ith flowers over his
agonized breast. He had worked much; his feet were sore, and his heart
weary, from his walk through life. Why should he not lay himself down
in the grave to rest, to dream, or to sink in the arms of eternal,
dreamless sleep?

But this enticing thought he cast forcibly from him. He had not yet
lost all hope. His anticipations rose as the door opened, and the
servant handed him a large sealed letter, which the courier from
Leipsic had just brought. With hasty hand he seized the letter, and
motioned to Peter to retire. But as soon as he was alone, and was
about to break the seal, he drew back and hesitated. This letter
might, indeed, contain his salvation; but it might also contain his
death-sentence. He weighed it in his hand thoughtfully, and muttered
to himself: "It is as light as a feather, and yet its contents may
be heavy enough to hurl me down the abyss. But this is foolish," he
exclaimed aloud, drawing himself up proudly. "At least I will know my
fate, and see clearly into the future."

With a firm hand he broke the seal. But as he read, horror and dismay
were depicted in his countenance, and his whole frame shook.
Violently he flung the paper on the ground. "This, then, this is my
reward--reproaches, accusations, instead of thanks; scorn and
malice, instead of compassion. Reproaches, because I assisted them;
accusations, that I had offered to help them; only because without me
it would have been impossible for the King of Prussia to raise so much
money. Without my mediation, they say, they would not have paid, but
at the utmost would have had to endure a somewhat longer imprisonment,
which would have been more tolerable than the loss of such immense
sums."

He paced impatiently up and down, and as he came to the letter he
spurned it with his foot, like a poisonous adder, too loathsome to
touch. "I have deserved this punishment," cried he, laughing aloud
from inward pain.

"Who bade me love mankind? who bade me help them, instead of like
a highwayman falling upon and plundering them, when they were
defenceless? Fool that I was to give to life any other interpretation,
any other end!" He threw himself in a chair, and was soon buried in
thought. Once more he reviewed his whole past, and as he made up the
accounts of his life, he had to confess that the total of his hours
of happiness was but small, while that of his years of misery and toil
was heavy enough to bear him down. But there was s