"In prison!"

Marie grew paler, and retreated, shuddering. The director continued: "In
a dark, damp prison at Spandau. The poor fellow has been there for two
months without air, light, or occupation, and his only society is his
own revengeful thoughts and angry love-complaints."

Marie gave one hollow moan, covering her corpse-like face with her
hands.

"In this abode of torture, in this dwelling of the damned, he must
remain ten long years, if death does not release him?"

"What did you say?" she groaned. "Ten long years? Have they condemned
him?"

"Yes, he was guilty of a great crime--eloping with a minor--who, with
the king's consent, and that of her parents, was betrothed to another.
Read the sentence of the court, which was forwarded to me as the head
of the college where Moritz was employed. See, here is the king's
signature, which affirms the sentence, rendering it legal, and here upon
the margin are the lines your father read."

Trembling, Marie perused the contents. "Ten years in the house of
correction!" she murmured. "On my account condemned to a living death!
No, no, it is impossible! It cannot be! Ten years of the best part of
life! He condemned as a criminal! I will go to the king. I will throw
myself at his feet, imploring for mercy. I am the guilty one--I alone!
They should judge me, and send me to the penitentiary! I will go to the
king! He must and will hear me!"

"He will not," sighed the director. "Listen to me, poor child! As I
heard the sentence, I felt it my duty to summon all my powers to rescue
Moritz, for I love him as a son, and had set my hopes upon him."

"I thank you for this kind word," said Marie, seizing the hand of the
old man, and pressing it to her lips.

"I went immediately to Minister von Herzberg, and, upon his advice,
as he explained to me the king might lighten his punishment, I betook
myself to Frederick's winter-quarters at Breslau."

"You noble, generous man, I shall love you for it as long as I live. Did
you speak with the king?"

"Yes, and every thing that my heart or mind could inspire, to excuse and
justify my unhappy friend, I have said--but all in vain. The king was
much embittered, because he had had the grace to grant him an audience,
and explain the impossibility of the fulfilment of his petition. I did
not cease begging and imploring, until I softened the generous heart of
the king."

"Has he pardoned Moritz?" Marie asked, with brightening hopes.

"U