The chief councillor made a sign that the interview was at an end, but the clerk remained.
“All that we want,” the chief councillor resumed, “is to form an opinion from inside knowledge of whether this innovator is likely to cause more pain or more pleasure if he gains a hearing. Can you advise us? any particle of knowledge of his inner life, apart from his public professions, is valuable.”
“There is a singular fact which I should like to tell you of, as it has been somewhat of a burden to me.”
The chief councillor made a sign of assent, and the clerk told him about the child, and how it had been preserved.
“And with this child,” he said, “he and I sit when the day’s work is done.”
“It is indeed a strange story,” said the chief councillor; “you are quite right in telling me. I was sure you were one on whose discretion confidence might be placed. You have given me the highest proof I could have expected. The bearings of this matter must be thought over.”
That evening, as the clerk entered the room where they lived, the student was leaning over the child with a wearied expression. He went up to him and laid his hand on his shoulder. The child looked up at them and laughed. It was quite happy despite the apparent struggles of its breathing. The student looked at his companion’s face. His weariness vanished at once, and a strong warm light came into his eyes.
“You seem oppressed, my friend. I know you regret the way in which all the wise and important people you have brought here look on me, and you must feel some sorrow for the partial loss of esteem they have showed you in consequence. Can I help you to bear it?”
At that moment the door opened, and a messenger came in and gave the clerk a sealed packet. He opened it and saw that it was his appointment to the vacant seat in the council chamber. But his face did not brighten. He answered his companion moodily, and thus the day ended.