One professor-judge laughed outright, a second angrily struck his fist upon the table, a third played with his pen. Mr. Schmuck sat in his chair with a sweet smile, and putting his hands together twirled his thumbs.
"I think you did not understand the question, my son," said the director in a harsh dry voice. "It is not that I wished to know for how much you wrote that trash: but with what object."
"I understood well, and answered accordingly. They gave me writings to copy, they paid me for them: I accepted the payment because it was honorable earnings."
"You did not know they were secret writings?"
"I could not know it was forbidden to write what it was permitted to say for the hearing of the whole public, in the presence of the representative of the King and the Prince Palatine."
At this answer of mine one of the younger professors uttered a sound that greatly resembled a choked laugh. The director looked sternly at him, rebuked with his eyes the sympathetic demonstration, and then bawled angrily at me:--
"Don"t play the fool!"
The only result of this was that I gazed still more closely at him, and was already resolved not to move aside, even if he drove a coach and four at me. I had trembled before him when he had rebuked me for my violin-playing; but now, when real danger threatened me, I did not wince at his gaze.
"Answer me, who gave into your hands that writing, which you copied?"
I clenched my teeth. I would not answer. He might cut me in two without finding within me what he sought.
"Well, won"t you answer my question?"
Indeed, what would have been easier than to relate how some gentleman, whom I did not know, came to me; he had a beard that reached to his knees, wore spectacles, and a green overcoat: they must then try to find the man, if they could:--but then--I could not any longer have gazed into the questioning eyes.
No! I would not lie: nor would I play the traitor.
"Will you answer?" the director cried at me for the third time.
"I cannot answer."
"Ho ho, that is a fine statement. Perhaps you don"t know the man?"
"I know, but will not betray him."
I thought that, at this answer of mine, the director would surely take up his inkstand and hurl it at my head.
But he did not: he took a pinch of snuff from his snuff-box, and looked askance at his neighbor, Schmuck, as much as to say, "It is what I expected from him."
Thereupon Mr. Schmuck ceased to twirl his thumbs and turning to me with a tender face he addressed me with soothing tones:--
"My dear Desider, don"t be alarmed without cause: don"t imagine that some severe punishment awaits you or him from whom you received the writing. It was an error, surely, but not a crime, and will only become a crime in case you obstinately hold back some of the truth. Believe me, I shall take care that no harm befall you; but in that case it is necessary you should answer our questions openly."
These words of a.s.surance began to move me from my purpose. They were said so sweetly, I began to believe in them.
But the director suddenly interrupted:--
"On the contrary! I am forced to contradict the honored professor, and to deny what he has brought forward for the defence of these criminal young men. Grievous and of great moment is the offence they have committed, and the chief causers thereof shall be punished with the utmost rigor of the law."
These words were uttered in a voice of anger and of implacable severity; but all at once it dawned upon me, that this severe man was he who wished to save us, while that a.s.suring, tender paterfamilias was just the one who desired to ruin us.
Mr. Schmuck continued to twirl his thumbs.
The director then turned again to me.
"Why will you not name the man who entrusted you with that matter for copying?"
I gave the only answer possible. "When I copied these writings I could not know I was engaged on forbidden work. Now it has been told me that it was a grievous offence, though I cannot tell why. Still I must believe it. I have no intention of naming the man who entrusted that work to me, because the punishment of me who did not know its object, will be far lighter than that of him, who knew."
"But only think, my dear child, what a risk you take upon your own shoulders," said Mr. Schmuck in gracious tones; "think, by your obduracy you make yourself the guilty accomplice in a crime, of which you were before innocent."
"Sir," I answered, turning towards him: "did you not teach me the heroic story of Mucius Scaevola? did you not yourself teach me to recite "Roma.n.u.s sum civis?"
"Do with me what you please: I shall not prove a traitor: if the Romans had courage, so have I to say "longus post me ordo idem petentium decus.""
"Get you hence," brawled the director; and the pedellus led me away.
Two hours afterwards they told me I might go home; I was saved. Just that implacable director had proved himself the best in his efforts to rescue us. One or two "primani," who had amused the tribunal with some very broad lies, were condemned to a few days" lock-up. That was all.
I thought that was the end of the joke. When they let me go I hurried to Lorand. I was proudly conscious of my successful attempt to rescue my elder brother.
CHAPTER VIII
THE END OF THE BEGINNING
Her ladyship, the beautiful wife of Balnokhazy, was playing with her parrot, when her husband entered her chamber.
The lady was very fond of this creature--I mean of the parrot.
"Well, my dear," said Balnokhazy, "has Koko learned already to utter Lorand"s name?"
"Not yet."
"Well, he will soon learn. By the bye, do you know that Parliament is dissolved. Mr. Balnokhazy may now take his seat in peace beside his wife."
"As far as I am concerned, it may dissolve."
"Well, perhaps you will be interested so far; the good dancers will now go home. The young men of Parliament will disperse to their several homes."
"I don"t wish to detain them."
"Of course not. Why, Lorand will remain here. But even Lorand will with difficulty be able to remain here. He must fly."
"What do you say?"
"What I ought not to say out. Nor would I tell anyone other than you, my dear, as we agreed. Do you understand?"