CHAPTER XXIX.
His eyes fastened on the floor, with measured steps Landolin entered the room. He seemed about to turn to the jury box, but the keeper laid hold of his arm, and motioned him to the prisoner's dock.
When he reached it he straightened himself with a violent effort, and looked calmly around; but he must have felt something like a veil before his eyes, for he repeatedly drew his hands over them. He saw his son Peter, who nodded to him, but he only answered with a slight motion of his head. He recognized men and women from his and neighboring villages; but Cushion-Kate's red kerchief was not to be seen.
He surveyed the jury with a keen scrutiny. He knew them all. They all stared at him, but no one of them gave him to understand, by so much as a motion of the eyelids: I know you and am friendly to you. The miller was not on the jury.
Who is foreman?
Titus. A red and white variegated pink lies before him on the desk. Now he takes it up and presses it to his large nose. The farmer of Tollhof, called the jester, who sits beside him, hands him an open snuff-box and says something. It is evidently, "Landolin is very much changed." Titus nods, takes a pinch of snuff, and sneezes loudly. The host of the Ritter inn, who is seated on the front bench, turns around, and says, "Your health!" and whispers something to the lumberman, Dietler. Who knows that the fickle host has not abandoned Landolin as a dead man, and commenced paying court to Titus! The other members of the jury are most all well-to-do, comfortable farmers--among them Walderjörgli's son, dressed in the old-time costume, with a red vest--have folded their large hands upon the desks, and look steadily before them.
The solemn, impressive ceremony of taking the oath is over; the witnesses are sent out of the court-room; the charge is read. While the reading is going on, the counselor drums with a large pencil on a volume of the statutes before him. It may be he is gently playing a tune, for he keeps perfect time. He is a young man with a heavy moustache, which he smooths incessantly; and an unframed eye-glass, attached to a broad, black ribbon, is fastened on his left eye. There is something in the appearance of the counselor that suggests a soldierly combativeness, and, in truth, he is an officer of the Landwehr. The glance through the eye-glass, which sparkles strangely, is often turned upon Landolin, and Landolin is uneasy under it. He would like to say: "Please put the glass down," but he may not.
Landolin's lawyer has risen to his feet, and leans on the railing of the prisoner's dock. His hands are thrust in his pantaloon pockets. Sometimes he turns his head and exchanges a few brief words with Landolin.
The charge is manslaughter.
The witnesses are called; and before the first one appears, the lawyer for the defense announces that he has telegraphed for the district physician, for the purpose of obtaining his professional opinion regarding Vetturi's frailty.