try to sleep, to be calm--collect my strength for
to-morrow."

He lay down upon his miserable couch, and forced himself to be quiet
and silent--not to speak aloud to himself in his lonely cell, as he
was accustomed to do. Gradually the mad tension of his nerves relaxed,
gradually his eyes closed, and a soft, beneficial slumber came over him.

All was still in the dark cell; nothing was to be heard but the loud
breathing of the sleeper; but even in sleep, visions of life and liberty
rejoiced his heart--his face beamed with heavenly joy; he murmured
softly, "I am free!--free at last!"

The hours passed away, but Trenck still slumbered--profound stillness
surrounded him. The outer world had long since been awake--the sun
was up, and had sent a clear beam of its glory through the small,
thickly-barred window, even into the comfortless, desolate cell, and
changed the gloom of darkness into a faint twilight.

CHAPTER X. "TRENCK, ARE YOU THERE?"

Trenck slept. Sleep on, sleep on, unfortunate prisoner, for while asleep
you are free and joyous; when you awake, your happy dreams will vanish;
agony and despair will be your only companions.

Listen! there are steps in the passage; Trenck does not hear them--he
still sleeps. But, now a key is turned, the door is opened, and Trenck
springs from his pallet.

"Are you there, my friends? Is all ready?"

But he totters back with a fearful shriek, his eyes fixed despairingly
upon the door. There stood Von Bruckhausen, the prison commandant,
beside him several officers, behind them a crowd of soldiers.

This vision explained all to Trenck. It told him that his plan had
miscarried--that again all had been in vain. It told him that he must
remain what he was, a poor, wretched prisoner--more wretched than
before, for they would now find out that when alone he could release
himself from his chains. They would find his gold, which he had taken
from its hiding-place, and was now lying loosely upon the floor.

"I am lost!" said he, covering his face with his hands, and throwing
himself upon his bed.

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