"Very fine—very good. You are a thinker. I myself believe that the negro is better off with a master. But how is it when you see with your own eyes the child sold away from the mother, and in that way every tie of family forcibly torn asunder?"
"But, your Highness, that happens very seldom, or rather hardly ever," replied Sonnenkamp with great composure, "for it would be a material disadvantage, and would make the slaves less inclined to work; but should it happen, any sentimental feeling about the matter would be only narrowing the sentimentalism from a wider sphere to a special case. A brute that has outgrown the care of its parents knows the parents no more, mates do not know each other after the brooding time is past. I will not say-—-"
"What is it?" said the Prince, interrupting him suddenly.
The white-haired valet entered.
"Why am I interrupted?"
"His Excellency the Minister begs your Highness to open this immediately."
The Prince opened the letter, and took out a printed sheet; a red line ran along the margin of it like a streak of blood. The Prince began to read, he looked up from the page towards Sonnenkamp: he read on farther, the paper cracked and trembled in his hand; he laid it down on the table and said:—
"Confounded audacity!" Sonnenkamp was standing at the table, and it seemed to him as if the two telegraphic knobs had changed into eyes, one white and one black, and from the green table a fabulous creature of strange form was shaping itself,—a queer monster with a white and a black eye, and that it was emerging from the deep, moving along sluggishly, and staggering from side to side. As if in the frenzy of fever he sat there collecting all his strength. The Prince, looking now at the paper, now at Sonnenkamp, at last walked up to him and held out the paper; the rustle of it was like the stab of a knife as he said:—
"Here, read it—read it."
Printed in large letters on it were these words marked with red ink:—