“You do not repudiate the remark?” asked the magistrate of Schrotter in his most biting tones.
“Your expression is not very happily chosen. By repudiating I understand the declaring of a fact to be false when we know it to be true. I am not in the habit of doing that, nor should I suppose it of you, Herr Staatsanwalt.”
“I need no instruction from you,” the other returned angrily.
“It would seem so, however” Schrotter calmly rejoined.
The magistrate grunted several times and then asked, after a pause, during which he was particularly busy with his ear:
“You admit the statement, then?”
“Not altogether. It is true that I said the attempt on the emperor’s life had no general significance, but I meant by that and the rest of what I said, that if the political parties should make this isolated crime (committed by an undoubtedly insane person) the excuse for adopting measures inimical to the liberty of the public in general, they would be doing something both unjustifiable and reprehensible.”
“Can he have said that?” asked the magistrate, turning to Patke.
“I don’t know. I only know what I said just now.”
Renewed grunting, renewed digging in the ear and turning over of papers. “Hm—hm,” he muttered to himself testily, “that is not enough. It is too indefinite, in spite of strong grounds for suspicion.” Then he looked up, and in a tone which was meant to convey as much scorn as possible, he asked Schrotter—“You played a part in the political events of 1848?”
“Yes, and the recollection of it is the pride of my life.”
“I did not ask you about that. And you are at present the chairman of a district society of progressive opinions?”
“I have that honor.”
“There is nothing further against you. And you, Dr. Eynhardt, you refused the Iron Cross in the late campaign?”
“Yes.”
“You were discharged from the army without comment?”
“Yes.”
“For declining a duel,” observed Schrotter.
“Dr. Eynhardt is of age, and can answer for himself. You have attended Socialist meetings?”
“Only once.”
“And made speeches?”
“One speech?”
“And that was directed against Socialism,” said Schrotter again.
The magistrate grew lobster-red in the face.
“It is really scandalous,” he cried, quivering with rage, “that I am repeatedly obliged to remind a man of your position that he is only to answer when spoken to. Why didn’t you say yourself, Dr. Eynhardt, that you had spoken against the Socialists?”
“Because you did not ask me,” answered Wilhelm, with a gentle smile.
After a slight pause the magistrate resumed—“You are on friendly terms with a Russian named Dr. Barinskoi?”
“You can hardly call it that. I did know him, though not exactly in a friendly way, but for two years I have quite lost sight of him.”