I a prosecutor or was I a prisoner? Never was
a knotty point more patiently investigated, but,
alas! most hopelessly. The intense interest of
the inquiry, however, served totally to withdraw
me from my previous readings, and " the grey
sister" was shocked to see the mark in my book
remain for days long unchanged. She took
courage at length to address me on the subject,
and even went so far as to ask if Satan himself
had not taken occasional opportunity of her
absence to come and sit, beside my bed? I
eagerly caught at the suggestion, and said it
was as she suspected; that he never gave me a
moment's peace, now, torturing me with
menaces, now, asking for explanations, how this
could be reconciled with that, and why such a
thing should not have prevented such another?
Instead of expressing any astonishment at my
confession, she appeared to regard it as one of
the most ordinary incidents, and referred me to
my books, and especially to St. Francis, to see
that these were usual and every-day snares in
use. She went further, and in her zeal actually
showed a sort of contempt, for the Evil One in
his intellectual capacity that startled me; showing
how St. Jude always got the better of him,
and that he was a mere child when opposed by
the craft of St. Anthony of Pavia.
"It is the truth, "said she, "always conquers
him. "Whenever, by any chance, he can catch
you concealing or evading, trying to make out
reasons that are inconsistent, or affecting intentions
that you had not, then, he is your master."
There was such an air of matter of fact about
all she said, that when—our first conversation on
this theme over—she left the room, a cold sweat
broke over me at the thought that my next visitor
would be the "Lebendige Satan" himself.
It had come to this, that I had furnished my
own mind with such a subject of terror that I
could not endure to be alone, and lay there
trembling at every noise, and shrinking at every
shadow that crossed the lloor. Many and many
times, as the dupe of my own deceivings, did I
find myself talking aloud in self-defence, averring
that I wanted to be good, and honest, and faithful,
and that whenever I lapsed from the right
path, it was in moments of erring reason, sure
to be followed after by sincere repentance.
It was after an access of this kind, "the grey
sister" found me one morning bathed in cold
perspiration, my eyes fixed, my lips livid, and
my fingers fast knotted together.
"I see," said she, " he has given you a severe
turn of it to-day. What was the temptation?"
For a long while I refused to answer; I was
weak as well as irritable, and I desired peace,
but she persisted, and pressed hard to know
what subject we had been discussing together.
"I'll tell you, then,'' said I, fiercely, for a
sudden thought, prompted perhaps by a sense
of anger, flashed across me: " he has just told
me that you are his sister."
She screamed out wildly, and, rushing to the
end of the gallery, threw herself at the foot of a
little altar.
Satisfied with my vengeance, I lay back and
said no more. I may have dropped into a half-
slumber afterwards, for I remember nothing till,
just as evening began to fall, one of the servants
came up and placed a table and two chairs
beside my bed, with writing materials and a
book, and shortly after two men dressed
in black, and with square black caps on their
heads, took their places at the table and conversed
together in low whispers.
Resolving to treat them with a show of complete
indifference, I turned away and pretended
to go asleep.
"The Herr Staats Procurator Schlässel has
come to read the act of accusation," said the
shorter man, who seemed a subordinate; " take
care that you pay proper respect to the law and
the authorities."
"Let him read away," said I, with a wave of
my hand, " I will listen."
In a low, sing-song, dreary tone, he began to
recite the titles and dignities of the Emperor.
I listened for a while, but as he got down to the
Banat and Herzegovine, sleep overcame me, and
I dozed away, waking up to hear him detailing
what seemed his own greatness, how he was
" Ober" this and " Unter" that, till I fairly lost
myself in the maze of his description. Judging
from the monotonous, business-like persistence
of his manner, that he had a long road before
him, I wrapped myself comfortably in the bedclothes,
closed my eyes, and soon slept.
There were two candles burning on the table
when I next opened my eyes, and my friend the
procurator was reading away as before. I tried
to interest myself for a second or two; I rubbed
my eyes and endeavoured to be wakeful; but I
could not, and was fast settling down into my
former state, when certain words struck on my
ear and aroused me:
"' The well-born Herr von Rigges further
denounces the prisoner Harpar— '"
"Read that again," cried I, aloud, "for I
cannot clearly follow what you say."
"' The well-born Herr von Rigges,' " repeated
he, " ' further denounces the prisoner Harpar as
one of a sect banded together for the darkest
purposes of revolution!'"
"Forgive my importunity, Herr Procurator,"
said I, in my most insinuating tone, " but in
compassion for the weakness of faculties sorely
tried by fever, will you tell me who is Rigges?"
"Who is Rigges? Is that your question?"
said he, slowly.
"Yes, sir; that was my question."
He turned over several pages of his voluminous
report, and proceeded to search for
the passage he wanted.
"Here it is," said he, at last; and he read
out: " ' The so-called Rigges, being a well-born
and not-the-less-from-a-mercantile-object-engaging
pursuit highly-placed and much-honoured
subject of her Majesty the Queen of England, of
the age of forty-two years and eight months, unmarried,
and professing the Protestant religion.'
Is that sufficient?"
"Quite so; and now, will you, with
equal urbanity, inform me who is Harpar?"
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