A malignant smile brightened up Von Bruckhausen's disagreeable countenance, as his eye took in the broken chains, the glittering gold, and the despairing prisoner. He then ordered the soldiers to raise the chains and fasten them on him.
Trenck made no resistance. He suffered them quietly to adjust his iron belt, to fasten the chain around his neck. He seemed insensible to all that was passing. This fearful blow had annihilated him; and the giant who, but a short time before, had thought to conquer the world, was now a weak, trembling, defenceless child. When he was ordered to rise to have the chains annexed to his iron girdle, and fastened to the wall, he rose at once, and stretched out his hand for the manacles. Now the commandant dared approach Trenck; he had no fear of the chained lion, he could jeer at and mock without danger. He did it with the wrath of a soul hard and pitiless; with the deep, unutterable hate of an implacable enemy; for Trenck was his enemy, his much-feared enemy; he drove sleep from his eyes--he followed him in his dreams. Often at midnight Von Bruckhausen rose in terror from his couch, because he dreamed that Trenck had escaped, and that he must now take his place in that dark, fearful tomb. Surrounded by gay companions, he would turn pale and shudder at the thought of Trenck's escaping--Trenck, whose fearful cell was then destined to be his. This constant fear and anxiety caused the commandant to see in Trenck not the king's prisoner, but his own personal enemy, with whom he must do battle to his utmost strength, with all the wrath and fear of a timid soul. With a cold, malicious smile he informed him that his plot had been discovered, that his mad plan was known; he had wished to take the fortress of Magdeburg and place upon it the Austrian flag. With a jeering smile he held up to him the letter Trenck had sent to his friend in Vienna, in which, without mentioning names, he had made a slight sketch of his plan.
"Will you deny that you wrote this letter?" cried the commandant, in a threatening voice.
Trenck did not answer. His head was bowed upon his breast; he was gazing down in silence.
"You will be forced to name your accomplices," cried the enraged commandant; "there is no palliation for a traitor, and if you do not name them at once, I shall subject you to the lash."
An unearthly yell issued from Trenck's pale lips, and as he raised his head, his countenance was expressive of such wild, such terrible rage, that Bruckhausen drew away from him in affright. Trenck had awakened from his lethargy; he had found again his strength and energy, he was Trenck once more--the Trenck feared by Von Bruckhausen, though lying in chains, the Trenck whom nothing could bend, nothing discourage.
"He who dares to whip me shall die," said he, gazing wildly at the commandant. "With my nails, with my teeth, will I kill him."
"Name your accomplices!" cried Bruckhausen, stamping upon the ground in his rage.
It was Trenck who now laughed. "Ah, you think to intimidate me with your angry voice," said he. "You think your word has power to make me disclose that which I wish to keep secret. You think I will betray my friends, do you? Learn what a poor, weak, incapable human being you are, for not one of the things you wish shall occur. No, I shall not be so contemptible as to betray my friends. Were I to do so, then were I a traitor deserving of this wretched cell, of these fearful chains, for I would then be a stranger to the first, the holiest virtue, gratitude.
But no, I will not. I was innocent when these chains were put on me--innocent I will remain."
"Innocent!" cried the commandant; "you who wished to deliver to the enemy a fortress of your sovereign! You call yourself innocent?"
Trenck raised himself from his bed, and threw back his head proudly.
"I am no longer a subject of the King of Prussia," said he; "he is no longer my sovereign. Many years ago I was thrown into prison at Glatz without court-martial or trial. When I escaped, all my property was confiscated. If I had not sought my bread elsewhere, I would have starved to death, or gone to ruin. Maria Theresa made me a captain in her army--to her I gave my allegiance. She alone is my sovereign. I owe no duty to the King of Prussia--he condemned me unheard--by one act he deprived me of bread, honor, country, and freedom. He had me thrown into prison, and fettered like some fearful criminal. He has degraded me to an animal that lies grovelling in his cage, and who only lives to eat, who only eats to live. I do not speak to you, sir commandant," continued he--"I speak, soldiers, to you, who were once my comrades in arms. I would not have you call Trenck a traitor. Look at me; see what the king has made of me; and then tell me, was I not justified in fleeing from these tortures? Even if Magdeburg had been stormed, and thousands of lives lost, would you have called me a traitor? Am I a traitor because I strive to conquer for myself what you, what every man, receives from God as his holy right--my freedom?" While he spoke, his pale, wan countenance beamed with inspiration.
