Frederick the Great and His Family [17]
the king will imprison him for many long years, and I shall be responsible for this injustice."
Councillor Zetto's attentive ear heard every word; he stood near him like the evil one, and his piercing eyes rested upon the agitated countenance of Weingarten and read his thoughts.
"Have you not lived the life of a prisoner for many years?" asked Zetto, in a low, unnatural voice; "have you not always been a slave of poverty? Will you now, from weak pity, lose the opportunity of freeing yourself from this bondage? Ten thousand guilders is no fortune, but it may be the beginning of one--it may be the thread of Ariadne to lead you from the labyrinth of poverty to freedom and light; and who will thank you if you do not seize this thread--who recompense you for your generosity and magnanimity? If you tell it to the wise and cunning, they will laugh at you, and if the foolish hear it, they will not understand you. Every one is the moulder of his own happiness, and woe unto him who neglects to forge the iron while it is hot!"
Baron Weingarten felt each of these words. He did not know if they were uttered by human lips, or if they came from the depths of his own base soul.
"It is true, it is true!" he cried, in a frightened voice, "He is a fool who does not seize the hand of Fortune when tendered by the laughing goddess--a fool who does not break his fetters when he has the power to rend them. Come, gentlemen! We take the testimony, and when that is done, I will conduct you to our ambassador, Baron Puebla."
"Not so--when that is done, we shall depart with post-haste; you alone shall receive thanks and recompense. Now to work!"
CHAPTER VII.
THE KING AND WEINGARTEN.
The king paced his room hastily; he was very pale, his lip trembled, and his eyes sparkled angrily.
He suddenly remained standing before the Austrian secretary of legation, and gazed long and earnestly into his face, but his glance, before which so many had trembled, was sustained by the secretary with so quiet and innocent a countenance that it deceived even the king.
"I see that you are convinced of the truth of what you tell me." the king said at last. "You really believe that this madman has the intention of murdering me?"
"I am convinced of it, sire," replied Weingarten, humbly, "for I have the proof of his intention in my hand."
"The proof--what proof?"
"This paper which I allowed myself to hand to your majesty, and which you laid upon the table without reading."
"Ah, it is true! I forgot that in my excitement," said the king, mildly. "I beg you to read me the contents of this paper."
Baron Weingarten received the paper from the king with a respectful bow; his voice did not tremble in the least as he read the important words which refined malice and cruel avarice had written there-- words which, if literally interpreted, would fully condemn Trenck.
The words were:
"'In consequence of a bet, I pledge myself to be in Konigsberg the same day in which the King Frederick of Prussia, my cruel enemy and persecutor, shall arrive there. I shall go there to do, in the king's presence, that which no one has done before me, and which no one will do after me. If I do not succeed in accomplishing my purpose, or if I should be arrested, I have lost my bet, and shall owe Baron Waltz one hundred louis d'or, which must be paid him by the commissioners of the Trenck estate.'"
"'BARON FREDERICK VON TRENCK.'"
"And Trenck wrote this note himself?" said the king.
"If your majesty is acquainted with Trenck's handwriting, you will perhaps have the goodness to examine it yourself."
"I know his handwriting; give me the paper."
He took the paper and glanced over it searchingly. "It is his handwriting," he murmured; "but I will examine it again."
Speaking thus, he stepped hastily to his escritoire, and took from a small box several closely written yellow papers, and compared them with the document which Weingarten had given him.
Ah, how little did Trenck dream, as he wrote those letters, that they would witness against
Councillor Zetto's attentive ear heard every word; he stood near him like the evil one, and his piercing eyes rested upon the agitated countenance of Weingarten and read his thoughts.
"Have you not lived the life of a prisoner for many years?" asked Zetto, in a low, unnatural voice; "have you not always been a slave of poverty? Will you now, from weak pity, lose the opportunity of freeing yourself from this bondage? Ten thousand guilders is no fortune, but it may be the beginning of one--it may be the thread of Ariadne to lead you from the labyrinth of poverty to freedom and light; and who will thank you if you do not seize this thread--who recompense you for your generosity and magnanimity? If you tell it to the wise and cunning, they will laugh at you, and if the foolish hear it, they will not understand you. Every one is the moulder of his own happiness, and woe unto him who neglects to forge the iron while it is hot!"
Baron Weingarten felt each of these words. He did not know if they were uttered by human lips, or if they came from the depths of his own base soul.
"It is true, it is true!" he cried, in a frightened voice, "He is a fool who does not seize the hand of Fortune when tendered by the laughing goddess--a fool who does not break his fetters when he has the power to rend them. Come, gentlemen! We take the testimony, and when that is done, I will conduct you to our ambassador, Baron Puebla."
"Not so--when that is done, we shall depart with post-haste; you alone shall receive thanks and recompense. Now to work!"
CHAPTER VII.
THE KING AND WEINGARTEN.
The king paced his room hastily; he was very pale, his lip trembled, and his eyes sparkled angrily.
He suddenly remained standing before the Austrian secretary of legation, and gazed long and earnestly into his face, but his glance, before which so many had trembled, was sustained by the secretary with so quiet and innocent a countenance that it deceived even the king.
"I see that you are convinced of the truth of what you tell me." the king said at last. "You really believe that this madman has the intention of murdering me?"
"I am convinced of it, sire," replied Weingarten, humbly, "for I have the proof of his intention in my hand."
"The proof--what proof?"
"This paper which I allowed myself to hand to your majesty, and which you laid upon the table without reading."
"Ah, it is true! I forgot that in my excitement," said the king, mildly. "I beg you to read me the contents of this paper."
Baron Weingarten received the paper from the king with a respectful bow; his voice did not tremble in the least as he read the important words which refined malice and cruel avarice had written there-- words which, if literally interpreted, would fully condemn Trenck.
The words were:
"'In consequence of a bet, I pledge myself to be in Konigsberg the same day in which the King Frederick of Prussia, my cruel enemy and persecutor, shall arrive there. I shall go there to do, in the king's presence, that which no one has done before me, and which no one will do after me. If I do not succeed in accomplishing my purpose, or if I should be arrested, I have lost my bet, and shall owe Baron Waltz one hundred louis d'or, which must be paid him by the commissioners of the Trenck estate.'"
"'BARON FREDERICK VON TRENCK.'"
"And Trenck wrote this note himself?" said the king.
"If your majesty is acquainted with Trenck's handwriting, you will perhaps have the goodness to examine it yourself."
"I know his handwriting; give me the paper."
He took the paper and glanced over it searchingly. "It is his handwriting," he murmured; "but I will examine it again."
Speaking thus, he stepped hastily to his escritoire, and took from a small box several closely written yellow papers, and compared them with the document which Weingarten had given him.
Ah, how little did Trenck dream, as he wrote those letters, that they would witness against