A maidservant came to the door, whom I knew; her name was Mary, and she had been born and brought up in my father's house. She was terrified at seeing a sturdy fellow in a beggar's dress; which perceiving, I asked, "Molly, do not you know me?" She answered, "No;" and I then discovered myself to her. I asked whether my brother-in-law was at home. Mary replied, "Yes; but he is sick in bed." "Tell my sister, then," said I, "that I am here." She showed me into a room, and my sister presently came.
She was alarmed at seeing me, not knowing that I had escaped from Glatz, and ran to inform her husband, but did not return.
A quarter of an hour after the good Mary came weeping, and told us her master commanded us to quit the premises instantly, or he should be obliged to have us arrested, and delivered up as prisoners. My sister's husband forcibly detained her, and I saw her no more.
What my feelings must be, at such a moment, let the reader imagine.
I was too proud, too enraged, to ask money; I furiously left the house, uttering a thousand menaces against its inhabitants, while the kind-hearted Mary, still weeping, slipped three ducats into my hand, which I accepted.
And, now behold us once more in the wood, which was not above a hundred paces from the house, half dead with hunger and fatigue, not daring to enter any habitation, while in the states of Brandenburg, and dragging our weary steps all night through snow and rain, until our guide at length brought us back, at daybreak, once again to the town of Lettel.
She herself wept in pity at our fate, and I could only give her two ducats for the danger she had run; but I bade her hope more in future; and I afterwards sent for her to Vienna, in 1751, where Itook great care of her. She was about fifty years of age, and died my servant in Hungary, some weeks before my unfortunate journey to Dantzic, where I fell into my enemies' hands, and remained ten years a prisoner at Magdeburg.
We had scarcely reached the wood, before, in the anguish of my heart, I exclaimed to Schell, "Does not such a sister, my friend, deserve I should fire her house over her head?" The wisdom of moderation, and calm forbearance, was in Schell a virtue of the highest order; he was my continual mentor; my guide, whenever my choleric temperament was disposed to violence. I therefore honour his ashes; he deserved a better fate.
"Friend," said he, on this occasion, "reflect that your sister may be innocent, may be withheld by her husband; besides, should the King discover we had entered her doors, and she had not delivered us again into his power, she might become as miserable as we were. Be more noble minded, and think that even should your sister be wrong, the time may come when her children may stand in need of your assistance, and you may have the indescribable pleasure of returning good for evil."I never shall forget this excellent advice, which in reality was a prophecy. My rich brother-in-law died, and, during the Russian war, his lands and houses were laid desolate and in ruins; and, nineteen years afterwards, when released from my imprisonment at Magdeburg, Ihad an opportunity of serving the children of my sister. Such are the turns of fate; and thus do improbabilities become facts.
My sister justified her conduct; Schell had conjectured the truth;for ten years after I was thus expelled her house, she showed, during my imprisonment, she was really a sister. She was shamefully betrayed by Weingarten, secretary to the Austrian ambassador at Berlin; lost a part of her property, and at length her life fell an innocent sacrifice to her brother.
This event, which is interwoven with my tragical history, will be related hereafter: my heart bleeds, my very soul shudders, when Irecollect this dreadful scene.
I have not the means fully to recompense her children; and Weingarten, the just object of vengeance, is long since in the grave; for did he exist, the earth should not hide him from my sword.
I shall now continue my journal: deceived in the aid I expected, Iwas obliged to change my plan, and go to my mother, who lived in Prussia, nine miles beyond Konigsberg.
Feb. 28.--We continued, tired, anxious, and distressed, at Lettel.
March 1.--We went three miles to Pleese, and on the 2nd, a mile and a half farther to Meseritz.
March 3.--Through Wersebaum to Birnbaum, three miles.
March 4.--Through Zircke, Wruneck, Obestchow, to Stubnitz, seven miles, in one day, three of which we had the good fortune to ride.
March 5.--Three miles to Rogosen, where we arrived without so much as a heller to pay our lodgings. The Jew innkeeper drove us out of his house; we were obliged to wander all night, and at break of day found we had strayed two miles out of the road.
We entered a peasant's cottage, where an old woman was drawing bread hot out of the oven. We had no money to offer, and I felt, at this moment, the possibility even of committing murder, for a morsel of bread, to satisfy the intolerable cravings of hunger. Shuddering, with torment inexpressible, at the thought, I hastened out of the door, and we walked on two miles more to Wongrofze.
Here I sold my musket for a ducat, which had procured us many a meal: such was the extremity of our distress. We then satiated our appetites, after having been forty hours without food or sleep, and having travelled ten miles in sleet and snow.
March 6.--We rested, and came, on the 7th, through Genin, to a village in the forest, four miles.
Here we fell in with a gang of gipsies (or rather banditti)amounting to four hundred men, who dragged me to their camp. They were mostly French and Prussian deserters, and thinking me their equal, would force me to become one of their hand. But, venturing to tell my story to their leader, he presented me with a crown, gave us a small provision of bread and meat, and suffered us to depart in peace, after having been four and twenty hours in their company.
March 9.--We proceeded to Lapuschin, three miles and a half; and the 10th to Thorn, four miles.
