uide at
length brought us back, at daybreak, once again to the town of Lettel.

She herself wept in pity at our fate, and I could only give her two
ducats for the danger she had run; but I bade her hope more in future;
and I afterwards sent for her to Vienna, in 1751, where I took great care
of her. She was about fifty years of age, and died my servant in
Hungary, some weeks before my unfortunate journey to Dantzic, where I
fell into my enemies' hands, and remained ten years a prisoner at
Magdeburg.

We had scarcely reached the wood, before, in the anguish of my heart, I
exclaimed to Schell, "Does not such a sister, my friend, deserve I should
fire her house over her head?" The wisdom of moderation, and calm
forbearance, was in Schell a virtue of the highest order; he was my
continual mentor; my guide, whenever my choleric temperament was disposed
to violence. I therefore honour his ashes; he deserved a better fate.

"Friend," said he, on this occasion, "reflect that your sister may be
innocent, may be withheld by her husband; besides, should the King
discover we had entered her doors, and she had not delivered us again
into his power, she might become as miserable as we were. Be more noble
minded, and think that even should your sister be wrong, the time may
come when her children may stand in need of your assistance, and you may
have the indescribable pleasure of returning good for evil."

I never shall forget this excellent advice, which in reality was a
prophecy. My rich brother-in-law died, and, during the Russian war, his
lands and houses were laid desolate and in ruins; and, nineteen years
afterwards, when released from my imprisonment at Magdeburg, I had an
opportunity of serving the children of my sister. Such are the turns of
fate; and thus do improbabilities become facts.

My sister justified her conduct; Schell had conjectured the truth; for
ten years after I was thus expelled her house, she showed, during my
imprisonment, she was really a sister. She was shamefully betrayed by
Weingarten, secretary to the Austrian ambassador at Berlin; lost a part
of her property, and at length her life fell an innocent sacrifice to her
brother.

This event, which is interwoven with my tragical history, will be related
hereafter: my heart bleeds, my very soul shudders, when I recollect this
dreadful scene.

I have not the means fully to recompense her children; and Weingarten,
the just object of vengeance, is