"An indictment!" cried Boleslav, his anger blazing up, and his eye met young Merckel's.

There he read, in unmistakable characters, the story of the shameless plot against him. He smiled in disgust.

"I see that I am answerable to a military tribunal," he said. "I was prepared for it. I beg you now to arrest me."

The mob pushed forward as if anxious to take him at his word without delay. Boleslav, who all this time had been standing on the threshold of the inner parlour, was hurled forward against the table, within a hair's-breadth of the Landrath, while the fists of his enemies touched his neck from behind.

"Patience, my dear friends," said the Landrath in an amicable tone.

"The first who lays hands on him will himself be put in chains. One more question, _Herr Baron_. If you were taken prisoner, as you maintain, how was it that later, when the disbanding followed, you were not registered and discharged in the regular order?"

"The French, in their hurried flight, left me lying on the field, as I was badly wounded. I was picked up by some peasants, in whose house I lay for months at death's door. When I was able to leave my rescuers, peace had been concluded, and there were no allies in the neighbourhood."

"Your word of honour is of course sacred, _Herr Baron_, but perhaps you can substantiate this with proof?"

"Only with my scars, _Herr Landrath_."

"Ah!... Make a note of that----" He pushed back his leonine locks from his brow, and seemed to be bracing himself for an impressive summing up--

"My friends! Indomitable defenders of your country, and inhabitants of Schranden! The founding of the Landwehr was the rising of a new sun, which has never ceased to cast new l.u.s.tre on the fame of Prussia. Let us congratulate ourselves that we have been born in a time when such great things have been demanded of us, and that we have proved ourselves worthy of, and equal to the demand. Especially in this district, and foremost in this district the parish of Schranden. If we look round us, we see a very different spectacle in other quarters. Not everywhere did the King's appeal meet with such a warm and spontaneous echo.

"Oh, my friends, our hearts bleed when we hear of how, in the districts of Konitz and Stargard, for example, to escape serving, men took refuge in the woods, and lay full-length amongst the wheat till they had to be baited like bulls. Thousands took flight across the frontier, and thus shirked the conscription altogether. And often what had been beautifully drilled companies overnight, by the morning were transformed into a shapeless ma.s.s of panic-stricken deserters. But not in the district that I have had the pleasure of mobilising.

"In less than two weeks, friends and comrades, the Landwehr of the Wartenstein district was ready drilled and armed from top to toe. The levies were double in strength what the government had required of us, and eighty per cent, consisted of volunteers. From the parish of Schranden came only volunteers."

The crowd set up loud hurrahs, and the pastor nodded and smiled in grim satisfaction. He knew whose work that had been.

"I must admit," continued the Landrath, with a chilling sidelong glance at Boleslav, "that the parish of Schranden has one hideous stain on its reputation"--(several loud imprecations were audible)--"a stain which in spite of all its deeds of bravery will never be dissociated from it"

(renewed curses); "but if it is the King's pleasure to overlook it, and only to see the brighter side, his graciousness is due to those who, in defending his realm, have rendered him such able services, whose leader I am happy and proud to call myself. The King's favour--('Why does he harp thus on the King's favour,' thought Boleslav, 'when he might wind up the case and be done with it')--has been abundantly lavished on us, and we are almost overpowered with his blessings. Yet let all who reap the fruits of the harvest remember they owe it to the men of the Landwehr, and not least to their organiser, who sowed for them the seeds of undying fame."

Again he began to turn over the leaves of his portfolio, then he went on: "Take your caps off, intrepid inhabitants of Schranden. Attention, my brave men! Gentlemen, if you please, rise! Whoever keeps his cap on at the back there will be ejected. I am commissioned to read over to you an order of the Cabinet of supreme import. It is as follows: 'Should it prove true that the Freiherr von Schranden of Schloss Schranden and Lieutenant Baumgart of the 15th Regiment of the Silesian Landwehr, be one and the same person, and that, as was naturally supposed of so fearless an officer, he had no real intentions of deserting, I appoint him to a captaincy in my Landwehr, and entrust him with the command of the company in his division. I also bestow on him, in recognition of his extraordinary valour and distinguished service, the iron cross of the first cla.s.s. The Landrath for the district shall invest him with these honours in the presence of his accusers.--Friedrich Wilhelm Rex.'"

