Part 40 (1/2)
”Yes,” solemnly answered the general; ”it is the royal seal from the king's private cabinet.”
”Read the address upon this, and the unopened letter.”
”Truly, the latter is directed to my daughter, and the other to Professor Ged.i.c.ke.”
Herr Ged.i.c.ke opened the letter, asking the general if he could recognize the king's handwriting.
”Yes,” he answered, ”I know it well.”
”Have the goodness to read the lines upon the margin,” mid the professor, unfolding the letter, so that he could only read those referred to.
The general read: ”Professor Ged.i.c.ke shall go himself to Fraulein von Leuthen, and bring her to reason, reading the doc.u.ment to her without witnesses. I wish this affair to come to an end. Teach Mamselle mores!
mores! mores! FREDERICK.”
”You have heard the royal command, ladies and gentlemen; will you respect it?” said the professor, turning around with an air of proud satisfaction.
”My dear son-in-law,” said the general, solemnly, ”it is a royal command; give me your arm, as you know I am feeble; and you, my wife, take my other arm, and we will go into the next room. Hus.h.!.+ not a word--we have only to obey, and not reason.”
He seized his wife's hand hastily and firmly, that she should not slip away, and winked to Ebenstreit, upon whose support he crossed the room, drawing his wife with him, and pus.h.i.+ng open the door of the next with his foot.
Marie had stood during the whole transaction pale and rigid in the centre of the room, looking haughty and defiant as long as her parents and Herr Ebenstreit were present. Now, as the door closed, life and action were visible in this marble form; she rushed to the old gentleman, scarce respiring, and looking up at his dignified, sad face, asked: ”Is he living? Tell me only this, or is he ill?”
”Yes, he lives, he does not suffer from bodily ills, but the sickness of the soul.”
”And do not I also?” asked she, with quivering voice. ”Oh! I know what he suffers, as we are wretched from the same cause. But tell me, have you seen him?”
”Yes, Fraulein, I have.”
”Where is he? Where did you see him?”
”In prison!”
Marie grew paler, and retreated, shuddering. The director continued: ”In a dark, damp prison at Spandau. The poor fellow has been there for two months without air, light, or occupation, and his only society is his own revengeful thoughts and angry love-complaints.”
Marie gave one hollow moan, covering her corpse-like face with her hands.
”In this abode of torture, in this dwelling of the d.a.m.ned, he must remain ten long years, if death does not release him?”
”What did you say?” she groaned. ”Ten long years? Have they condemned him?”
”Yes, he was guilty of a great crime--eloping with a minor--who, with the king's consent, and that of her parents, was betrothed to another.
Read the sentence of the court, which was forwarded to me as the head of the college where Moritz was employed. See, here is the king's signature, which affirms the sentence, rendering it legal, and here upon the margin are the lines your father read.”
Trembling, Marie perused the contents. ”Ten years in the house of correction!” she murmured. ”On my account condemned to a living death!
No, no, it is impossible! It cannot be! Ten years of the best part of life! He condemned as a criminal! I will go to the king. I will throw myself at his feet, imploring for mercy. I am the guilty one--I alone!
They should judge me, and send me to the penitentiary! I will go to the king! He must and will hear me!”
”He will not,” sighed the director. ”Listen to me, poor child! As I heard the sentence, I felt it my duty to summon all my powers to rescue Moritz, for I love him as a son, and had set my hopes upon him.”