She was alarmed at seeing me, not knowing that I had escaped from Glatz, and ran to inform her husband, but did not return.
A quarter of an hour after the good Mary came weeping, and told us her master commanded us to quit the premises instantly, or he should be obliged to have us arrested, and delivered up as prisoners. My sister’s husband forcibly detained her, and I saw her no more.
What my feelings must be, at such a moment, let the reader imagine. I was too proud, too enraged, to ask money; I furiously left the house, uttering a thousand menaces against its inhabitants, while the kind-hearted Mary, still weeping, slipped three ducats into my hand, which I accepted.
And, now behold us once more in the wood, which was not above a hundred paces from the house, half dead with hunger and fatigue, not daring to enter any habitation, while in the states of Brandenburg, and dragging our weary steps all night through snow and rain, until our guide at length brought us back, at daybreak, once again to the town of Lettel.
She herself wept in pity at our fate, and I could only give her two ducats for the danger she had run; but I bade her hope more in future; and I afterwards sent for her to Vienna, in 1751, where I took great care of her. She was about fifty years of age, and died my servant in Hungary, some weeks before my unfortunate journey to Dantzic, where I fell into my enemies’ hands, and remained ten years a prisoner at Magdeburg.
We had scarcely reached the wood, before, in the anguish of my heart, I exclaimed to Schell, “Does not such a sister, my friend, deserve I should fire her house over her head?” The wisdom of moderation, and calm forbearance, was in Schell a virtue of the highest order; he was my continual mentor; my guide, whenever my choleric temperament was disposed to violence. I therefore honour his ashes; he deserved a better fate.
“Friend,” said he, on this occasion, “reflect that your sister may be innocent, may be withheld by her husband; besides, should the King discover we had entered her doors, and she had not delivered us again into his power, she might become as miserable as we were. Be more noble minded, and think that even should your sister be wrong, the time may come when her children may stand in need of your assistance, and you may have the indescribable pleasure of returning good for evil.”
I never shall forget this excellent advice, which in reality was a prophecy. My rich brother-in-law died, and, during the Russian war, his lands and houses were laid desolate and in ruins; and, nineteen years afterwards, when released from my imprisonment at Magdeburg, I had an opportunity of serving the children of my sister. Such are the turns of fate; and thus do improbabilities become facts.
My sister justified her conduct; Schell had conjectured the truth; for ten years after I was thus expelled her house, she showed, during my imprisonment, she was really a sister. She was shamefully betrayed by Weingarten, secretary to the Austrian ambassador at Berlin; lost a part of her property, and at length her life fell an innocent sacrifice to her brother.
This event, which is interwoven with my tragical history, will be related hereafter: my heart bleeds, my very soul shudders, when I recollect this dreadful scene.