The soldiers were struck and touched with it--their low murmurs of applause taught the commandant that he had committed a mistake in having so many witnesses to his conversation with the universally pitied and admired prisoner.
"You will not name your accomplices?" said he.
"No," said Trenck, "I will not betray my friends. And what good would it do you to know their names? You would punish them, and would thereby sow dragons' teeth from which new friends would rise for me. For undeserved misfortune, and unmerited reproach, make for us friends in heaven and on earth. Look there, sir commandant--look there at your soldiers. They came here indifferent to me--they leave as my friends; and if they can do no more, they will pray for me."
"Enough! enough of this," cried the commandant. "Be silent! And you,"
speaking to the soldiers, "get out of here! Send the blacksmith to solder these chains at once. Go into the second passage--I want no one but the blacksmith."
The soldiers withdrew, and the smith entered with his hot coals, his glowing iron, and his panful of boiling lead. The commandant leaned against the prison-door gazing at the smith; Trenck was looking eagerly at the ceiling of his cell watching the shadows thrown there by the glowing coals.
"It is the ignus fatuus of my freedom," said he, with a weary smile. "It is the fourth time they have danced on this ceiling--it is the fourth time my chains have been forged. But I tell you, commandant, I will break them again, and the shadows flickering on these walls will be changed to a glorious sun of freedom--it will illuminate my path so that I can escape from this dungeon, in which I will leave nothing but my curse for you my cruel keeper."
"You have not, then, despaired?" said the commandant, with a cold smile.
"You will still attempt to escape?"
Trenck fixed his keen, sparkling eyes upon Von Bruckhausen, and stretching out his left arm to the smith, he said: "Listen, sir commandant, to what I have to say to you, and may my words creep like deadly poison through your veins! Hear me; as soon as you have left my cell--as soon as that door has closed behind you--I will commence a new plan of escape. You have thrown me in a cell under the earth. The floor in my other cell was of wood--I cut my way through it. This is of stone--I shall remove it. You come daily and search my room to see if there is not some hole or some instrument hidden by which I might effect my escape. Nevertheless I shall escape. God created the mole, and of it I will learn how to burrow in the ground, and thus I will escape. You will see that I have no instruments, no weapons, but God gave me what He gave the mole--He gave my fingers nails, and my mouth teeth; and if there is no other way, I will make my escape by them."
"It is certainly very kind of you to inform me of all this," cried the commandant. "Be assured I shall not forget your words. I shall accommodate myself to them. You seek to escape--I seek to detain you here. I am convinced I shall find some means of assuring myself every quarter of an hour that your nails and teeth have not freed you. The smith's work I see is done, and we dare entertain the hope that for the present you will remain with us. Or perhaps you mean to bite your chains in two as soon as I leave?"
"God gave Samson strength to crush with his arms the temple columns,"
said Trenck, gazing at the blacksmith, who was now leaving the room.
"See, the ignis fatuus has disappeared from my cell, the sun will soon shine."
"Trenck, be reasonable," said Von Bruckhausen, in an entreating tone.
"Do not increase your misery--do not force me to be more cruel to you. Promise to make no more attempts to escape, and you shall not be punished for your treacherous plot!"
Trenck laughed aloud. "You promise not to punish me. How could you accomplish it? Has not your cruelty bound me in irons, in chains, whose invention can only be attributed to the devil? Do I not live in the deepest, most forlorn cell in the fortress? Is not my nourishment bread and water? Do you not condemn me to pass my days in idleness, my nights in fearful darkness? What more could you do to me?--how could you punish any new attempt to escape? No, no, sir commandant; as soon as that door has closed on you, the mole will commence to burrow, and some day, in spite of all your care, he will escape."
