‘“No, no,” cried Lydchen; “you are not like our enemies. You wish us naught of evil; your heart is with the struggle of a brave people, who fight but for their homes and Fatherland. Be of us, then; declare that you are with us. Oh, do this, and these will be your brothers and I your sister; ay, more than sister ever was.”
‘“It cannot be; no, never,” said I; “it is not when life is in the balance that fealty can change.”
‘With difficulty I freed myself from the clasp of her arms, for in her grief she had thrown herself at my feet, when suddenly we heard the deep accents of the aged priest, as he stood upon the steps of the altar, and commanded silence. His tones were those of severity and sternness, and I could mark that not a murmur was raised as he continued.
‘“You are safe,” whispered Lydchen; “till to-morrow you are safe; before that you must be far away.”
‘The respite of the priest was merely to give me time to prepare for death, which it was decreed I should suffer the following morning in the Platz of the village.
‘Scarcely had evening begun to fall when Lydchen approached my bed and deposited a small bundle upon it, whispering gently, “Lose no time; put on these clothes, and wait for my return.”
‘The little chapelry where I lay communicated by a small door with the dwelling of the priest, and by her passing through this I saw that the father was himself conniving at the plan of my escape. By the imperfect glimmer of the fading day I could perceive that they were her brother’s clothes she had brought me; the jacket was yet stained with his blood. I was long in equipping myself, with my single arm, and I heard her voice more than once calling to me to hasten, ere I was ready.
‘At length I arose, and passing through the door entered the priest’s house, where Lydchen, dressed in hat and mantle, stood ready for the road. As I endeavoured to remonstrate she pressed her hand on my mouth, and walking on tiptoe led me forward; we emerged into a little garden, crossing which she opened a wicket that led into the road. There a peasant was in waiting, who carried a small bundle on his shoulder, and was armed with the long staff used in mountain travelling. Again, making a sign for me to be silent, she moved on before me, and soon turning off the road entered a foot-track in the mountain. The fresh breeze of the night and the sense of liberty nerved me to exertion, and I walked on till day was breaking. Our path generally lay in a descending direction, and I felt little fatigue, when at sunrise Lydchen told me that we might rest for some hours, as our guide could now detect the approach of any party for miles round, and provide for our concealment. No pursuit, however, was undertaken in that direction, the peasants in all likelihood deeming that I would turn my steps towards Lahn, where a strong French garrison was stationed; whereas we were proceeding in the direction of Saltzbourg, the very longest and therefore the least likely route through the Tyrol.
‘Day succeeded day, and on we went. Not one living thing did we meet on our lonely path. Already our little stock of provisions was falling low, when we came in sight of the hamlet of Altendorf, only a single day’s march from the lake of Saltzbourg. The village, though high in the mountain, lay exactly beneath us as we went, and from the height we stood on we could see the little streets of the town and its market-place like a map below us. Scarcely had the guide thrown his eyes downwards than he stopped short, and pointing to the town, cried out “The French! the French!” and true enough, a large party of infantry were bivouacked in the streets, and several horses were picketed in the gardens about. While the peasant crept cautiously forward to inspect the place nearer, I stood beside Lydchen, who, with her hands pressed closely on her face, spoke not a word.
‘“We part here!” said she, with a strong, full accent, as though determined to let no weakness appear in her words.