The Chief Justice Part 12

"He does not suspect it?" she cried. "He thinks that the balance is struck, if he graces a fallen, a condemned creature with a visit! Oh, and this man is n.o.ble and sensitive!"

"You are unjust to him in that, too," protested Berger. "And in that most of all. That he who can usually read the hearts of men like a book, has not thought of this most obvious and natural thing, shows best of all how greatly his misery has distracted and desolated him. He only wants one thing: to come to you, to console you, to console himself in you."

"I will not see him, you must prevent it."

"I cannot. I have tried in vain. He will come; his reason, perhaps his life, depend upon the way you may receive him."

"Do not burden me with such responsibilities," she sobbed despairingly.

"I cannot forgive him. But I desire n.o.body's death, I do not wish him to die. Tell him what you like, even that I forgive him, but keep him away, I implore you."

She would have thrown herself at his feet but he prevented her. "No, not that," he murmured. "I will not urge any more. As G.o.d wills."

A few minutes later he was again with Sendlingen. "She knows all," he told him, "except your name and station. She does not desire your visit--she--dreads the excitement."

He stopped short and looked anxiously at his friend; he feared another sudden outburst of despair.

But it did not come. Sendlingen certainly started as in pain, but then he drew himself up to his full height. "You are concealing the truth from me," he said. "She does not wish to see her mother's betrayer. I did not think of it before, but I read it at once in your looks of alarm. That is bad, very bad--but stop me, it cannot. Where the stranger has tried in vain the father will succeed. My heart tells me so."

He called for his hat and stick and leaning on Berger's arm, went down the steps. In the street he loosed his hold: the energy of his soul had given his body new strength. With a firm step he walked to the prison door, and the quiver in his voice was scarcely perceptible as he gave the warder the order to open Victorine Lippert's cell.

The official obeyed. The prisoner hardly looked up when she heard the bolts rattle yet another time. The warder felt himself in duty bound to call her attention to the importance of the visit she was about to receive. "His Lordship, the Chief Justice, Baron Sendlingen!" he whispered to her. "Inspection of the Cells. Stand up." He stepped back respectfully to admit Sendlingen and locked the door after him.

The two were alone. Victorine had risen as she had been told: once only did she cast a transient and nonchalant look at the tall figure before her, then she remained standing with bowed head. Similar inspections had frequently taken place before; in each case the functionary had briefly asked whether the prisoner wished anything or had any complaint to make. This question she was waiting for now in order to reply as briefly in the negative; she wanted nothing more.

But he was silent, and as she looked up surprised--"Merciful G.o.d!" she cried, and reeled back on to her couch, covering her face with her trembling hands.

She knew who this man was at once, at the first glance. How she had recognised him with such lightning speed, she could not determine, even later when she thought the matter over. It was half dark in the cell, she had not properly seen his features and expression. Perhaps it was his att.i.tude which betrayed him. With bowed head, his hands listlessly hanging by his sides, he stood there like a criminal before his judge.

At her exclamation, he looked up and came nearer. "Victorine," he murmured. She did not understand him, so low was his stifled articulation. "My child!" he then cried aloud and darted towards her.

She rose to her feet and stretched out her hands as if to repel him, gazing at him all the while with widely opened eyes. And again she did not know what it was that suddenly penetrated and moved her heart. Was it because his face seemed familiar to her, mysteriously familiar, as if she had seen it ever since she could think?... Yes, it was so! For what unknown to herself, had overpowered her, was the likeness to her own face. Or was it perhaps the silent misery of his face, the beseeching look of his eyes? She felt the bitter animosity to which she had despairingly clung, the one feeling of which she would not be robbed, suddenly melt away.

"I cannot," she still faltered, but in the same breath she lifted up her arms. "Father!" she cried and threw herself on his breast.

He caught her in his arms and covered her head and face with tears and kisses. Then he drew her upon his knees and laid her head on his breast. Thus they sat and neither spoke a word; only their tears flowed on and on.

CHAPTER VIII.

Half an hour might have pa.s.sed since Sendlingen entered his daughter's cell: to Berger, who was pacing up and down outside as sentry, it seemed an eternity. The warder, too, was struck by the proceeding. This zealous, but very loquacious official, whom Berger had known for many years, approached him with a confidential smile. "There must--naturally enough--be something strange going on in there," he said as he pointed with a smirk towards the cell. "Something very strange."

Berger at first stared at the man as much disconcerted as if he had said that he knew the secret. "What do you mean by that," he then said roughly. "Your opinions are not wanted."

The warder looked at him amazed. "Well, such as we--naturally enough--are at least ent.i.tled to our thoughts," he replied. "There has been a run upon this cell since yesterday as if it contained a princess! First the doctor. Father Rohn and you, Herr Berger--and now his Lordship the Chief Justice, and all in little more than an hour's time. That doesn't occur every day, and I know the reason for it."

Berger forced himself to smile. "Of course you do, because you're such a smart fellow, Hobinger! What is the reason of it?"

