"Mr. Meyerhofer, senior!" the clerk called from the court, and sprang towards them to help Paul in carrying the chair.
The old man panted and puffed out his cheeks; then again he leaned back, moaning low--inwardly rejoicing greatly to be able to play a part so full of effect.
The wide a.s.size court swam before Paul"s eyes in a red mist; he indistinctly saw closely-packed faces gazing down on himself or on his father; then he had to leave the court again.
The sisters, who up to now had looked around full of curiosity, began to be afraid. To deaden their fear they ate the sandwiches they had brought. Paul encouraged them, and refused the sausage which they generously offered him.
His mother had retired to a corner, was trembling, and said, from time to time, "What may they be wanting with me?"
"Mr. Meyerhofer, junior!" sounded from the door.
The next moment he stood in the lofty room filled with people before an elevated table, at which sat several men with severe and serious faces; only one, who sat a little on one side, smiled constantly; that was the chief-justice, who was feared by all the world. On the right side of the court, too, on raised seats, sat a little knot of dignified citizens, who looked very much bored, and tried to pa.s.s the time with penknives, bits of paper, etc. These were the jury. On the left side, locked up in the dock, sat the accused. He was making eyes at the audience, and his face looked as if the whole affair concerned anybody but him. Paul had never seen the sinister fellow look so cheerful.
"Your name is Paul Meyerhofer, you were born at such and such a time, Protestant, etc.?" asked the judge who sat in the middle, a man with a closely-shorn head and a large, sharply-cut nose reading the dates from a big book. He spoke in a pleasant murmuring tone, but suddenly his voice grew harsh and cutting as a knife, and his eyes shot lightning at Paul.
"Before your examination, Mr. Paul Meyerhofer, I call your attention to the fact that you will have to confirm your statement by oath."
Paul shuddered. The word oath pa.s.sed through his soul like a dagger. He felt as if he must throw himself down and hide his face from all those spying eyes which were staring at him.
And then he gradually felt a strange change come over him. The staring eyes disappeared, the court vanished in mist, and the longer the clear, sharp voice of the judge was speaking to him, the more impressively he heard himself threatened with heavenly and earthly punishment, the more he felt as if he were quite alone in the big room with that man, and all his senses tended so to answer him that Elsbeth should be entirely left out of the question.
"Now is the moment--now show yourself a man!" cried a voice within him.
It was a feeling very like the one he had had while sitting on the roof: his wits were sharpened, and the dull weight which pressed on him constantly sank away as if the chains with which he had been fettered were taken off.
He related in quiet words what he knew about the accused, and described his character; he also mentioned that he had felt a sort of inner resemblance between them.
When he said that, a murmur went through the court, the jury let the bits of paper fall, and two or three penknives were shut noisily.
"What happened when Mr. Douglas and your father fell out?" asked the president.
"I cannot tell you that," he answered, in a firm voice.
"Why not?"
"I should have to speak ill of my father," he answered.
"What does ill mean?" asked the president. "Do you mean to imply that you fear to expose your father to punishment by law?"
"Yes," he answered, softly.
Again the same murmur went through the court, and behind his back he heard the voice of his father hissing, "The degenerate rascal!" But he did not allow himself to be confused by that.
"The law permits you in such cases to refuse to make a statement,"
the president continued. "But what happened that made your father turn against Raudszus?"
Without hesitation he related the scene; only when he had to confess how he had carried his father into the house his voice shook, and he turned around as if wishing to implore pardon from him.
The old man had clinched his fists and gnashed his teeth. He had to live to see his own son tear the halo of glory from his head.
"And after you had dismissed the servant, did you see or hear nothing of him any more?" asked the president.
"No."
"When you awoke in the night of the fire, what did you see first?" he continued his questioning.
A long silence. Paul put his hands to his forehead and staggered back two steps.
A thrill of pity ran through the hall. No one thought otherwise but that the remembrance of that terrible sight overpowered him.
The silence continued.
"Please answer."
"I did--not--sleep."
"So you were awake.... Were you in your bedroom when you first perceived the glow of the fire?"
"No."
"Where were you?"
A long pause. One could have heard a leaf falling to the ground it was so still in the court.
"You were not at home?"
"No."
"Where then?"
"In--the garden--of--Helenenthal."
A surpressed murmur arose, which grew into a tumult when old Douglas, who had sprung up from his chair, cried out in a voice that penetrated through the court, "What were you doing there?" Old Meyerhofer uttered a curse. Elsbeth turned pale, and her head sank heavily against the back of the bench.
The president seized the bell.
"I must beg silence there," he said; "it is I who put the questions.
On a repeated interruption I shall have you taken out of court. So, Mr. Paul Meyerhofer, what were you going to do in the garden of Helenenthal?"
At the same moment there arose a fresh murmur in the background, and in the witness-box a circle formed itself around Elsbeth.
"What is the matter over there?" asked the president.
The chief-justice, whose eyes no speck of dust in the court escaped, bent forward and whispered to him, with a meaning smile,
"The witness has fainted."
Then the president, too, smiled, and the whole a.s.sembly of judges smiled.