The proclamation was received in profound silence. The patriotic Schrandeners stood glowering at each other in consternation. Felix Merckel had sunk back on the window-seat. His fingers clutched convulsively at the cross that shone between the black froggings on his coat. Boleslav felt a buzzing sensation in his head. He was obliged to cling to the door for support, for he feared he might swoon. Not joy, only infinite bitterness, welled up within him. He bit his lips hard to keep back his tears.

The Landrath drew a small black case from the depths of his coat pocket, and presented it to Boleslav with an exaggeratedly obsequious bow. The cover sprang back. The black smoothly polished sc.r.a.p of iron, on its background of blue velvet, seemed surrounded by a halo of shimmering light. Boleslav grasped it with one hand in growing excitement, while he offered his other to the Landrath. The latter retreated a step or two, closely regarding his long, white, skinny hands, as if the act of handing over the case had done them some injury. Then he deliberately hid them behind his back.

"_Herr Landrath_, I offered you my hand," cried Boleslav threateningly, flushing darkly at this new insult.

"According to his Majesty's wishes I have discharged my duty. My instructions did not include a shake of the hand."

At this moment a cross, like the one Boleslav had just received, flew through the air and alighted at his feet Felix Merckel had torn it from his breast. Swelling with righteous indignation, he swaggered up to the official, whom he now felt sure he had no reason to be afraid of, and cried--

"There it may lie. I don't want it now. Any decent soldier would be ashamed to wear it when such as _he_ is decorated with it."

A cry of mingled pain and fury escaped Boleslav's lips, and with raised fists he turned fiercely on his enemy.

Felix Merckel unsheathed his sabre, as if with the intention of hewing down the unarmed man. But the old landlord threw his corpulent form between them. The Landrath confined himself to waving his hands soothingly; and the pastor vigilantly kept watch on his Schrandeners.

He knew his flock, and read murder in their glance.

"Back there! keep back!" he shouted to the tumultuous throng in a voice of bra.s.s. With outstretched arms he sprang into the doorway, where already a line of pikes appeared, ready to fell the victim from behind.

Boleslav looked round and saw with a shudder how near he stood to death.

The pastor, clinging to the roof of the doorway, endeavoured to stem the murderous tide. Would that frail and venerable frame be able to repulse this onslaught of unmuzzled wolves? Would it not be swept away on the crest of this bloodthirsty wave? A weak shield to rely on, indeed! Yet his was the only authority not swamped by the tumult. The Landrath's protesting hands waved impotently above the seething heads, like limp towels; the gentle flutelike tones in which he declared the ringleaders of the disturbance should be turned out and bludgeoned were totally ignored. His parasite, the little portfolio bearer, had taken the precaution to creep under the table.

A voice within Boleslav cried, "What! You will let this old man protect you? Cannot you protect yourself?" And a wild resolve consumed him.

This seemed a moment given him to balance his account with fate--a moment of all others in which cowardice was to be avoided. He caught hold of the old pastor in a grip of iron and drew him aside.

"This is my place, reverend sir," he said, and planted himself in the doorway.

He stretched out his arms above him, as the old man had done, and offered his breast as a target for the pointed weapons. His eye penetrated unflinchingly into the heart of the struggling and ramping mob before him. He felt the foam from their mouths bespatter him, and their hot, foul breath fan his face.

"Here I stand!" he cried. "I have left my pistols at home; so you can make short work of me. Any of you who have the courage."

But no one had the courage, for his back was not turned to them now.

Sabres were lowered, pikes dropped.

"I see--you don't wish to a.s.sa.s.sinate me after all," he said, holding them with his eyes. "You are going to behave yourselves like men, and not like wild beasts. Very well, then, I will speak to you as to reasonable men. Move backwards and keep quiet."

The crowd wavered; the next moment he had the threshold to himself.

"And now--speak! Tell me what you want with me?"

There was no answer, no sound in the room except the laboured breathing of excited lungs.

"You hate me. You would like to take my life. Tell me why? Here in the presence of a representative of the King whom we all serve and fear, in the presence of a representative of the G.o.d in whom I believe and you too--tell me what I have done? I submit myself to their judgment. Now is your opportunity of charging me."

