“Great God! what is that?  Are not those the towers of Glatz? and that dark spectre which raises itself so threateningly against the horizon, is not that the citadel?”

And so it was.  The poor fugitives have wandered round and round the whole night through, and they are now, alas! exactly where they started.

“We are lost,” murmured Schnell; “there is no hope!” “No, we are not lost!” shouted Trenck; “we have young, healthy limbs, and weapons.  They shall never take us alive.”

“But we cannot escape them.  Our appearance will instantly betray us; I am in full uniform, and you in your red coat of the body-guard, both of us without hats.  Any man would know we were deserters.”

“Woe to him who calls us so! we will slay him, and walk over his dead body.  And now for some desperate resolve.  We cannot go backward, we must advance, and pass right through the midst of our enemies in order to reach the border.  You know the way, and the whole region round about.  Come.  Schnell, let us hold a council of war.”

“We must pass through that village in front of us.  How shall we attempt to do so unchallenged?”

Half an hour later a singular couple drew near to the last house of the village.  One was a severely wounded, bleeding officer of the king’s body-guard; his face was covered with blood, a bloody handkerchief was bound about his brow, and his hands tied behind his back.  Following him, limped an officer in full parade dress, but bareheaded.  With rude, coarse words he drove the poor prisoner before him, and cried for help.  Immediately two peasants rushed from the house.

“Run to the village,” said the officer, “and tell the judge to have a carriage got ready immediately, that I may take this deserter to the fortress.  I succeeded in capturing him, but he shot my horse, and I fear I broke a bone in falling; you see, though, how I have cut him to pieces.  I think he is mortally wounded.  Bring a carriage instantly, that I may take him, while yet alive, to the citadel.”

One of the men started at once, the other nodded to them to enter his hut.

Stumbling and stammering out words of pain, the wounded man followed him; cursing and railing, the officer limped behind him.  On entering the room, the wounded man sank upon the floor, groaning aloud.  A young girl advanced hastily, and took his wounded head in her arms; while an old woman, who stood upon the hearth, brought a vessel of warm milk to comfort him.

The old peasant stood at the window, and looked, with a peculiar smile, at the officer, who seated himself upon a bench near the fire, and drank the milk greedily which the old woman handed him.  Suddenly the old man advanced in front of the officer and laid his hand on his shoulder.

“Your disguise is not necessary, Lieutenant Schnell, I know you; my son served in your company.  There was an officer from the citadel here last night, and informed us of the two deserters.  You are one, Lieutenant Schnell, and that is the other.  That is Baron Trenck.”