“The parents?”
“Yes. It’s not only the young people—their parents as well don’t trouble about God nowadays. They act as if He didn’t exist.”
I looked out onto the street. The old woman came out of the butcher’s shop and turned right towards the baker’s. So the butcher had no change either!
The street was empty. And I was troubled by a sudden disturbing thought: it was not by mere chance that the butcher had no change. Chance alone did not keep me waiting here.
I looked up at the tall grey houses.
“If only one knew where God lives!” I said.
“He lives everywhere—everywhere where He is not forgotten,” came the old man’s reply. “He dwells here with us, that’s why we never quarrel!”
I caught my breath.
What was that?
Still the voice of the old man?
No, not his, but another voice.
Who was speaking to me?
I did not turn my head.
Again the voice came:
“When you are called as witness and name my name in the oath, do not conceal the fact that it was you who broke open the box.”
The box!
No, for then I shall only be punished because I shielded the thief.
“Do this!”
But I shall lose my work, my daily bread.
“Then you must lose it, rather than bring about a new injustice!”
But my parents? I am their only support.
“Shall I show you your childhood?”
My childhood?
My scolding mother, my angry father, for ever quarrelling. No, You did not dwell here, You only passed by—Your coming brought no joy …
I was close to tears.
“Tell them,” the voice came once more. “Tell them it was you who broke open the box. Do my will and grieve me no more.”
26. THE COMPASS
THE TRIAL WORE ON. THE COURT HAD PRACTICALLY finished with the witnesses now. The woodsmen, the police, the local magistrate, the sergeant, had all testified. The baker N, too, and his wife Elizabeth, had told us all they knew. It amounted to nothing.
The baker hadn’t been able to resist mentioning the opinion I had voiced about the negroes. He threw out dark hints against my seditious beliefs, while the President watched him doubtfully—though not daring to interrupt him.
Z’s mother was the next to be called. She left her place and went into the box. The President explained to her that she was entitled, if she chose, to decline to testify. But she wished to.
She had removed her veil.
Z was a quiet, but at times a violently tempered child, she told the court, in her rather unpleasant voice—and it was from his father that he had inherited his temper. He had had no illnesses—apart from the harmless ailments that children usually go through. Nor was there any trace of mental disease in the family, either on his father’s side or hers.
“Your honour,” she interrupted suddenly. “May I ask my son a question?”
“Certainly.”
She went over to the table, took the compass, and turned to Z.
“How long have you had a compass?” she asked, and her voice trembled with scorn. “You’ve never had one. We had an argument about it before you went to camp, because you were saying everybody had one. ‘I’m the only one without a compass,’ you said, ‘and I shall get lost without one.’ So how did you come by this one?”
Z stared at her.
She turned to the President in triumph.
“It isn’t his compass. Whoever lost this compass is responsible for the crime.”
A murmur went through the court-room.
“Do you hear what your mother says?” the President asked Z.
The boy was still staring at her.
“Yes,” came the slow answer. “My mother’s lying.”
The defending counsel sprang up.
“I propose the appointment of a commission to examine the accused’s mental condition.”
The President reassured him that the court would take up the question later.
Z’s mother returned to the boy’s side.
“I’m lying? You said—?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not lying. I’ve never in my life told a lie, but you’ve always lied, always. I’m telling the truth, and only the truth, but you still want to shield this strumpet, this prostitute—”
“She’s not—”
“Hold your tongue,” shrieked the mother, hysterical by now. “You think of nothing but that poisonous wretch, you never think of your mother, your poor mother.”
“The girl’s worth more than you are!”
“Quiet!” cried the President, condemning Z to two days for insulting a witness.
“Unprecedented!” he deplored. “The way you treat your mother! It reveals a lot.”
Z lost control of himself, and the temper that he had inherited from his father broke out.
“She isn’t a mother! She isn’t. She’s never bothered about me, only about her servants. Ever since I’ve been born, I’ve heard her hateful voice nagging at the maids in the kitchen.”
“He always takes the girls’ side, like my husband, your honour.” She laughed shortly.
“Don’t laugh!” roared Z. “Do you remember Thekla?”
“And what of Thekla?”
“She was fifteen, and you wore her down as nobody else could. She had to go on ironing till eleven at night and be up in the morning at half-past four—and nothing to eat, either. And she ran away. Do you remember?”
“Yes, she used to steal!”
“So that she could get out of it all. I was six then, I can still remember Dad coming home and telling me that the poor girl had been caught. She was sent to a reformatory. And it was your fault, only yours.”
“Mine?”
“My father said so.”
“Your father said a great many things.”
“But he never lied. You used to have terrible quarrels and he wouldn’t sleep at home. Do you remember? And Eve’s another one like Thekla—near enough. No, mother, I’ve no love for you now.”
When the outburst had finished, it was very quiet in the court-room.
“Thank you, madam,” said the President.
27. THE BOX
MY TURN NOW.
It was already a quarter to five.
