The Chief Justice: A Novel. Franzos Karl Emil

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СКАЧАТЬ glanced through the columns specifying the crimes and then remained plunged in deep thought.

      "The number is nearly double," he resumed. "And it is not only here, but in the whole Empire, that this horrible phenomenon is evident! The Minister of Justice complained of it to me with much concern."

      "But what else could one expect?" cried old Werner. "This accursed Revolution has undermined all discipline, morals and religion! And then the leniency with which these inhuman women are treated-why it is years since the death-sentence has been carried out in a case of child-murder."

      "That will unfortunately soon be changed," answered Sendlingen in a troubled tone. "The Minister of Justice thinks as you do, and would like an immediate example to be made. It is unfortunate, I repeat, and not only because, from principle, I am an opponent of the theory of deterring by fear. Of all social evils this can least of all be cured by the hangman. And if it is so rank nowadays, I do not think the reason is to be found where you and His Excellency seek it, but in the sudden impoverishment, the uncertainty of circumstances and the brutality which, everywhere and always, follow upon a great war. The true physicians are the political economist, the priest and the schoolmaster!.. Or have you ever perhaps known of a case among educated people?"

      "Oh certainly!" answered Herr von Werner importantly. "I have, as it happens, to preside to-morrow, – that is to say unless you will take the case-at the conclusion of a trial against a criminal of that class; at least she must be well-educated as she was governess in the house of a Countess. See here-Case No. 19 on the list." He pointed with his finger to the place.

      Then a dreadful thing happened. Hardly had Sendlingen glanced at the name which Werner indicated, than he uttered a hollow choking cry, a cry of deadly anguish. His face was livid, his features were distorted by an expression of unutterable terror, his eyes started out of their sockets and stared in a sort of fascination at the list before him.

      "Great Heavens!" cried Werner, himself much alarmed, as he seized his chief's hand. "What is the matter with you? Do you know this girl?"

      Sendlingen made no reply. He closed his eyes, rested both arms on the table and tried to rise. But his limbs refused to support him, and he sank down in his chair like one in a faint.

      "Water! Help!" cried Werner, making for the bell.

      A movement of Sendlingen's stopped him. "It is nothing," he gasped with white lips and parched throat. "An attack of my heart disease. It has lately-become-much worse."

      "Oh!" cried Werner with genuine sympathy. "I never even suspected this before. Everybody thought you were in the best of health. What do the doctors say?"

      Again there was no answer. Breathing with difficulty, livid, his head sunk on his breast, his eyes closed, Sendlingen lay back in his chair. And when he raised his eyelids Werner met such a hopeless, despairing look, that the old gentleman involuntarily started back.

      "May I," he began timidly, "call a doctor-"

      "No!" Sendlingen's refusal was almost angry. Again he attempted to rise and this time he succeeded.

      "Thank you," he said feebly. "I must have frightened you. I am better now and shall soon be quite well."

      "But you are going home?" "Why should I? I will rest in this comfortable chair for half an hour and then, my dear colleague, I shall be quite at your service again."

      The old gentleman departed but not without hesitation: even he was really attached to Sendlingen. The other officials also received the news of this attack with genuine regret, especially as Werner several times repeated in his important manner:

      "Any external cause is quite out of the question, gentlemen, quite out of the question. We were just quietly talking about judicial matters. Ah, heart disease is treacherous, gentlemen, very treacherous."

      Hardly had the door closed, when Sendlingen sank down in his chair, drew the lists towards him and again stared at that particular spot with a look on his face as if his sentence of death was written there.

      The entry read thus: "Victorine Lippert. Born 25th January 1834 at Radautz in the Bukowina. Governess. Child-murder. Transferred here from the District Court at Gölotz on the 17th June 1852. Confessed. Trial to be concluded 8th November 1852."

      The column headed "sentence" was still empty.

      "Death!" he muttered. "Death!" he repeated, loud and shrill, and a shudder ran through his every fibre.

      He sank back and hid his face which had suddenly become wasted.

      "O my God!" he groaned. "I dare not let her die-her blood would cry out against me, against me only."

      And he drew the paper towards him again and stared at the entry, piteously and beseechingly, as though he expected a miracle from Heaven, as though the letters must change beneath the intensity of his gaze.

      The mid-day bells of the neighbouring cathedral aroused him from his gloomy brooding. He rose, smoothed his disarranged hair, forced on his accustomed look of quiet, and betook himself to Werner's room.

      "You see," he said. "I have kept my word and am all right again. Are there any pressing matters to be rid of?"

      "Only one," answered Werner. "The Committee of Discipline has waited your return, as it did not wish to decide an important case without you."

      "Good, summon the Committee for five o'clock today."

      He now went the round of the other offices, answered the anxious inquiries with the assurance that he was quite well again, and then went down a long corridor to his own quarters which were in another wing of the large building.

      His step was still elastic, his face pale but almost cheerful. Not until he had given his servant orders to admit nobody, not even his friend Berger, and until he had bolted his study-door, did he sink down and then give himself up, without restraint, to the fury of a wild, despairing agony.

      CHAPTER II

      For an hour or more the unhappy man lay groaning, and writhing like a worm under the intensity of his wretchedness. Then he rose and with unsteady gait went to his secretaire, and began to rummage in the secret drawers of the old-fashioned piece of furniture.

      "I no longer remember where it is," he muttered to himself. "It is long since I thought of the old story-but God has not forgotten it."

      At length he discovered what he was looking for: a small packet of letters grown yellow with time. As he unloosed the string which tied them, a small watercolour portrait in a narrow silver frame fell out: it depicted the gentle, sweet features of a young, fair, grey-eyed girl. His eyes grew moist as he looked at it, and bitter tears suddenly coursed down his cheeks.

      He then unfolded the papers and began to read: they were long letters, except the last but one which filled no more than two small sheets. This he read with the greatest attention of all, read and re-read it with ever-increasing emotion. "And I could resist such words!" he murmured. "Oh wretched man that I am."

      Then he opened the last of the letters. "You evidently did not yourself expect that I would take your gift," he read out in an undertone. And then: "I do not curse you; on the contrary, I ardently hope that you may at least not have given me up in vain."

      He folded the letters and tied them up. Then he undid them again and buried himself once more in their melancholy contents.

      A knock at the door interrupted him: his housekeeper announced СКАЧАТЬ