Baron de Trenck already had endured a year of arbitrary imprisonment in the fortress of Glatz, ignorant alike of the cause of his detention or the length of time which he was destined to spend in captivity.  
During the early part of the month of September, Major Doo, aide to the governor of the prison of Glatz, entered the prisoner’s apartment for a domiciliary visit, accompanied by an adjutant and the officer of the guard.
 
It was noon. The excessive heat of the dying summer had grown almost unsupportable in the tower chamber where Baron de Trenck was confined. Half empty flagons were scattered among the books which littered his table, but the repeated draughts in which the prisoner had sought refreshment had only served to add to his ever-increasing exasperation.
 
The major ransacked every nook and corner of the prisoner’s chamber and the interior of such pieces of furniture as might afford a possible hiding-place. Remarking the annoyance which this investigation caused the baron, Doo said arrogantly:
 
“The general has issued his orders, and it is a matter of little consequence to him whether or not they displease you. Your attempts to escape have greatly incensed him against you.”
 
“And I,” retorted Trenck, with like hauteur, “am equally indifferent to your general’s displeasure. I shall continue to dispose of my time as may best please me.”
 
“Good!” replied the major, “but in your own interests you would be wiser to philosophize with your books, and seek the key to the sciences, rather than that of the fortress.”
 
“I do not need your advice, major,” the baron observed, with sovereign disdain.
 
“You may perhaps repent later that you did not heed it. Your attempts to escape have angered even the king, and it is impossible to say just how far his severity toward you may go.”
 
“But, great heavens! when I am deprived of my liberty without cause, have I not the right to endeavor to regain it?”
 
“They do not see the matter in that light in Berlin. As a matter of fact this spirit of revolt against your sovereign only serves to greatly aggravate your crime.”
 
“My crime!” Trenck exclaimed, trembling with anger.
 
His glance fell upon the major’s sword and the thought came to him to tear it from his side and pierce his throat with it. But in the same instant it occurred to him that he might rather profit by the situation. Pale and trembling as he was, he retained sufficient self-control to modify the expression of his countenance and the tone of his voice, though his glance remained fixed upon the sword.
 
“Major,” he said, “no one can be called a criminal until he has been so adjudged by the courts. Happily a man’s honor does not depend upon the inconsequent, malicious opinion of others. On the contrary blame should attach to him who condemns the accused without a hearing. No constituted power, whether that of king or judge, has yet convicted me of any culpable action. Apart from the courtesy which should be observed between officers of the same rank, you, out of simple justice, should refrain front such an accusation.”
 
“Every one knows,” retorted Boo, “that you entered into relations with the enemy.”
 
“I? Great God!”
 
“Do you not consider the Pandours, then, as such?”
 
“I visited their chief solely as a relative. A glass of wine shared with him in his tent can hardly be construed into a dangerous alliance!”
 
“But you hoped to inherit great riches from this relative. That hope might well impel you to cross the frontier of Bohemia for all time.”
 
“Why, what egregious folly! What more could I hope for than that which I already possessed in Berlin? Was I a poor adventurer seeking his fortune by his sword? Rich in my own right; enjoying to the full the king’s favor; attached to the court by all that satisfied pride could demand, as well as by ties of the tenderest sentiments. What more was there for me to covet or to seek elsewhere?”
 
The major turned his head aside with an air of indifference.
 
“One single fact suffices to discount everything you have said, Baron,” he replied dryly. “You have twice attempted to escape from the fortress. An innocent man awaits his trial with confidence, knowing that it cannot be other than favorable. The culprit alone flees.”
 
Trenck, though quivering with blind rage, continued to maintain his former attitude, his features composed, his eyes fixed upon the major’s sword.
 
“Sir,” he said, “in three weeks, on the twenty-fifth of September, I shall have been a prisoner for one year. You in your position may not have found the time long, but to me it has dragged interminably. And it has been still harder for me to bear because I have not been able to count the days or hours which still separate me from justice and liberty. If I knew the limit set to my captivity—no matter what it may be—I could surely find resignation and patience to await it.”
 
“It is most unfortunate, then,” said the major, “that no one could give you that information.”
 
“Say rather, would not,” replied Trenck. “Surely, something of the matter must be known here. You, for instance, major, might tell me frankly what you think to be the case.”
 
“Ah!” said Doo, assuming the self-satisfied manner of a jailer; “it would not be proper for me to answer that.”
 
“You would save me from despair and revolt,” replied Trenck warmly. “For I give you my word of honor that from the moment I know when my captivity is to terminate—no matter when that may be, or what my subsequent fate—I will make no further attempts to evade it by flight.”
 
“And you want me to tell you——”
 
“Yes,” interrupted Trenck, with a shudder; “yes, once again I ask you.”
 