I was sworn as a witness. I swore by God to tell the truth to the best of my ability, and to conceal nothing.
Nothing.
I noticed a certain tension in the room.
I turned round and caught sight of Eve.
She was sitting beside the wardress. Once, I had wanted to see her eyes. When I’ve told them everything, I thought, I’ll look. I can’t now. I must turn my back to her, for before me I saw a crucifix: His Son.
I glanced at Z.
He was smiling. Was she too smiling, behind my back?
I answered the President’s questions. He touched upon the negroes again—yes, we understood each other. I gave good characters to N and to Z too. The President was discharging me from the witness-box when I interrupted him.
“One moment, your honour—if I may.”
“Please.”
“That box, in which Z kept his diary. It wasn’t N who broke it open.”
“Not N? Who was it, then?”
“Myself. I opened the box with a piece of wire.”
My words produced an immense effect. The President dropped his pencil, counsel jumped up, Z stared at me open-mouthed, while his mother screamed and the baker’s hand flew to his heart, his face as pale as dough.
And Eve?
I don’t know what she did.
I was aware only of a general uneasiness behind me. Amid murmurs and whispers, the public prosecutor rose as if hypnotized, slowly raising his finger in my direction.
“You?”
The word took him a long moment to pronounce.
“Yes,” I answered, amazed at my own calm,
and inexpressibly relieved. I told the court everything now—why I had broken open the box and why I hadn’t admitted as much to Z immediately. I told them I had been ashamed to—and not only ashamed, but too much of a coward in the bargain. I told them why I’d read the diary and why I had not informed the police about the theft—because I wanted to frustrate those plans, if I could.
Now I noticed that the prosecutor was beginning to take my words down, but I went on, unhindered. I omitted nothing. Adam and Eve, the dark clouds, the man in the moon, all—and when I’d come to a close, the prosecutor stood up.
“I should like to impress upon the witness that he must be fully aware of the grave consequences of his interesting testimony. The prosecution retains the right to accuse him of misleading the authorities, and of being an accessory to theft.”
I made him a slight bow.
“I swore to conceal nothing,” I said.
And the baker roared out:
“My son’s death lies at his door—his only!”
A sudden heart attack necessitated his being helped from the court-room. His wife raised a threatening arm.
“Beware of God!” she cried to me. “Beware of God!”
But I had no fear now of God.
I recognized the aversion, the loathing, around me. All eyes were charged with it—save two that rested on me, two eyes as still as the dark pools in the little woods of my homeland.
Eve …
28. EXPELLED FROM PARADISE
EVE WAS NOT PUT ON OATH.
“Do you know what this is?” asked the President, holding out the compass.
“Yes,” she answered. “That shows the direction.”
“Do you know to whom it belongs?”
“It’s not mine.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not lying. I’d like to tell the truth like the teacher did.”
Like me? The public prosecutor smiled ironically. The counsel for the defence watched Eve every second.
“Go on, then,” ordered the President.
“When I found Z near our caves, N came along too.”
“You were there?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you only tell us that now? Why did you keep lying throughout the examination? You said you weren’t present when Z struck N.”
“He didn’t strike N.”
“He didn’t? Who did?”
The tension grew even greater. Every one in the room leaned forward, as if they would drive her into the earth.
Z’s face was chalk white.
“Z and N were having a terrible struggle. N was stronger. He threw Z down off the rock. I thought, He’s done for now, and I got mad, and then it struck me he’d seen the diary and knew everything about me. I picked up a stone, that one there, and started after him. I wanted to get him on the head—yes, I wanted to right enough, but suddenly another boy, I didn’t know him, sprang out of the bushes. He took the stone off me and went on running after N. I saw him catch up and speak to him. They were just by a clear bit. He’d got the stone in his hand all the time. I hid. I was afraid they’d both be coming back. But they didn’t come back, they went off another way, N a couple of steps in front. Suddenly this other boy lifted up the stone and caught N on the head with it from behind. N fell down and didn’t move again. The other boy bent over him close, then he dragged him away. Into a ditch. He didn’t know I’d been watching. I ran back to the rock and found Z there. The crash hadn’t hurt him, his coat was a bit torn and his hands were scratched.”
The defending counsel was the first to recover his speech.
“I propose that the charge against Z be dismissed.”
“One moment, Doctor,” the President broke in, turning to Z, who was still staring at the girl like a ghost. “Do we know that she is telling the truth?”
“She is,” murmured Z.
“Then did you too see this other boy striking N?”
“No, I didn’t see it.”
“Well!” The public prosecutor breathed again and leant back reassured.
“So it was you who struck him?” observed the defence.
The girl spoke quite calmly.
“It wasn’t me.”
“We’ll come back to that,” said the President. “I’d like to hear now why you’ve concealed this until to-day, if you’re not guilty. Well?”
Both Z and the girl were silent for a moment. Then it was she, again, who spoke.
“Z took it on himself, because he thought it was me that’d killed N. He couldn’t believe it was somebody else.”