"That is your last word!" cried Von Bruckhausen, infuriated. "You will not promise to abandon these idle attempts at escape? You will not name your accomplices?"
"No! and again no!"
"Well, then, farewell. You shall remember this hour, and I promise you, you shall regret it."
Throwing a fearful look of malignant wrath at Trenck, who was leaning against his pallet, laughing at his rage, the commandant left the prison. The iron door closed slowly; the firm, even tread of the disappearing soldiers was audible, then all was quiet.
A death-like stillness reigned in the prisoner's cell; no sound of life disturbed the fearful quiet. Trenck shuddered; a feeling of inexpressible woe, of inconsolable despair came over him. He could now yield to it, no one was present to hear his misery and wretchedness. He need not now suppress the sighs and groans that had almost choked him; he could give the tears, welling to his eyes like burning fire, full vent; he could cool his feverish brow upon the stone floor, in the agony of his soul. As a man trembles at the thought of death, Trenck trembled at the thought of life. He knew not how long he had sighed, and wept, and groaned. For him there was no time, no hour, no night--it was all merged into one fearful day. But still he experienced some hours of pleasure and joy. These were the hours of sleep, the hours of dreams.
Happier than many a king, than many powerful rulers and rich nobles upon their silken couches, was this prisoner upon his hard pallet. He could sleep--his spirit, busy during the day in forming plans for his escape, needed and found the rest of sleep; his body needed the refreshment and received it.
Yes, he could sleep. Men were hard and cruel to him, but God had not deserted him, for at night He sent an angel to his cell who consoled and refreshed him. It was the angel of slumber--when night came, after all his sorrow, his agony, his despair endured during the day, the consoling angel came and took his seat by the wretched prisoner. This night he kissed his eyes, he laid his soft wings on the prisoner's wounded heart, he whispered glorious dreams of the future into his ear. A beautiful smile, seldom seen when he was awake, now rested upon his lips.
Keep quiet, ye guards, without there--keep quiet, the prisoner sleeps; the sleep of man is sacred, and more sacred than all else is the sleep of the unfortunate. Do not disturb him--pass the door stealthily. Be still, be still! the prisoner sleeps--reverence his rest.
This stillness was now broken by a loud cry.
"Trenck, Trenck!" cried a thundering voice--"Trenck, are you asleep?"
He woke from his pleasant dreams and rose in terror from his bed. He thought he had heard the trumpets of the judgment-day, and listened eagerly for the renewing of the sound.
And again the cry resounded through his cell. "Trenck, are you there?"
With a wild fear he raised his hand to his burning brow.
"Am I mad?" murmured he; "I hear a voice in my brain calling me; a voice--"
The bolts were pushed back, and Commandant Von Bruckhausen, accompanied by a soldier, with a burning torch, appeared on the threshold.
"Why did you not answer, Trenck?" said he.
"Answer--answer what?"
"The sentinel's call. As you swore to me you would make new attempts to escape, I was compelled to make arrangements to prevent your succeeding.
The guards at your door are commanded to call you every quarter of an hour during the night. If you do not answer at once, they will enter your cell to convince themselves of your presence. Accommodate yourself to this, Trenck. We shall now see if you are able to free yourself with your nails and teeth!"
He left the room, the door was closed. It was night once more in the prisoner's cell--but he did not sleep. He sat upon his pallet and asked himself if what had passed was true, or if it was not some wild and fearful dream.
"No, no, it cannot be true; they could not rob me of my last and only pleasure--my sleep! soft, balmy sleep!"
But listen. There is a voice again. "Trenck, Trenck, are you there?"
He answered by a fearful yell, and sprang from his bed, trembling with terror. It was no dream!
"It is true!--they will let me sleep no more. Cowardly thieves! may God curse as I curse you. May He have no pity with you, who have none with me! Ah, you cruel men, you increase my misery a thousandfold. You murder my sleep. God's curse upon you!"