The judges looked at each other. "What is he at? He is going to speak against himself."

He said: "Anxiety made me nearly unconscious. I then acted in a kind of madness which at that moment rendered me incapable of calculation."

"He is cutting his own throat!" said the audience.

"I have all my life been shy and oppressed, and have felt as if I could look n.o.body in the face, though I had nothing to conceal; but if this time I behave in a cowardly manner, I believe I should be less able to do so than ever--and this time I should have good reason enough for it. My defender has also represented my former life as a pattern of all virtues. But this was not so, either. I lacked dignity and self-possession; I pa.s.sed over too much as regards both other people and myself, and that has always rankled in my mind, though I was never clear about it. Too much has weighed upon me to enable me ever to breathe freely as a man should if he does not want to grow dull and care-laden.

This deed has made me free, and has given me that which I lacked so long; it has been a great happiness to me; and should I be so ungrateful as to deny it to-day? No; I will not do that. Let them imprison me as long as they like. I shall abide my time and begin a new life.

"And so I must say I have set fire to my belongings in full consciousness; I was never more in my senses than at the moment when I poured the petroleum over my sheaves; and if to-day I were to be in the same position, G.o.d knows I should do the same again. Why should I not?

What I destroyed was the work of my own hands--I had created it after long years of hard toil, and could do with it what I liked. I well know that the law is of a different opinion, and therefore I shall quietly go to prison for my time. But who else suffered by the injury except myself? My sisters were well provided for, and my father--" he stopped a moment, and his voice shook as he continued--"yes, would it not have been better if my old father had pa.s.sed the last years of his life in peace and tranquillity with one of his daughters than where I am now going?

"Fate would not have it so. A stroke killed him, and my brothers say that I was his murderer. But my brothers have no right at all to judge about that; they neither know me nor my father. All their lives they have been concerned with themselves only, and have let _me_ alone care for my father, mother, and sisters, house, and farm, and I was only good enough when they wanted something. They turn away from me to-day, but they can never be more estranged from me in the future than they have always been in the past.

"My sisters"--he turned towards the witness-box, where Greta and Kate sat crying with covered faces, and his voice grew softer as if from suppressed tears--"my sisters won't have anything to do with me any more, but I gladly forgive them; they are women, and made of more delicate metal; also, there are two men standing behind them who find it very easy to be indignant at my monstrous deed. They have all abandoned me now--no, not all"--a bright look crossed his face--"but that need not be mentioned here. But one thing I will say, even though I be considered a murderer--I do not repent that my father died through my deed; I loved him more when I killed him than if I had let him live. He was old and weak, and what awaited him was shame and dishonor--he lived such a quiet life, and would have miserably dwindled away here; surely it was better death should come to him like lightning that kills people in the middle of their happiness. That is my opinion. I have settled it with my conscience, and have no need to render account to any one but to G.o.d and to myself. Now you may condemn me."

"Bravo!" cried a thundering voice in the court from the witness-box.

It was Douglas.

His gigantic figure stood erect, his eyes sparkled beneath his bushy brows, and when the president called him to order he sat down defiantly and said to his neighbor, "I can be proud of him--eh?"

CHAPTER XXIII.

Two years later, on a bright morning in June, the red-painted gate of the prison opened and let out a prisoner, who, with a laugh on his face, was blinking his eyes in the bright sun, as if trying to learn to bear the light again. He swung the bundle which he carried to and fro, and looked carelessly to the right and the left, like one who was not decided which direction to follow, but for whom, on the whole, it was unimportant whither he strayed.

When he pa.s.sed the front of the prison building he saw a carriage standing there which appeared known to him, for he stopped and seemed to be reflecting. Then he turned to the coachman, who, in his ta.s.selled fur-cap, nodded haughtily from the box.

"Is anybody from Helenenthal here?" he asked.

"Yes; master and the young lady. They have come to fetch Mr.

Meyerhofer."

And directly after was heard from the steps, "Hey, holloa! there he is already--Elsbeth, see! there he is already."

Paul jumped up the steps, and the two men lay in each other's arms.

Then the heavy folding doors were opened softly and timidly, and let out a slender female figure, clad in black, who, with a melancholy smile, leaned against the wall and quietly waited until the men unclasped each other.

"There, you have him, Elsbeth!" shouted the old man.

Hand in hand they stood opposite each other and looked in one another's eyes; then she leaned her head on his breast and whispered, "Thank G.o.d that I am with you again!"

"And in order that you may have each other all to yourselves, children,"

said the old man, "you two shall drive home, and I will meanwhile drink a bottle of claret to the health of my successor. I am well off, for I retire from business this day."

"Mr. Douglas!" exclaimed Paul, terrified.

"_Father_, I am called--do you understand? Let me be fetched towards evening. You are now master at home. Good-bye."

With that he strode down the steps.

"Come," said Paul, gently, with downcast eyes. Elsbeth went after him with a shy smile, for now when they were alone neither dared to approach the other.

And then they drove silently out onto the sunny, flowery heath.... Wild pinks, bluebells, and ground-ivy wove themselves into a many-colored carpet, and the white meadowsweet lifted its waving blossoms, as if snow-flakes had been strewn on the flowers. The leaves of the weeping-willow rustled softly, and like a net of sparkling ribbons the little streams flowed along beneath their branches. The warm air trembled, and yellow b.u.t.terflies fluttered up and down in couples.

Paul leaned back in the cushions, and gazed with half-shut eyes at this profusion of charming sights.

"Are you happy?" asked Elsbeth, leaning towards him.

"I don't know," he answered; "it is too much for me."

She smiled; she well understood him.

"See there, our home!" she said, pointing to the White House, which stood out clear in the distance. He pressed her hand, but his voice failed him.

At the edge of the wood the carriage had to stop. Both got out and proceeded on foot.

Then he saw that she carried a little white parcel under her arm, which he had not seen before.

"What is that?" he asked.

"You will soon see," she answered, while a serious smile crossed her face.

"A surprise?"

"A remembrance."

When they entered the wood he perceived something black between the red stems which was hung with garlands.

"What does that mean?" he asked, stretching out his hand.

"Don't you recognize your friend again?" she replied. "She wanted to be the first to greet you."

"Black Susy," he shouted, and began to run.

"Take me with you," she gasped, laughing. "You forget that henceforth there are two of us."

He seized her hand, and so they stepped before the faithful monster that was keeping watch on the road.

"Dear creature," he said, and stroked the sooty boiler, and as they went on he looked back at her every three steps as if he could not part with her.

"I have watched over her well," said Elsbeth; "she generally stands underneath my window, for we have purchased the whole of your father's inheritance that nothing should be lost to you."

When they approached the opposite edge of the wood, he said, pointing to two trees which stood twenty steps away from the road.

"Here is the place where I found you lying in your hammock."