Doo smiled maliciously as he answered:
 
“The end of your captivity? Why, a traitor can scarcely hope for release!”
 
The heat of the day, the wine he had drunk, overwhelming anger and his fiery blood, all mounted to Trenck’s head. Incapable of further self-restraint, he flung himself upon the major, tore the coveted sword from his side, dashed out of the chamber, flung the two sentinels at the door down the stairs, took their entire length himself at a single bound and sprang into the midst of the assembled guards.
 
Trenck fell upon them with his sword, showering blows right and left. The blade flashed snakelike in his powerful grasp, the soldiers falling back before the fierce onslaught. Having disabled four of the men, the prisoner succeeded in forcing his way past the remainder and raced for the first rampart.
 
There he mounted the rampart and, never stopping to gauge its height, sprang down into the moat, landing upon his feet in the bottom of the dry ditch. Faster still, he flew to the second rampart and scaled it as he had done the first, clambering up by means of projecting stones and interstices.
 
It was just past noon; the sun blazed full upon the scene and every one within the prison stood astounded at the miraculous flight in which Trenck seemed to fairly soar through the air. Those of the soldiers whom Trenck had not overthrown pursued, but with little hope of overtaking him. Their guns were unloaded so that they were unable to shoot after him. Not a soldier dared to risk trying to follow him by the road he had taken, over the ramparts and moats; for, without that passion for liberty which lent wings to the prisoner there was no hope of any of them scaling the walls without killing himself a dozen times over.
 
They were, therefore, compelled to make use of the regular passages to the outer posterns and these latter being located at a considerable distance from the prisoner’s avenue of escape, he was certain, at the pace he was maintaining, to gain at least a half-hour’s start over his pursuers.
 
Once beyond the walls of the prison, with the woods close by, it seemed as if Trenck’s escape was assured beyond doubt.
 
He had now come to a narrow passageway leading to the last of the inner posterns which pierced the walls. Here he found a sentinel on guard and the soldier sprang up to confront him. But a soldier to overcome was not an obstacle to stop the desperate flight of the baron. He struck the man heavily in the face with his sword, stunning him and sending him rolling in the dust.
 
Once through the postern there now remained only a single palisade or stockade—a great fence constructed of iron bars and iron trellis-work, which constituted the outermost barrier between the fleeing prisoner and liberty. Once over that iron palisade he had only to dash into the woods and disappear.
 
But it was ordained that Trenck was not to overcome this last obstacle, simple as it appeared. At a fatal moment, his foot was caught between two bars of the palisade and he was unable to free himself.
 
While he was engaged in superhuman but futile efforts to release his foot, the sentinel of the passage, who had picked himself up, ran through the postern toward the palisade, followed by another soldier from the garrison. Together they fell upon Trenck, overwhelming him with blows with the butts of their muskets and secured him.
 
Bruised and bleeding he was borne back to his cell.
 
Major Doo informed Trenck, after this abortive attempt to escape, that he had been condemned to one year’s imprisonment only. That year was within three weeks of expiring when the infamous major, who was an Italian, goaded the unfortunate young man into open defiance of his sovereign’s mandate. His pardon was at once annulled and his confinement now became most rigorous.
 
Another plot, headed by three officers and several soldiers of the guard, who were friendly to Trenck, was discovered at the last moment—in time for the conspirators themselves to escape to Bohemia, but under circumstances which prevented Baron de Trenck from accompanying them.
 
This also served to increase the hardships of the prisoner’s lot, and he now found himself deprived of the former companionship of his friends and surrounded by strangers, the one familiar face remaining being that of Lieutenant Bach, a Danish officer, a braggart swordsman and ruffler, who had always been hostile to him.
 
But, despite his isolation, the energy and strength of Trenck’s character were only augmented by his misfortunes, and he never ceased to plot for his deliverance. Weeks passed without any fruitful event occurring in the life of the prisoner, yet help was to come to him from a source from which he could never have expected it. But before that fortuitous result was destined to take place—in fact, as preliminary to its achievement—he was destined to be an actor in the most remarkable scene that ever has been recorded in the annals of prison life, and in one of the strangest duels of modern times.
 
One day Trenck had cast himself fully clothed upon his bed, in order to obtain a change of position in his cramped place of confinement. Lieutenant Bach was on duty as his guard.
 
The young baron had retained in prison the proud and haughty demeanor which had formerly brought upon him so much censure at court. Lieutenant Bach’s countenance also bore the imprint of incarnate pride.
 
The two exchanged from time to time glances of insolence; for the rest, they remained silently smoking, side by side.
 
Trenck was the first to break the silence, for prisoners grasp every opportunity for conversation, and at any price.
 
“It appears to me your hand is wounded, lieutenant,” Trenck said. “Have you found another opportunity to cross swords?”
 
