Part 16 (2/2)
”Your honors! Gentlemen of the jury! I--I am guilty!” Again a murmur ran through the room; but the judge did not repeat his warning. He was himself too much astonished at the words; and even Landolin's lawyer involuntarily threw up his arms in despair. The counselor's eye-gla.s.s sparkled more brightly than before, and his face had a triumphant expression. When silence was restored, Landolin continued:
”Yes, I am guilty. I deserve punishment, just punishment; but not for that of which I stand here accused. I deserve punishment because I was so soft-hearted and compa.s.sionate that I did not prosecute the miserable fellow for his theft.
”Gentlemen of the jury! You twelve men! It is terribly hard that such men as you should be taken from the harvest-field to sit here through a long, hot day! And why? Because of a miserable servant-man, whose life is not worth twelve hours' time, of twelve honorable men like you. I will not speak of myself, of my having to stand here. I only say I should not have been so tender-hearted. Through that I have become guilty of making servants ungovernable. For that, I deserve punishment, for nothing else. Should I have quietly allowed him to kill me? And is it likely that I, who forebore so long with him, sought to kill him?
Was I likely to place my wife, and my children, my honor, my house, and my lands in peril for such a one as he? I will not abuse him; he is dead.” Landolin's voice trembled. He seemed unable to continue. His counsel whispered to him: ”Don't stop there. Say again that you are guilty.” And Landolin cried again: ”I am guilty in not having prosecuted the thief. Of that I am guilty, of nothing more.”
Landolin sat down, and covered his face with both hands. He seemed to be weeping.
The judge handed the foreman of the jury the list of points for their consideration. They all arose, and Landolin was led to the room set apart for the accused. On the way out his son pressed his hand; they could neither speak a word.
”Keeper,” asked Peter, ”can I go with my father?”
”Certainly.”
”But I want to be alone,” interrupted Landolin sharply, and the door closed behind him.
”He would have let Thoma in, but he does not want me,” said Peter to himself; and as other evil thoughts linked themselves to this one, he grated his teeth.
CHAPTER x.x.xII.
The court-room and the long corridor were filled with people, eagerly discussing the expected verdict. Some thought it well-advised, others thought it fool-hardy, that the accused and his lawyer had declined to accept a verdict with ”mitigating circ.u.mstances.” They all agreed, however, that Landolin's speech was a surprise, such as they would probably never live to see again. There were some even who tried to set a money value on it, and a.s.serted that they wouldn't have missed hearing the speech for such or such a sum. No one had dreamed that Landolin was such an orator and actor.
During this time, Landolin stood at the open window of the prisoner's room, grasping the iron grating with both hands. The keeper brought wine. Landolin did not drink it, but he poured some on his hands, and washed them with it; then turned again and started out into the starlit night.
Although he felt the triumph that he had gained by his last words, his knees were weary as if he had climbed over a high mountain, and now, as it seemed to him, he was compelled to walk over a grave, yonder by his home----
A meteor shot across the heavens. Ah! if one could only believe that that is a good sign!
The prisoner's room, and that in which the jury was locked till they should agree upon a verdict, were only separated by one thick wall.
Have they been there long, or only a short time? From the towers of the city twelve o'clock was tolled. ”Twelve strokes of the bell! The voices of twelve men!” said Landolin to himself. Yonder, through the black night, comes a monster with two red eyes, ever nearer and nearer.
Landolin knows very well that it is a locomotive, but nevertheless he starts back from the window in terror, and sits down in a chair. Hark!
A bell rings. It is not outside; it is here. The jury are ready. A heavy trampling is now heard in the corridor, followed by an unbroken silence. Landolin is sent for. With a firm step he mounts the stairs to the prisoner's dock. He stands still; for he is saying to himself: ”They shall never say they saw me break down.” He looks at the twelve men, but their faces seem to him to be swimming in a sea. Now, as though emerging from the waves, they rise. The foreman, t.i.tus, lays his right hand on his heart, in his left a sheet of paper trembles and rustles.
t.i.tus first reads the points that have been submitted to them. Oh, how long that lasts! Why this repet.i.tion? Why not immediately say, Guilty; or, Not Guilty? Now t.i.tus draws a deep breath, and says:
”The accused is p.r.o.nounced not guilty, by six voices against six.”
A blow is heard to fall on the statute book which lies on the counselor's table. His glistening eyegla.s.s falls down, and twirls around on its broad, black ribbon, as if astonished.
The judges hold a whispered consultation; and the president rises, and after reading the pa.s.sages of the law bearing upon the case, says:
”The accused is not guilty. Landolin! you are free.”
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