His friend then returned at once to the preparations for the jury, saying,—
"One other thing will be hard to arrange. I think that we ought to include the negro Adams."
Eric doubted whether Sonnenkamp would consent to this; but Weidmann repeated that the blacks had precisely the same right to judge the whites, as the latter had to judge them. Eric promised to propose this, but begged Weidmann, meanwhile, not to make his participation in the business dependent on this.
While they were sitting cheerfully at the table, came a new guest, the Doctor. He had been attending a patient in the neighborhood, and was in high spirits, having just performed a successful operation. Soon turning to Eric, he said,—
"There you have an example. Oh, if we could only prescribe a sedative that would quiet for weeks or months!"
He told them about the man whom he had just left, adding,—
"See how much the fine doings of nobility and virtue signify. The man from whose estate I came is an illegitimate Royal son, and his children are already allied by marriage with the clan of high society. So, in twenty years, no one will ask whence came the wealth of our Roland."
When he had heard of the jury, and how his assistance was taken for granted, and as a fixed fact, he cried,—
"Yes! That is the way with the old tyrants! They love a mock burial. But you won't see me in the funeral-procession. Do you really believe that he will submit to your decree? His only object is to compromise other men. He is deceiving you all; and you, dear Dournay, have interfered enough on this man's behalf. I advise you to leave matters as they are. You are trying to help a negro, no, a negro-dealer, to wash himself white."
The Doctor, as he proclaimed his opinion, gave his jolly laugh, which no one could hear without laughing too.