Part 42 (1/2)
”I pray, sir, do not kill my father!” sobbed the little boy.
”Did I ever--what impertinence!” cried Mr. Skinner. ”This wors.h.i.+pful court does not kill anybody!”
”No, G.o.d forbid!” said the poor woman; ”do not mind the child's asking you not to kill his father. He does not know what he says. He is the son of a poor peasant; he has no education. I know I too talk wildly, but----”
”My good woman,” said Kishlaki, ”my duties as a judge are painful, but imperative and----”
”Oh, I do not ask the court to absolve him from all punishment. No! I do not mean to say that. Punish him severely, cruelly, no matter how, only don't kill him!--Oh! pardon me for saying the word. Oh, pardon me! Send Viola to gaol for many years, for ever, if it must be so; but do spare his life! Perhaps he has told you that he cares not for death--he is fond of talking in this way--but don't believe what he said! When he said it, he had not seen his children; but now he has kissed little Pishta, I am sure he will not say so; and the baby too smiled at him as he stood in his chains. Oh! if you could but see the baby, and if you could hear it calling its father with its small sweet voice, you'd never believe Viola when he says he wishes to die!”
”D--n your squeaking!” growled Mr. Skinner, ”and d--n the blockhead that let her come in! Be off, I say! Your husband's a dead man; if he's afraid of death, why so much the better!”
”Did I say he was afraid of death?” sighed poor Susi. ”I told you a lie!
Viola longs for death! Death is no punishment for him! If you want to punish him, you must lock him up! He's often told me he would rather die than live in a prison!”
Kishlaki looked at her with streaming eyes. Shoskuty produced his watch.
”Oh! sir, I know you will send him to prison! What is death to him? It's but the pain of a moment; but we are the sufferers. I have two children--this boy and the other child, which the Liptaka has in her arms--the Liptaka, I mean the old woman at the door; and what am I to do if their father is hanged?”
Zatonyi remarked, very judiciously, that it made no difference to the children whether their father was hanged or sent to prison for life.
”Oh! but it does, sir. It may make no difference to your wors.h.i.+ps, but it does to us. I know he will be of good behaviour. I will walk to Vienna, I will crawl on my hands and knees after the king until he pardons my husband; and if he will not pardon him, I shall at least be allowed to see him in prison; I can show him the children, and how they have grown! I can bring him something to eat and to put on--oh! for pity's sake, send him to prison! It's a heaven for me; but death is fearful!”
”Fearful, indeed! It's half-past three!” sighed Shoskuty.
”Now do be quiet,” said Zatonyi, taking a pinch of snuff. ”Besides, it's too late. We've pa.s.sed the sentence.”
”The sentence! The sentence of death!” shrieked Susi.
”It's at your service,” sneered Mr. Skinner, pointing to a paper which was just being folded up by Mr. Catspaw.
”But suppose it is bad--it is faulty,” muttered the woman. ”Suppose I say it's wrong--for death is not a punishment to Viola--it's _I_ that am punished!”
”It's done, and can't be undone,” said Zatonyi; ”don't bore us with your useless lamentations.”
”It wants but a quarter to four,” said the Baron. ”I wonder whether this scene is to last any longer?”
”But I pray,” said Susi, shuddering; ”it's but a sheet of paper. If you take another, and write some other words upon it, you can allow Viola to live.”
”Oh indeed! Why should we not? Be off, we've had trouble enough on your account! Mr. Catspaw won't write another sentence to please you.”
”Not to please me; but because it's a question of life and death.”
”My good woman,” sighed Kishlaki, wiping his eyes, ”we have no power to alter the sentence!”
”No power? No----”
”It is impossible!” said Zatonyi.
The poor woman shrieked and fell on the floor. She was taken away; and the sentence was read to Viola.