“And are we to believe that?”
She smiled again.
“I don’t know. That’s how it was, though.”
“And would you have sat quietly by and seen Z sent to prison?”
“Not quietly, sir. I’ve done enough crying. But I was so afraid of the reformatory again—and now I’ve told you he’s not guilty.”
“Why only now?”
“Because the teacher told the truth as well, I think.”
“Remarkable!” from the prosecutor.
“And what if the teacher hadn’t?” inquired the President.
“I thought,” came a sarcastic observation from the defending counsel, “I thought you loved Z. That’s very different from real love!”
There was a smile at this.
Eve faced the lawyer who had evoked it.
“No,” she said quietly. “I don’t love him.”
Z jumped up.
“I’ve never loved him,” she said, her voice a little stronger. Then she lowered her head. Z sat down again slowly, and looked at his right hand. He wanted to shield her, but she didn’t love him. He wanted to go to prison for her …
What was Z thinking of now? Of his forfeited career—as an inventor, or a mail pilot? Everything had happened amiss. Soon he would hate Eve.
29. THE FISH
“NOW,” CONTINUED THE PRESIDENT, AS THE examination of Eve proceeded. “You admit to having followed N with this stone?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you wanted to kill him?”
“But I didn’t.”
“What did you do instead?”
“I’ve already said. A boy I hadn’t seen before came up, knocked me down, and went off after N with the stone.”
“Can you describe this boy in any way?”
“He went so quick I couldn’t—”
“Aha! The Mysterious Unknown!” interpolated the prosecutor.
“Would you recognize him again?” asked the President deprecatingly.
“Perhaps. I’m not sure—only I remember now he had bright round eyes, like a fish.”
I sprang up and repeated the word.
“What—what is it?” I heard from the President.
Every one was equally astounded.
I asked myself—what?
I was thinking of that illuminated death’s head. Cold times are coming—the Age of the Fish. The soul of man is hardening till it will be like the face of a fish. Two bright, round eyes stared at me. Unblinking, lustreless.
T’s eyes.
I saw him standing at the open grave—and in the camp, too, with that same quiet, supercilious smile of scorn. Had he known all along that it was I who broke open the box? Had he too read the diary? and spied? and run after Z and N?
That strange, fixed smile.
I remained calm.
“What is it?” came the question, a second time.
Should I tell him that T was in my thoughts? Absurd. Why should T strike N dead? No motive.
“I’m sorry, your honour,” I said. “My nerves are a little on edge.”
“Understandable enough,” grinned the President.
I left the court. I knew they would acquit Z and sentence the girl. But I knew too that in the end, everything would come right.
The next day, or the next, proceedings would be instituted against me. For withholding information, and for being an accessory to theft. My position as a t
eacher would be suspended. I’d lose my bread and butter. The thought didn’t trouble me.
I might not have enough to eat.
It was comical how little anxiety I felt.
I thought of the bar where I could find Julius Caesar. It was cheap enough. But I didn’t get drunk there. I went back to my room and lay down. The fear of my room had quite gone.
Was this His dwelling now?
30. THE FISH WON’T BITE
THERE IT WAS, IN THE MORNING PAPERS.
Z, convicted on a charge of being an accessory to theft, had, in view of mitigating circumstances, received only a short sentence. But the public prosecutor had instigated criminal proceedings against the girl, the charge being first-degree murder.
“The wanton creature obstinately maintained her innocence,” wrote the crime reporter, “but it is doubtful whether anyone present was convinced in the slightest degree by her screams. It is a notorious fact that whoever lies once will lie again. Z, the accused, did not even go so far as to offer her his hand when towards the end of the proceedings she tore herself from the wardress and rushed over to him, imploring his forgiveness for having never loved him.”
Ah, he hates her now, I thought. And now she is utterly alone—still crying? Don’t cry now, Eve: I believe you. Wait, I’ll hook the fish.
I didn’t quite know how to go about it, but it seemed to me that the sooner I got in touch with him, the better.
The post that morning brought me a letter from the authorities to the effect that I must keep away from the high school until the proceedings against me had been satisfactorily concluded. I supposed I had seen the high school for the last time, since I obviously stood a scanty chance of acquittal; and in my case there were no mitigating circumstances. But all that meant nothing to me now: until I found him, I should constantly hear Eve’s cries.
A little shyly, my landlady brought in my breakfast. She’d read my testimony in the paper, and the city echoed with my name. The reporters were busy. “TEACHER AIDS THEFT” ran one of the headlines—and in one paper I found myself accused of moral guilt for the crime. No one was on my side. A good day, this, for Mr. N, the master-baker—provided the devil didn’t come for him last night.
Midday found me near the school. I dared no longer enter, waiting for the morning lessons to finish. It seemed ages before the boys came out. Some of my colleagues were among them. They looked away. And here was T, by himself. As I slowly crossed the road in his direction, he caught sight of me and hung on his step. For a moment—then he greeted me with a smile.
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