o St.
Petersburg! That would, indeed, open a career to me, and bring me
exalted honor, and perhaps make that event possible which has heretofore
only floated before my dazzled sight like a dream-picture. Oh, Amelia!
noblest, most constant of women! could the dreams of our youth be
realized? If fate, softened by your tears and your heroic courage, would
at last unite you with him you have so fondly and so truly loved! Misled
by youth, presumption, and levity, I have sometimes trifled with my most
holy remembrances, sometimes seemed unfaithful; but my love to you has
never failed; I have worn it as a talisman about my heart. I have ever
worshipped you, I have ever hoped in you, and I will believe in you
always, if I doubt and despair of all others. Oh, Amelia! protecting
angel of my life! perhaps I may now return to you. I shall see you
again, look once more into your beauteous eyes, kneel humbly before you,
and receive absolution for my sins. They were but sins of the flesh, my
soul had no part in them. I will return to you, and live free, honored,
and happy by your side. I know this by the gracious reception of the
duke; I know it by the careless manner in which I am guarded. Before
the officer went to sleep he told me how securely a fugitive could hide
himself in these woods. I, however, have no necessity to hide myself; no
misfortune hovers over me, honor and gladness beckon me on. I will not
be so foolish as to fly; life opens to me new and flowery paths, greets
me with laughing hopes." [Footnote: "Frederick Trenck's Memoirs."]

Wholly occupied with these thoughts, Trenck leaned back in the carriage
and gave himself up to bright dreams of the future. Slowly the horses
moved through the deep, white sand, which made the roll of the wheels
noiseless, and effaced instantaneously the footprints of men. The
officer still slept, the coachman had dropped the reins, and nodded
here and there as if intoxicated. The wood was drear and empty; no
human dwelling, no human face was seen. Had Trenck wished to escape,
one spring from the low, open carriage; a hundred hasty steps would have
brought him to a thicket where discovery was impossible; the carriage
would have rolled on quietly, and when the sleepers aroused themselves,
they would have had no idea of the direction Trenck had taken. The
loose and rolling sand would not have retained his footprints, and the
whispering trees would not have betrayed him.

Trenck would not fly;