self was destined to pass nine more years in
chains.

In spite of his fetters, Trenck was able in some miraculous way to get
on with his hole, but his long labour was rendered useless by the
circumstance that his new prison was finished sooner than he expected,
and he was removed into it hastily, being only able to conceal his
knife. He was now chained even more heavily than before, his two feet
being attached to a heavy ring fixed in the wall, another ring being
fastened round his body. From this ring was suspended a chain with a
thick iron bar, two feet long at the bottom, and to this his hands were
fastened. An iron collar was afterwards added to his instruments of
torture.

Besides torments of body, nothing was wanting which could work on his
mind. His prison was built between the trenches of the principal
rampart, and was of course very dark. It was likewise very damp, and, to
crown all, the name of 'Trenck' had been printed in red bricks on the
wall, above a tomb whose place was indicated by a death's head.

[Illustration]

Here again, he tells us, he excited the pity of his guards, who gave him
a bed and coverlet, and as much bread as he chose to eat; and, wonderful
as it may seem, his health did not suffer from all these horrors. As
soon as he got a little accustomed to his cramped position, he began to
use the knife he had left, and to cut through his chains. He next burst
the iron band, and after a long time severed his leg fetters, but in
such a way that he could put them on again, and no one be any the wiser.
Nothing is more common in the history of prisoners than this exploit,
and nothing is more astonishing, yet we meet with the fact again and
again in their memoirs and biographies. Trenck at any rate appears to
have accomplished the feat without much difficulty, though he found it
very hard to get his hand back into his handcuffs. After he had disposed
of his bonds, he began to saw at the doors leading to the gallery. These
were four in number, and all of wood, but when he arrived at the fourth,
his knife broke in two, and the courage that had upheld him for so many
years gave way. He opened his veins and lay down to die, when in his
despair he heard the voice of Gefhardt, the friendly sentinel from the
other prison. Hearing of Trenck's sad plight, he scaled the palisade,
and, we are told expressly, bound up his wounds, though we are _not_
told how he managed to enter the cell. Be that as it may, the