rest, to dream, or to sink in the arms of eternal, dreamless sleep?

But this enticing thought he cast forcibly from him.  He had not yet lost all hope.  His anticipations rose as the door opened, and the servant handed him a large sealed letter, which the courier from Leipsic had just brought.  With hasty hand he seized the letter, and motioned to Peter to retire.  But as soon as he was alone, and was about to break the seal, he drew back and hesitated.  This letter might, indeed, contain his salvation; but it might also contain his death-sentence.  He weighed it in his hand thoughtfully, and muttered to himself:  “It is as light as a feather, and yet its contents may be heavy enough to hurl me down the abyss.  But this is foolish,” he exclaimed aloud, drawing himself up proudly.  “At least I will know my fate, and see clearly into the future.”

With a firm hand he broke the seal.  But as he read, horror and dismay were depicted in his countenance, and his whole frame shook.  Violently he flung the paper on the ground.  “This, then, this is my reward—­reproaches, accusations, instead of thanks; scorn and malice, instead of compassion.  Reproaches, because I assisted them; accusations, that I had offered to help them; only because without me it would have been impossible for the King of Prussia to raise so much money.  Without my mediation, they say, they would not have paid, but at the utmost would have had to endure a somewhat longer imprisonment, which would have been more tolerable than the loss of such immense sums.”

He paced impatiently up and down, and as he came to the letter he spurned it with his foot, like a poisonous adder, too loathsome to touch.  “I have deserved this punishment,” cried he, laughing aloud from inward pain.

“Who bade me love mankind? who bade me help them, instead of like a highwayman falling upon and plundering them, when they were defenceless?  Fool that I was to give to life any other interpretation, any other end!” He threw himself in a chair, and was soon buried in thought.  Once more he reviewed his whole past, and as he made up the accounts of his life, he had to confess that the total of his hours of happiness was but small, while that of his years of misery and toil was heavy enough to bear him down.  But there was still one hope, and as long as he could expect De Neufville’s arrival all was not lost, and he must still wait in patience, still struggle with the worm that gnawed at his heart.  With such painful thoughts as these was he busied when the door opened, and Elise entered with a glowing countenance.