"I will not speak in my own defence!" said the prisoner.
"Pray consider," urged the young lawyer; "the court will listen to any thing you may say. These gentlemen have a painful duty to fulfil; but they are far from wishing to take your life. If you can give us any excuses, do so, by all means."
"It is provided, in Chapter 6. of the Articles, that the prisoner shall not be wheedled into a confession," said Zatonyi, with an expression of profound wisdom.
"Gentlemen," said Viola, at length, "may God bless you for your kindness, and for your wishing to help me! but, you see, it's all in vain. There are, indeed, many things I might say in defence; and when I go to my God, who knows all and every thing, I am sure He'll judge me leniently; but there is no salvation for me in this world. You see, your worships, there is no use of my telling you that, once upon a time, I was an honest man, as every man in the village of Tissaret can prove. What is the use of my saying that I became a robber not from my own free will, but because I was forced to it; that I never harmed any poor man; that I never took more from the gentry, in the way of robbing, than what was necessary to keep life in my body; and that I never killed any one, unless it was in self-defence? Am I the less punishable for saying all this? No. Whatever my comrades may have done is scored down to my account. I am a robber, and a dead man."
"All this may serve to modify the sentence. But what do you mean by saying that you were forced to be a robber?"
"Ask his worship, the justice of the district," said the prisoner, looking at Mr. Skinner: "he knows what made me a robber." And he proceeded to tell the tale of his first crime.
"It's true; it's as true as Gospel," sighed Kishlaki. "I came to Tissaret on the day after the thing had happened, when the sheriff told me all about it."
"Nihil ad rem!" said Zatonyi.
"But what does it avail me?" continued the prisoner, whose pale face became flushed as he spoke: "what can it avail me to tell you all the revolting cruelties which were practised against me, and which to think of gives me pain? Am I the less a robber? Will these things cause you to spare me? No; I ought to have suffered the stripes, and kissed the hands of my tyrant; or I ought to have left my wife in her darkest hour, because nothing would serve my lady but that I should drive her to Dustbury. How, then, could I, a good-for-nothing peasant[26], dare to love my wife! How could I dare to resist when the justice told them to tie me to the whipping-post! But I dared to do it. I was fool enough to fancy that I, though a peasant, had a right to remain with my wife; I could not understand that a poor man is a dog, which any body may beat and kick. Here I am, and you may hang me."