“Lieutenant Schell, it seemed to me, looked somewhat obliquely at me,” replied the Dane. “Therefore, I indulged him in a pass or two directed against his right arm.”
 
“Such a delicate youth, and so mild-mannered! Are you not ashamed?”
 
“What could I do? There was no one else at hand.”
 
“Nevertheless he seems to have wounded you?”
 
“Yes, accidentally though, without knowing what he did.”
 
“The fact, then, of having been expelled from two regiments for your highhanded acts, and finally transferred to the garrison of the fortress of Glatz as punishment, has not cured you of your fire-eating propensities?”
 
“When a man has the reputation of being the best swordsman in Prussia he values that title somewhat more than your military rank, which any clumsy fool can obtain.”
 
“You, the best swordsman!” exclaimed Trenck, concluding his remark with an ironical puff of smoke.
 
“I flatter myself that such is the case,” retorted Bach, emitting in turn a great cloud of tobacco-smoke.
 
“If I were free,” said Trenck, “I might, perhaps, prove to you in short order that such is not the case.”
 
“Do you claim to be my master at that art?”
 
“I flatter myself that such is the case.”
 
“That we shall soon see,” cried Bach, flushing with rage.
 
“How can we? I am disarmed and a prisoner.”
 
“Ah, yes, you make your claim out of sheer boastfulness, because you think we cannot put it to the test!”
 
“Truly, lieutenant, set me at liberty and I swear to you that on the other side of the frontier we will put our skill to the test as freely as you like!”
 
“Well, I am unwilling to wait for that. We will fight here, Baron Trenck.”
 
“In this room?”
 
“After your assertion, I must either humble your arrogance or lose my reputation.”
 
“I shall be glad to know how you propose to do so?”
 
“Ah, you talk of Bohemia because that country is far away. As for me, I prefer this one, because it affords an immediate opportunity to put the matter to the test.”
 
“I should ask nothing better if it were not impossible.”
 
“Impossible! You shall see if it be.”
 
Bach sprang up. An old door, supported by a couple of benches, had been placed in the chamber for a table. He hammered at the worm-eaten wood and knocked off a strip which he split in half. One of these substitutes for rapiers he gave to Trenck, retaining the other himself, and both placed themselves on guard.
 
After the first few passes, Trenck sent his adversary’s make-shift sword flying through space, and with his own he met the lieutenant full in the chest.
 
“Touché!” he cried.
 
“Heavens! It is true!” growled Bach. “But I’ll have my revenge!”
 
He went out hastily. Trenck watched him in utter amazement and he was even more astounded when, an instant later, he saw Bach return with a couple of swords, which he drew out from beneath his uniform.
 
“Now,” he said to Trenck, “it is for you to show what you can do with good steel!”
 
“You risk,” returned the baron, smiling calmly, “you risk, over and above the danger of being wounded, losing that absolute superiority in matters of the sword of which you are so proud.”
 
“Defend yourself, braggart!” shouted Bach. “Show your skill instead of talking about it.”
 
He flung himself furiously upon Trenck. The latter, seeming only to trifle lightly with his weapon at first, parried his thrusts, and then pressed the attack in turn, wounding Bach severely in the arm.
 
The lieutenant’s weapon clattered upon the floor. For an instant he paused, immovable, overcome by amazement; then an irresistible admiration—a supreme tenderness, invaded his soul. He flung himself, weeping, in Trenck’s arms, exclaiming:
 
“You are my master!”
 
Then, drawing away from the prisoner, he contemplated him with the same enthusiasm, but more reflectively, and observed:
 
“Yes, baron, you far exceed me in the use of the sword; you are the greatest duelist of the day, and a man of your caliber must not remain longer in prison.”
 
The baron was somewhat taken by surprise at this, but, with his usual presence of mind, he immediately set himself to derive such profit as he might from his guardian’s extravagant access of affection.
 
“Yes, my dear Bach,” he replied, “yes, I should be free for the reason you mention, and by every right, but where is the man who will assist me to escape from these walls?”
 
“Here, baron!” said the lieutenant. “You shall regain your freedom as surely as my name is Bach.”
 
“Oh, I believe in you, my worthy friend,” cried Trenck; “you will keep your word.”
 
“Wait,” resumed Bach reflectively. “You cannot leave the citadel without the assistance of an officer. I should compromise you at every step. You have just seen what a hot-tempered scatterbrain I am. But I have in mind one who admires you profoundly. You shall know who he is tonight, and together we will set you at liberty.”
 
Bach did, in fact, redeem his promise. He introduced Lieutenant Schell, who was to be Trenck’s companion during their arduous flight into Bohemia, into the prisoner’s cell, and himself obtained leave of absence for the purpos............