the kind-hearted Mary, still weeping, slipped three ducats into my
hand, which I accepted.

And, now behold us once more in the wood, which was not above a
hundred paces from the house, half dead with hunger and fatigue, not
daring to enter any habitation, while in the states of Brandenburg,
and dragging our weary steps all night through snow and rain, until
our guide 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