He remained silent for a minute and seemed to be fighting a violent inner battle; then he turned rapidly to the judge.
- “Can I be alone with you for a moment?”
The Counsellors looked embarrassed, but yet retracted at the commanding wink of their chief.
- “Now, what do you demand?”
- “Your attitude, yesterday, Mister High Officer, has never encouraged me into confession, that’s why I have defied your authority. The modesty with which you deal with me, today, has given me confidence and respect. I believe that you are a noble man.”
- “What do you have to tell me?”
- "I see that you are a noble man. I have wished, long time ago, to become a man like you. May I have your word?”
- “Where will this lead us to?”
- “This head of yours is grey and honourable. You have been for long in the world, have gone through real sufferings. Right? You must have become more human?”
- “Sir, why all this questioning!?”
- “You are a step away from eternity, soon... soon you will need to call for God's mercy. He will not refuse it to a human being.....Don’t you guess anything yet? With whom do you think you are talking to?”
- “What is this? You are scaring me!”
- “Don’t you guess it yet? Please, write to your Prince, how I did put myself into this situation, and that I, by free choice, was my betrayer, that God may once be gracious to him as he is to me now. Old man, please put this request to your Prince on my behalf, and let a tear fall on your report: I am the Boss.”
A walk under the lime trees
Wollmar and Edwin, two friends who live together in a peaceful hermitage in which they have retreated from the tumult of the busy world, discuss during a walk about the remarkable destinies of their lives in full philosophical leisure. Edwin, the fortunate one, embraced the world with a joyful tenderness which put the gloomier Wollmar into a miserable mood because of his misfortune. An alley of lime trees were the favourite place of their debates. At one time, they walked again there on a lovely May day; I account the following discussion:
Edwin
The weather is so beautiful, the whole nature is cheering up, and you are so thoughtful, Wollmar?
Wollmar
Alone me, please! You know this is my way to corrupt your mood!
Edwin
But is it then possible to be so much disgusted by the cup of joy?
Wollmar
If one finds a spin in it; why not? You see, Nature depicts itself to you, now, as a young lady with red cheeks on her wedding day. To me, it seems like an old matron with exaggerated red make-up on her yellow-green cheeks and with inherited diamonds in her hair.
How she ridicules herself in this Sunday attire! These are just old clothes worn already a thousand times. Even this green, flowing dress train of hers, she wore already before Deucalion, just as perfumed and just as colourful!
For thousand years, she has only fed herself with the proceeds from death bulletins, made artifice from the bones of her own children and lightened such decay with blinding tinsel.
She is an indecent monster who has been a thousand times warmed up from her own death, who fattens herself, patches together her rags and makes them well into new fabric, carries it to the market and again, makes them into nasty rags! Young man, do you know very well in what society you are maybe, now, walking!? Did you ever think, indeed, that Nature's endless circle is your forefathers' tomb, that the winds which bring you the scents of the lime trees, maybe blow to your nose the dispersed force of Arminius, that in the refreshing source you maybe tasting the crushing bones of our great Henry!?
Pfff! Pfff! Should maybe the Roman conquerors who divided the majestic world into three parts, just the same way young boys share a bouquet among them and put them afterwards on their hats, extort from the throat of their weakened descent a moaning opera aria!? The atom which gave divine thoughts to Plato’s mind, which made Titus' heart tremble with pity, shudders maybe, now, with the ardour of an animal in Sardanapale's veins, or will be dispersed by the ravens in the carrion of a recently hanged local thief. Disgraceful! Disgraceful!
We have made our Harlequin masks from the sanctified ashes of our fathers; we have fed our bell hood with the wisdom of the ancient times. You seem to find that amusing, Erwin?
Edwin
Forgive me! Your observations remind me of comical scenes. How? Picture our bodies wandering away from our spirits, as people affirm in these laws! Imagine the same bodies, after the death of the machine, still keeping the administration under the command of the soul; the same way as the spirits of the deceased repeat the tasks of their previous life, quae cura fuit vivis, eadem sequitur tellure repostos.
Wollmar
Hence, Lycurgus' ashes may still lie, until now and for eternity, in the ocean!?
Edwin
Do you hear, there, the voice of the tender Philomele complaining? As if she were the urn keeping Tibullus’s ashes, which could sing so tenderly as she does?
Maybe the sublime Pindar is ascending with every eagle into the blue firmament? Maybe is vibrating in every courting Zephyr an atom of Anacreon? Who can tell if it is not the bodies of their former seducers which fly in tender little flocks of powder into their mistresses' hairlocks? If it is not the usurer's remains which are captured within the hundred year old rust on the buried coins?
If it is not the Polygraphs' bodies which are damned to be melted into letters, or turned into paper; to groan, now, eternally under the pressure of the printing machine and to help eternalize the nonsense of their colleagues? Who can prove to me that our neighbour's painful kidney stone is not the rest of an unskilled doctor who, as punishment, now guards like an uninvited doorman the formerly mistreated bladder, condemned to this dishonourable jail, until a doctor's consecrated hand frees the cursed Prince? Do you see, Wollmar!? From precisely the cup which created bitter angers in you, my mood creates merry jokes!
Wollmar
Edwin! Edwin! How you diffuse earnestness again with a laughing joke! People say such things about our Princes who believe they can provoke some destructive effect with just a wink of an eye. People say that about our beauties who want to fool our wisdom with some colours painted on their faces. People say that about the sweet little gentlemen who make of a handful of blond hair into an object of worship of their God! Do they only care how roughly the shovels of the grave diggers stroke Yorik's skull!? What good is a woman with all her beauty, if the great Caesar is reduced to repair a fissuring wall to protect himself from the wind?
Edwin
But what is the meaning of all this?
Wollmar
Miserable catastrophe of a miserable farce! Do you not see it, Edwin? The destiny of the soul is written in the matter. Now, make for yourself the happy conclusion.
Edwin
Calm down, Wollmar! You are getting all excited. Do you know how careless you were, there!
Wollmar
Let me go on! Good things have nothing to shy away from inspection.
Edwin
Wollmar should only indulge in inspection when he is in a happier mood!
Wollmar
Oh, come on! There you are opening again, the most dangerous wounds. According to you, wisdom is like a talkative laundress who goes cleaning in every house and adapts with dexterity her talk to any possible mood: denying even grace to unfortunate people, approving even malevolence in the fortunate ones. A stomachache