"You are a hopeless infidel," said Trenck, angrily; "truly he who has changed his faith as often as you have, has no religion—not even the religion of love. But look! a light is shown, and the window is opened; that is the signal."
"You are right, that is the signal. Let us go," whispered Pollnitz; and he stepped hastily after the young officer.
And now they stood before the window on the ground floor, where the light had been seen for a moment. The window was half open.
"We have arrived," said Trenck, breathing heavily; "now, dear Pollnitz, farewell; it cannot certainly be your intention to go farther. The princess commissioned you to accompany me to the castle, but she did not intend you should enter with me. You must understand this. You boast that you are rich in experience, and will therefore readily comprehend that the presence of a third party is abhorrent to lovers. I know that you are too amiable to make your friends wretched. Farewell, Baron Pollnitz."
Trenck was in the act of springing into the window, but the strong arm of the master of ceremonies held him back.
"Let me enter first," said he, "and give me a little assistance. Your sophistical exposition of the words of our princess is entirely thrown away. She said to me, 'At eleven o'clock I will expect you and the Baron von Trenck in my room.' That is certainly explicit—as it appears to me, and needs no explanation. Lend me your arm."
With a heavy sigh, Trenck gave the required assistance, and then sprang lightly into the room.
"Give me your hand, and follow cautiously," said Pollnitz. "I know every step of the way, and can guard you against all possible accidents. I have tried this path often in former years, particularly when Peter the Great and his wife, with twenty ladies of her suite, occupied this wing of the castle."
"Hush!" said Trenck; "we have reached the top—onward, silently.
"Give me your hand, I will lead you."