"'It is evident to me,' said he, 'that the end of the world draws near. Manifest signs declare it. The Antichrist is born, and they say he is now in Prussia: his name is Voltaire. I do not know this Voltaire, and the Antichrist may be some one else, for he is to bear a name commencing with a W., and not a V. This name, too, will be German. While waiting for the miracles which are about to be accomplished, God, who apparently mingles in nothing, who is eternal silence, creates among us beings of a nature superior to our own, both for good and evil—angels and demons—hidden powers. The latter are to test the just, the former to ensure their triumph. The contest between the great powers has already begun. The king of evil, the father of ignorance and crime, defends himself in vain. The archangels have bent the bow of science and of truth, and their arrows have pierced the corslet of Satan. Satan roars and struggles, but soon will abandon falsehood, lose his venom, and, instead of the impure blood of reptiles, will feel the dew of pardon circulate through his veins. This is the clear and certain explanation of all that is incomprehensible and terrible in the world. Good and evil contend in higher regions which are unattainable to men. Victory and defeat soar above us, without its being possible for us to fix them. Frederick of Prussia attributed to the power of his arms success which fate alone granted him, as it exalted or depressed according to its hidden purpose. Yes; I say it is clear that men are ignorant of what occurs on earth. They see impiety arm itself against fate, and vice versa. They suffer oppression, misery, and all the scourges of discord, without their prayers being heard, without the intervention of the miracles of any religion. They now understand nothing, they complain they know not why. They walk blindfolded on the brink of a precipice. To this the Invisibles impel them, though none know if their mission be of God or the Devil, as at the commencement of Christianity, Simon, the magician, seemed to many a being divine and powerful as Christ. I tell you all prodigies are of God, for Satan can achieve none without permission being granted him, and that among those called Invisibles, some act by direct light from the Holy Spirit, while to others the light comes through a cloud, and they do good, fatally thinking that they do evil.'
"'This is a very abstract explanation, dear Gottlieb. Is it Jacob Boehm's or your own?"
"'His, if it be your pleasure to understand him so—mine, if his inspiration did not suggest it to me.'
"'Well, Gottlieb, I am no wiser after all than I was, for I do not know if the Invisibles be good or bad angels to me.
"May 12.—Miracles really begin, and my fate seems to be in the hands of the Invisibles. I will, like Gottlieb, ask if they be of God or of Satan? To-day Gottlieb was called by the sentinel on duty over the esplanade, and his post is on the little bastion at its end. This sentinel, Gottlieb says, is an invisible spirit. The proof is, that Gottlieb knows all the soldiers, and talks readily with them, when they amuse themselves by ordering a pair of shoes, and then he appeared to him of superhuman stature and undefinable expression.— 'Gottlieb,' said he, speaking in a low tone, 'Porporina must be delivered in the course of three nights. This may be, if you can take the keys of her cell from under your mother's pillow, and bring them hither to the extremity of the esplanade. I will take charge of the rest. Tell her to be ready, and remember, if you be deficient in prudence and zeal, you and I are both lost.'
"This is the state of things. The news has made me ill with emotion. I had a fever all night, and again heard the fantastic violin. To escape from this prison, to escape from the terrors with which Mayer inspires me—Ah! to do that, I am ready to risk my life. What, though, will result to Gottlieb and the sentinel from my flight? The latter, though he devotes himself so generously, I do not know. His unknown accomplices, too, are about to assume a new burden in me. I tremble, I hesitate, I am entirely undecided. I write to you without thinking to prepare for my flight. No, I will not escape—at least until I am certain of the fate of my friends and protectors. Gottlieb is resolved on all. When I ask him if he is not afraid, he tells me that he would suffer martyrdom gladly for me. When I add that perhaps he will regret seeing me no more, he says that is his affair, and that I do not know what he means to do. All this, too, seems to him an order of heaven, and he obeys the unknown power which impels him, without reflection. I read the notes of the Invisibles with care, and I am afraid the information of the sentinel is the snare of which I should be afraid. I have yet forty-eight hours before me. If Mayer comes again, I will risk all. If he continues to forget me, and I have no better assurance than the warning of this stranger, I will remain.
"May 13.—I trust myself to fate, to Providence, which has sent me unhoped-for aid. I go, and rely on the powerful arm which covers me with its ægis. As I walked this morning on the esplanade, hoping to receive some new explanation from the spirits that hover around me, I looked at the bastion, where the sentinel is. I saw two, one on guard, with his arms shouldered, and another going and coming, as if he looked for something. The height of the latter attracted my attention, for it seemed to me that he was not a stranger to me. I could only look stealthily at him, for at every turn of the walk I had to turn my back. Finally, as I was walking towards him, he approached me, and though the glacis was higher than where I stood, I knew him at once. I had nearly cried aloud. It was Karl, the Bohemian, the deserter, who was saved from Mayer, in the Boehmer-wald, whom I afterwards saw at Roswald, in Moravia, at Count Hoditz's, and who sacrificed to me a terrible revenge. He is devoted to me, body and soul, and his stern face, broad nose, red brow, with eyes of tin, to-day seemed as beautiful to me as the angel Gabriel.
"'That is he,' said Gottlieb, in a low tone; 'he is an emissary of the Invisibles. He is your liberator, and will take you hence to-morrow night.' My heart beat so violently that I could scarcely contain myself; tears of joy escaped from my eyes. To conceal my emotion from the other sentinel I approached the parapet which was farthest from the bastion, and pretended to look at the grass in the fosse. I saw Karl and Gottlieb exchange words, which I conld not entirely interpret. After a short time Gottlieb came to me, and said, placidly: 'He will soon come down. He will come to our house and drink a bottle of wine. Pretend not to see him. My father is gone out. While my mother goes to the canteen for wine, you will come to the kitchen, as if you were about to go back, and then you can speak to him for a moment.'
"When Karl had spoken for a short time to Madame Swartz, who does not disdain the entertainment of the veterans of the citadel at their own expense, I saw Gottlieb on the threshold. I went in, and was alone with Karl. Gottlieb had gone with his mother to the canteen. Poor child! it seems that friendship has at once revealed to him the cunning and pretence required in real life. He does intentionally a thousand awkward things—lets the bottle fall, makes his mother angry, and delays her long enough for me to have some conversation with my saviour.
"'Signora,' said Karl, 'here I am, and here, too, are you. I was taken by the recruiters. Such was my fate. The king, however, recognised and pardoned me, perhaps for your sake. He also permitted me to go away, and promised me money, which, by-the-bye, he did not give me. I went to a famous sorcerer, to find out how I could best serve you. The sorcerer sent me to Prince Henry, and Prince Henry sent me to Spandau. Around us are powerful people, whom I do not know, but who toil for us. They spare neither money nor exertions, I assure you. Now all is ready. To-morrow evening the doors will be open before you. All who could prevent our escape have been won. All except the Swartzes are in our interests. To-morrow they will sleep more soundly than usual, and when they awake you will be far away. We will take Gottlieb, who is anxious to go, with us. I will go with you, and will risk nothing, for all has been foreseen. Be ready, signora. And now go to the esplanade, in order that the old woman may not find us here.' I uttered my gratitude to Karl in tears alone, and hurried away to hide my emotion from the inquisitorial glance of Vrau Swartz.