ith a sort of despair into the carriage, and then,
without saying one word, he mounted and nodded to Trenck to follow him.

"And now let us be off," said he, shortly. "Coachman, drive on!"

He leaned back in the carriage, and with frowning brow he gazed up into
the heavens.

Slowly the carriage rolled through the sand, and it seemed as if the
panting, creeping horses shrank back from reaching their goal, the
boundary-line of the Wurtembergian dragoons. Trenck had followed his
companion's example, and leaned back in the carriage. Halber was gloomy
and filled with dark forebodings. Trenck was gay and unembarrassed; not
the slightest trace of care or mistrust could be read in his features.

They moved onward silently. The air was fresh and pure, the heavens
clear; but a dark cloud was round about the path of this dazzled,
blinded young officer. The birds sang of it on the green boughs, hut
Trenck would not understand them. They sang of liberty and gladness;
they called to him to follow their example, and fly far from the haunts
of men! The dark wood echoed Fly! fly! in powerful organ-tones, but
Trenck took them for the holy hymns of God's peaceful, sleeping world.
He heard not the trees, as with warning voices they bowed down and
murmured, Flee! flee! Come under our shadow, we will conceal you till
the danger be overpast' Flee! flee! Misfortune, like a cruel vulture,
is floating over you--already her fangs are extended to grasp you. The
desert winds, in wild haste rushed by and covering this poor child of
sorrow with clouds of dust, whispered in his ear, Fly! fly!--follow my
example and rush madly backward! Misfortune advances to meet you, and a
river of tears flows down the path you are blindly following. Turn
your head and flee, before this broad, deep stream overtakes you. The
creaking wheels seemed to sob out. Fly! fly! we are rolling you onward
to a dark and eternal prison! Do you not hear the clashing of chains? Do
you not see the open grave at your feet? These are your chains!--that is
your grave, already prepared for the living, glowing heart! Fly! then,
fly! You are yet free to choose. The clouds which swayed on over the
heavens, traced in purple and gold the warning words, Fly! fly! or you
look upon us for the last time! Upon the anxious face of Von Halber was
also to be seen, Fly now, it is high time! I see the end of the wood!--I
see the first houses of Boslin. Fly! then, fly!--it is high time! Alas,
Trenck'