But the silence continued. Only one spluttering voice arose for a moment and died away in a gurgle, as if it were being stifled by force.

"You are dumb. You cannot say what my offence has been,--and you, gentlemen! Won't you come to the a.s.sistance of these poor, speechless people? There on the ground lies a cross, the mark of honour our nation cherishes more highly than any other, which some one threw away, because through my possessing one like it, he considered it contaminated. Some one else declined to shake hands with me just now, a common act of courtesy which no man of honour refuses another unless he be a blackguard. It does not matter, _Herr Landrath_, if in this instance judges and accusers unite in a common cause. Accuse me of what you like, condemn me! I am prepared."

Another long pause. The Landrath twisted his whiskers in embarra.s.sment.

"And you, _Herr Pastor_--it is hardly fitting that I should call the instructor of my youth to account--but some months ago you showed me the door in your own house. Could you not be spokesman now for your parishioners?"

The old man's jaws worked, his lips moved, but no sound issued from them. He appeared to have exhausted his strength, but the wild, fiery glance he darted from beneath his bushy brows boded no good to Boleslav.

With a laugh he went on. "Then I must be my own accuser." He felt intoxicated with his own courage. "Your hand against every man, and every man's hand against you," cried jubilantly within him. "You think you ought to visit the sins of the fathers on me; empty the vials of your wrath on my head because you cannot reach the dead. Very well. I am his heir. I take his guilt upon me, and do not refuse to do penance, when right and justice demand it of me. But why were no steps taken against the dead man himself? Why was he not tried? Why not dragged to the scaffold when he deserved it? _Herr Landrath_, I ask you, as the embodiment of the law, why did the State remain silent and suffer these gallant men who smarted under wrong to take revenge into their own hands? And such a revenge! So childish, so cruel, that one would have thought it could only have occurred to the primitive brain of bloodthirsty savages. Revenge for a deed which at this hour I neither admit nor deny, because it lies shrouded in mystery. Which of you can say how it happened, or whether it happened at all? And in spite of this uncertainty, you have d.a.m.ned and defamed him and his race, deprived them of honour and justice. Is that fair play? Now I ask you to put us on our trial, me, and the dead man, and----" He paused, shocked at the thought that he had nearly let fall Regina's name.

The pastor's eagle eye flashed ominously. Then collecting himself, he continued: "Inquire, speak out unravel the mystery, clear up the matter, and then judge and pa.s.s sentence. But at the same time sit in judgment and pa.s.s sentence on that other crime, the crime that has wrecked my property, and leaves me only uninhabitable ruins to live in, a crime that cries aloud to Heaven for vengeance. On the subject of other outrages and indignities I will be silent--threats of murder to me and mine; the blocking of the churchyard entrance to my father's funeral cortege--all that shall pa.s.s. But the fire, _that_ I swear shall be avenged! If till to-day justice has been blind to my wrongs, its eyes shall be wrenched open. I will not rest day or night till I have dragged the skulking authors of that cowardly, atrocious deed into the light of day, and may G.o.d have mercy on those who attempt to screen or defend them."

Again the mob showed signs of uneasiness. Its foremost ranks pressed back on the others, as if to fly from the vengeance of the wrathful man who had addressed them in words of such burning indignation. Again from the neighbourhood of the window came hoa.r.s.e, stuttering laughter that was choked off as before.

The occupants of the best parlour made an effort to appear as if they had not been listening to Boleslav. The Landrath, who was really painfully affected, busied himself with more zeal than ever in looking through his papers. Old Merckel had picked up the discarded cross, and was trying to persuade his son, who resisted sulkily, to wear it again.

The little man in grey had come out from under the table, and was employing himself in carefully rubbing dust off his knees. Only the old pastor was on the alert. He had propped his stick against the table; the thin white hair that floated round his bald skull quivered. He stood looking, with his vulture profile, and small eyes flashing beneath his sharply projecting brows, like a bird of prey waiting to pounce on its booty.

Had Boleslav caught sight of him at that moment, he might have hesitated to make a fresh challenge. But he wanted to score all along the line and complete his victory.

"In order that there may be a clear understanding between us," he cried, "that all may see who has right on his side and who wrong, I ask, which of you has a charge to prefer against me? To whom have I done an injury? How have I sinned?"