“Your name is Paul Meyerhofer, you were born at such and such a time, Protestant, etc.?” asked the judge who sat in the middle, a man with a closely-shorn head and a large, sharply-cut nose reading the dates from a big book. He spoke in a pleasant murmuring tone, but suddenly his voice grew harsh and cutting as a knife, and his eyes shot lightning at Paul.
“Before your examination, Mr. Paul Meyerhofer, I call your attention to the fact that you will have to confirm your statement by oath.”
Paul shuddered. The word oath passed through his soul like a dagger. He felt as if he must throw himself down and hide his face from all those spying eyes which were staring at him.
And then he gradually felt a strange change come over him. The staring eyes disappeared, the court vanished in mist, and the longer the clear, sharp voice of the judge was speaking to him, the more impressively he heard himself threatened with heavenly and earthly punishment, the more he felt as if he were quite alone in the big room with that man, and all his senses tended so to answer him that Elsbeth should be entirely left out of the question.
“Now is the moment--now show yourself a man!” cried a voice within him. It was a feeling very like the one he had had while sitting on the roof: his wits were sharpened, and the dull weight which pressed on him constantly sank away as if the chains with which he had been fettered were taken off.
He related in quiet words what he knew about the accused, and described his character; he also mentioned that he had felt a sort of inner resemblance between them.
When he said that, a murmur went through the court, the jury let the bits of paper fall, and two or three penknives were shut noisily.
“What happened when Mr. Douglas and your father fell out?” asked the president.
“I cannot tell you that,” he answered, in a firm voice.
“I should have to speak ill of my father,” he answered.
“What does ill mean?” asked the president. “Do you mean to imply that you fear to expose your father to punishment by law?”
Again the same murmur went through the court, and behind his back he heard the voice of his father hissing, “The degenerate rascal!” But he did not allow himself to be confused by that.