The porter at the station did not know where Captain von Wegstetten lived. But the turnpike-keeper had a piece of luck: outside the station he met a gunner, who readily told him the address--"11 Markt Stra.s.se, up two flights of stairs"--and showed him the way to go.

The two flights of stairs tried the old man sorely. He had to wait on the first landing in order to get his breath. "Have I grown old all of a sudden?" he asked himself in surprise.

A soldier in a red coat opened the door to him.

"Is the captain at home?" asked the turnpike-keeper.

"Sorry, but he's not," answered the lad.

"Can you tell me where I can find him?"

"That would be no good. The captain's gone away--to a court-martial."

The turnpike-keeper started violently.

"Is the court-martial on Bombardier Vogt?" he asked.

The soldier answered in the affirmative, and inquired in surprise, "Who are you, then?"

"Vogt's father. I--I wanted to talk to the captain about my son. But it is too late, I see."

He turned about, saying, "Thank you all the same," and went towards the stairs. In the dark he missed the first step and stumbled; the lad ran after him. He led the old man to the banister and said, "Take care you don't fall; it is rather dark here. And you know, Herr Vogt, the men of the battery all say it is a mean shame, what's happened to Vogt, a mean shame."

But the turnpike-keeper did not seem to understand him. He only nodded and said, "Thank you, thank you," and tramped slowly down the stairs in his heavy boots.

Whilst Friedrich August Vogt waited for his train in the station of the little garrison town, the trial of his son was taking place before the military court of the district.

There was no doubt about the circ.u.mstances of the case. The two eye-witnesses, Senior-lieutenant Brettschneider and Senior-lieutenant Reimers, were unanimous on the subject, and the accused gave his a.s.sent to the correctness of the particulars.

The trial would therefore have come to an end very quickly had there not been a number of witnesses for the accused.

Captain von Wegstetten, as head of the battery; Captain Guntz, who had commanded it during Wegstetten's temporary absence; Senior-lieutenant Reimers and Lieutenant Landsberg, as officers in the battery; the sergeant-major and other non-commissioned officers: all united in giving Vogt the very best possible character. Wegstetten had had a violent altercation with Brettschneider, not only from personal feeling for the bombardier, but also from annoyance that his best candidate for a non-commissioned officer's post was lost to him through a piece of such tactless mismanagement. Brettschneider had complained about this reprimand, but no notice had been taken of his complaint, and that in itself spoke volumes for the accused. Guntz and Reimers were very warm in their praise of Vogt, and even Lieutenant Landsberg remembered the man as being particularly willing and diligent on duty.

Things looked favourable for the accused.

One of the officers present, a captain of the pioneers, asked Vogt: "You had just been working very hard, had you not? had fixed the heavy wheel single-handed, and had run very fast to tell Senior-lieutenant Brettschneider?--were you not very much exhausted and out of breath?"

"Yes, sir."

"I mean, you were rather over-tired and your eyes were dazed?"

"Yes, sir."

"Perhaps you did not quite know what you were doing?"

The accused hesitated a moment.

Wegstetten and Reimers had remained in the room. The former moved restlessly from one foot to the other. If Vogt were only to say "Yes,"

then the whole thing would be put down to a temporary aberration of mind due to hurry and fatigue, and the affair would end with his acquittal.

But the bombardier answered: "No, sir, I knew quite well what I was doing."

Now that was honest, but distinctly stupid.

The countenance of the prosecutor lightened up. He was a very young man, with many scars on his face. He sat stiffly on his chair, tightly b.u.t.toned into an immaculate brand-new uniform; and hitherto he had been regarding with a bored expression a silver bangle that he wore on his right wrist.

The hearing of witnesses was at an end. The president of the court-martial, a fat, good-humoured man of mature years, asked: "Is there anything that you wish to say, Bombardier Vogt?"

"No, thank you, sir."

"You acknowledge your guilt, then?"

"Yes, sir."

But the president wanted to give the man a chance, and asked another question, to which an affirmative answer would be a matter of course.

"But you are sorry for your conduct?" he asked.

The accused, however, again hesitated. Naturally every one expected him to say "yes," so that people were not listening very attentively. But when this "yes" did not appear to be forthcoming, all eyes were suddenly fixed upon Vogt.

"No," said he firmly.

The president looked amazed. "You cannot have understood me," he said.

"I asked you if you were not sorry for your conduct?"

But the answer came, clear and decided: "No, I cannot be sorry."

Every one present looked dumfounded. Wegstetten thrust his sword angrily against the ground. G.o.d in heaven! was the fellow an a.s.s? Now his fate was sealed!

Those who were a.s.sisting at the court-martial looked indignant; the chief of them, a major of dragoons, tapped impatiently on the table with his gold pencil-case, and gave a condemnatory shake of his head.

The youngest of his colleagues, a senior-lieutenant in the grenadiers, twirled his moustache briskly; the expression of his face said plainly: "Just wait a bit! we'll give you a lesson!"

The public prosecutor beamed. He rose with an air of triumph, and demanded, "having full regard for all the extenuating circ.u.mstances of the case, but also in consideration of the obstinate persistence of the accused in his offence," a punishment of nine months' imprisonment.

Vogt turned as pale as death when he heard these words. This was impossible! It could not, it ought not to be!

The court was not long in coming to its decision, and its judgment was read out by the president in a quiet even tone of voice.

The accused hung on his lips with anxious expectation. At last, after all the formalities, came the verdict: "five months' imprisonment." He leant against the railing that separated him from his judges. The wood gave a creak. Long after the fat gentleman had sat down again Vogt went on listening. Surely something more was coming; some mitigation of this terrible sentence? But the trial was at an end.

The condemned man was taken away by a non-commissioned officer; he walked with unsteady steps, his eyes staring into vacancy. In the pa.s.sage outside he caught sight of Wegstetten. The captain was talking to an old man in civilian clothes. Vogt felt a thrill when he saw the white hair that surrounded the old man's face. But it was only after he had gone round the next corner of the pa.s.sage that the recognition struck him: great G.o.d, it was his father!

Involuntarily he stopped and tried to turn back; but the non-com, took his arm and pushed him forward, not roughly, yet in such fashion that the prisoner gave up his attempt.

"You fool, you!" said his companion; "if you had said you were quite sick with shame for your silly behaviour, you'd have got off with a month!"

After endless questions the turnpike-keeper had managed to find his way to the court-house of the army-corps. He had been wandering through street after street; the busy traffic of the capital had made his head spin, and he was tired to death with this unwonted tramping over hard stone pavements.