the whole world with a daring, unheard-of undertaking, such as that of Ziethen, who had passed with his hussars, unknown, through the Austrian camp.  He had been nothing but a brave soldier—­he had done nothing more than many thousands.  He felt the strength and the courage to tear the very stars from heaven, that he might bind them as a diadem upon the brow of his beloved; to battle with the Titans, and plunge them into the abyss; to bear upon his shoulders the whole world, as Atlas did; he felt in himself the power, the daring, the will, and the ability of a hero.  But the opportunity failed him.

The deeds which he longed to accomplish did not lie in his path.  And thus, in spite of two victorious battles in which he had fought; in spite of the evident good-will of the king, he had remained what he was, the unknown, undistinguished Lieutenant von Trenck.  With a trembling heart he demanded of himself that the Princess Amelia would continue to love him if he returned to her as he had departed; if her proud, pure heart could stand that severest of all tests, the discovery that she had bestowed her love upon an ordinary, undistinguished man.

“No, no!” he cried, “I have not the courage to return thus to her.  If I cannot distinguish myself, I can die.  In the next battle I will conquer fame or death.  And if I fall, she will weep for me.  That would be a far happier fate than living to be forgotten or despised by her.”

He pressed Amelia’s letter to his lips, then placed it in his bosom, and opened the second letter.  Whilst he read, an expression of astonishment appeared on his features, and a smile, half gay, half scornful, played upon his full, fresh lips.  Soon, however, his features grew earnest, and a dark shadow clouded his youthful brow.

“If I had enemies they could destroy me with this letter,” he said, in a low voice.  “It could, wild and silly as it is, be made to represent me as a traitor.  Perhaps it is a pitfall which has been prepared for me.  Is it possible that the authorities should have allowed this letter, coming evidently from inimical Austria, to pass unread through their hands?  I will go immediately to my colonel, and show him this letter,” said Trenck.  “He can then inform the king of it if he think it necessary.  Concealment might be more dangerous for me than an open acknowledgment.”

And placing this second letter also in his bosom, Trenck proceeded to the tent of Colonel von Jaschinsky, who welcomed him with unusual warmth.

“Colonel,” said Trenck, “do you remember the singular letter which I received six months since from my cousin, Baron von Trenck, colonel of the pandours?”

“Ah, you mean that letter in which he invites you to come to Austria, and promised, should you do so, to make you his sole heir?”

“Yes, that is the letter I mean.  I informed you of it at the time and asked your advice.”

“What advice did I give you?”