Part 2 (1/2)

Now, indeed, the reverend gentleman was as fairly caught as ever the devil was by a witch's foot. To this reply there was absolutely no rejoinder.

”I'll take him to task for it to-morrow,” said he, ”and meantime I postpone the inquiry. After it is over, however, I shall require the name of this rascally seducer. And now, my daughter Michal, proceed to your chamber and consider yourself in arrest there for the next four and twenty hours.”

And thus ended the festive day on which Henry Catsrider was ordained a priest.

CHAPTER III.

Wherein is clearly shown that he who tends the sheep is much more honorable than he who slaughters them.

Next morning the reverend gentleman sent for Henry and submitted him to a very severe cross-examination, which lasted for more than an hour. When Henry at last departed, he was not only as red as a boiled crab, but he made his exit head foremost and somewhat precipitately; from which circ.u.mstance the maid-servants, who were listening all the time at the kitchen door, drew various conclusions.

Immediately afterward the reverend gentleman's bell rang three times, which signified that Miss Michal was wanted in the library.

The reverend gentleman was in full canonicals; he united in himself at that moment both the paternal and the maternal authority. He was surrounded by open books, like a general in the midst of his staff; other books, bound in pigskin, stood on the shelves like a phalanx drawn up in battle array, and on the cupboards and presses stood stuffed birds and the skeletons of various animals, like so many witnesses or accusers. The human skeleton in the corner seemed particularly on the alert. The electrical machine was also in readiness to contribute its flashes; but the only being among all these objects which gave any sign of life was the big clock, on the top of which stood a little dog, which kept time with the pendulum by wagging his tail and thrusting out his tongue.

Michal, during the whole of the following examination, fixed her eyes steadily on the mechanical dog; and ever afterward, when she looked back upon that momentous interview, she always saw before her the figure of the little dog wagging his tail and thrusting out his tongue.

”My daughter Michal,” began the scholar, ”I have spoken to the candidate of faith and love, and learnt everything from him. On my asking him whether he had a father, he answered yes. What is he? A man of position who dwells at Zeb, and is the chief judge of the place. I asked him why he had left his father and given himself out for an orphan. He said he had done so because his father was a Catholic, while he himself desired to become a Protestant clergyman.

Such a desire is certainly most praiseworthy. A young man who is ready to eat the bread of affliction rather than be false to his conscience reveals a great character. Moreover this answer is the best defense to the charge you have brought against him, viz., that of daring to make a proposal of marriage without his father's consent. The law does not recognize the consent of a Catholic father, but only of a Protestant. Therefore Henry Catsrider stands absolved from the accusation that he knowingly perpetrated a fraud.

Reticence after all is not falsehood. Then, too, his new confession of faith releases him from all parental authority, thus putting the father completely out of court.”

The big folios and the stuffed birds signified their approval by saying nothing, and the skeleton also was silent as to the fact that his own head had formerly been severed from his body because he had put into practice similar subtleties in his lifetime; only the automatical dog kept on wagging his tail, as if to say, ”No, no!”

and professing his scorn of the professor's sophisms by thrusting out his tongue.

Michal answered not a word.

”Thus all your negations are confuted, and now let us hear your affirmations. What is the name of the young man who has presumed to make you a declaration of love?”

”Valentine Kalondai.”

The learned man no sooner heard this name than he smote violently with the palm of his hand on the volume of Macrobius lying open before him.

”'Quis hominum?'--What sort of a man is he?”

”An honest man!” cried Michal, with flas.h.i.+ng eyes.

”What do you know about it? You only go by his outward appearance.

'Quanta especies sed cerebrum non habet'--a handsome face but no brains. 'Non bene casta caro quae bene pasta caro'--Well fed, ill bred. But I have had occasion to learn something about the fellow's inner man. 'Flocci, nihili'--A feather brain, a nonent.i.ty. 'Cla.s.sis primae exultimis'--Always the first in his cla.s.s, counting from the bottom. And how about his morals? He is a wine-bibber. 'Ubi vinum intrat, ibi ratio exit'--When the wine's in, the wit's out. He is a dancer and a serenader. He goes about with musicians and other lewd fellows. All that, indeed, might have been overlooked; but do you know what the trade of his parents was, ay, and still is? Did he confess _that_ to you in his sinful correspondence? And this trade, remember, he must carry on to his dying day, for he does not know enough--far from it--to raise him to a higher rank. Do you know whose wife you would be if your senseless wish were to be fulfilled?”

The girl grew pale. There had been nothing said about this in the correspondence.

The professor took down his note-book and read out the name and description of the accused:

”'Parentes, Sarah, vidua macellarii'--Sarah, the butcher's widow.

His father was a butcher, and he will be a butcher too. People who work in blood! What do you say to that? Can the daughter of the clergyman become the wife of a butcher? And when she has to choose between a man who tends the sheep of the Lord and a man who slaughters cattle, how can she possibly give her hand to the latter?