"Well with you, Dr. Berger, I can--naturally enough--talk about the matter," replied the warder flattered, "although you are the prisoner's counsel and a friend of the Chief Justice. But in 1848 you made great speeches and were always on the side of the people; you will not betray me, Dr. Berger. Well--naturally enough--it is the old story: there is no such thing as equality in this world! If she, in there, were a servant-girl who had been led astray by a servant-man, not a soul would trouble their heads about her! But she is an educated person, and what is the princ.i.p.al thing--her seducer is a Count--that alters matters. Of course she had to be condemned--naturally enough--because the law requires it, but afterwards every care is taken of her, and if she were to get off with a slight punishment I, for one, shouldn't be surprised.

Of course the Governor says that that's nonsense; if it were a case of favouritism he says, Herr von Werner would have behaved differently to her; the Vice Chief Justice, he says, has a very keen scent for favouritism; you, Hobinger, he says--naturally enough--are an a.s.s! But I know what I know, and since his Lordship has taken the trouble to come, not in a general inspection, but on a special visit that is lasting longer than anything that has ever been heard or dreamt of, I am quite convinced that it is not I, but on the contrary, the Governor...."

But the crafty fellow did not allow this disrespect to his superior to pa.s.s his lips, but contented himself by triumphantly concluding: "Naturally enough--is it not, Dr. Berger?"

Berger thought it best to give no definite answer. If this chatter-box were to confide his suspicions to the other prison officials, it would at least be the most harmless interpretation and therefore he only said: "You think too much, Hobinger. That has often proved dangerous to many men."

Another half hour had gone by and Berger's anxiety and impatience reached the highest pitch. He was uncertain whether to put a favourable or an unfavourable interpretation upon this long stay of Sendlingen's, and even if he had succeeded in touching his child's heart, yet any further talk in this place and under these conditions was a danger. How great a danger, Berger was soon to see plainly enough.

The artful Hobinger was slinking about near the cell more and more restlessly. Only Berger's presence kept him from listening at the key-hole, or from opening the little peep-hole at the door, through which, un.o.bserved by the prisoner, he could see the inside of every cell.

The desire was getting stronger and stronger; his fingers itched to press the spring that would open it. At last, just as Berger had turned his back, he succ.u.mbed to his curiosity; the little wooden door flew open noiselessly--he was going to fix his eyes in the opening....

At that moment Berger happened to turn round. "What are you doing there?" he cried in such a way that the man started and stepped back.

In a second Berger was beside him, had seized his arms and flung him aside. "What impertinence!" he cried.

The warder was trembling in every limb. "For G.o.d's sake," he begged, "don't ruin me. I only wanted to see whether--whether his Lordship was all right."

"That's a lie!" cried Berger with intentional loudness. "You have dared----"

He did not require to finish the sentence; his object was attained: Sendlingen opened the door and came out of the cell. His face bore once more its wonted expression of kindly repose; he seemed to have recovered complete mastery of himself.

"You can lock up again," he said to the warder. He seemed to understand what had just pa.s.sed for he asked no questions.

Still Hobinger thought it necessary to excuse himself. "My Lord,"

he stammered, "I only wanted to do my duty. It sometimes happens that--that criminals become infuriated and attack the visitors."

"Does that poor creature in here strike you as being dangerous?" asked Sendlingen. It seemed to Berger almost unnatural that he could put forth the effort to say this, nay more, that he could at the same time force a smile.

"My Lord----"

"Never mind, Hobinger! You were perhaps a little inquisitive, but that shall be overlooked in consideration of your former good conduct.

Besides, prisoners are allowed no secrets, at all events after their sentence." Turning to Berger he continued: "She must be taken to the Infirmary this afternoon, it is a necessity. Have you anything else to do here? No? Well, come back with me."

It all sounded so calm, so business-like--Berger could hardly contain his astonishment. He would never have believed his friend capable of such strength and especially after such a night--after such an interview! "I admire your strength of nerve," cried he when they got out into the street. "That was a fearful moment."

"Indeed it was!" agreed Sendlingen, his voice trembling for the first time. "If the fellow had cast one single look through the peep-hole, we should have both been lost! Fancy Hobinger, the warder, seeing the Chief Justice with a criminal in his arms!"

"Ah then, it came to that?"

"Should I otherwise be so calm? I am calm because I have now an object again, because I see a way of doing my duty. Oh, George, how right you were: happy indeed am I that I live and can pay my debt."

"What do you think of doing?"

"First of all the most important thing: to preserve her life, to prepare her for life. As I just said, she shall be allotted a cell in the Infirmary and have a patient's diet. I may do this without dereliction of duty: I should have to take such measures with anyone else if I knew the circ.u.mstances as accurately as I do in this case."

"But you will not be able to visit her too often in the Infirmary,"

objected Berger.

"Certainly not," replied Sendlingen. "I see that the danger is too great, and I told her so. Yes, you were right in that too: it is no secondary consideration whether our relationship remains undiscovered or not. I cannot understand how it was that I did not see this before: why, as I now see, _everything_ depends upon that. And I see things clearly now; this interview has worked a miracle in me, George--it has rent the veil before my eyes, it has dispelled the mist in my brain. I know I can see Victorine but seldom. On the other hand Brigitta will be with her daily: for she is a member of the 'Women's Society,' and it will strike n.o.body if she specially devotes herself to my poor child."