Huzza! how the flint strikes fire! how the horses’ hoofs resound on the pavement! how the gayly-dressed church-goers, who were advancing so worthily up the street, fly screaming to every side! how the lazy hussars thinking no harm, stand at the house doors, and fix their eyes with horror upon these two bold riders, who dash past them like a storm-wind!

And now they have reached the outer gate—­the city lies behind them.  Forward, forward, in mad haste!  The horses bow, their knees give way, but the bold riders rein them up with powerful arms, and they spring onward.

Onward, still onward!  “But what is that? who is this advancing directly in front of us?  Schnell, do you not know him?  That is Captain Zerbtz!”

Yes, that is Captain Zerbtz, who has been sent with his hussars to arrest the fugitives; but he is alone, and his men are not in sight.  He rode on just in front of them.  When near enough to be heard, he said, “Brothers, hasten!  Go to the left, pass that solitary house.  That is the boundary-line. [Footnote:  Trenck’s Memoirs.] My hussars have gone to the right.”

He turned his horse quickly, and dashed away.  The fugitives flew to the left, passed the lonely house, passed the white stone which marked the border, and now just a little farther on.

“Oh, comrade, let our horses breathe!  Let us rest and thank God, for we are saved—­we have passed the border!”

“We are free, free!” cried Trenck, with so loud a shout of joy that the mountains echoed with the happy sound, and reechoed back, “Free, free!”

CHAPTER XIV.

I will.

Swiftly, noiselessly, and unheeded the days of prosperity and peace passed away.  King Frederick has been happy; he does not even remember that more than two years of calm content and enjoyment have been granted him—­two years in which he dared lay aside his sword, and rest quietly upon his laurels.  This happy season had been rich in blessings; bringing its laughing tribute of perfumed roses and blooming myrtles.  Two years of such happiness seems almost miraculous in the life of a king.

Our happy days are ever uneventful.  True love is silent and retiring; it does not speak its rapture to the profane world, but hides itself in the shadows of holy solitude and starry night.  Let us not, then, lift the veil with which King Frederick had concealed his love.  These two years of bloom and fragrance shall pass by unquestioned.

When the sun is most lustrous, we turn away our eyes, lest they be blinded by his rays; but when clouds and darkness are around about us, we look up curiously and questioningly.  King Frederick’s sun is no longer clear and dazzling, dark clouds are passing over it; a shadow from these clouds has fallen upon the young and handsome face of the king, quenched the flashing glance of his eye, and checked the rapid beating of his heart.