"Remember your oath, friend—kill me! I can go no farther. Here is my sword—thrust it into my bosom, and fly for your life!"
Trenck laughed gayly, took him in his arms as lovingly and tenderly as a mother. "Swing yourself on my back, friend, and clasp your arms about my neck, and hold fast. We will run a race with the reindeer."
"Trenck! Trenck! kill me Leave me here, and hasten on. Escape is impossible with such a burden."
"You are as light as a feather, and I will die with you rather than leave you."
Onward! onward! the sun sets and a heavy fog rises suddenly from out of the earth.
"Trenck, Trenck, do you not hear the alarm—guns thundering from the citadel? Our pursuers are after us."
"I hear the cannon," said Trenck, hastening on. "We have a half hour's start."
"A half hour will not suffice. No one has ever escaped from Glatz who did not have two hours' advance of pursuit. Leave me, Trenck, and save yourself."
"I will not leave you. I would rather die with you. Let us rest a moment, and gather breath."
Gently, carefully, he laid his friend upon the ground. Schnell suppressed his cries of pain, and Trenck restrained his panting breath—they rested and listened. The white, soft mist settled more thickly around them. The citadel and the town was entirely hidden from view.