A mock smile played on the assessor's pale countenance as he said this. Siegwart did not observe it; but Frank did.
"If I understand you rightly, Herr Assessor, the clergy are only state officials in clerical dress."
The assessor nodded his head condescendingly, and continued to soak a sardine in olive-oil and take it between his knife and fork as Frank began to speak. The fine-feeling Frank felt nettled at this contempt, and immediately chastised Hamm for his want of politeness.
"I take your nod for an affirmative answer to my question," said he. "You will allow me to observe that your view of the position and purpose of the clergy must lead to the most absurd consequences."
The assessor turned an ashy color. He threw himself back on the sofa and looked at the speaker with scornful severity.
"My view is that of every enlightened statesman of the nineteenth century," said he proudly. "How can you, a mere novice in state matters, come to such a conclusion."
"I come to it by sound thinking," said Frank haughtily. "If the clergy are only the servants of the state, they are bound in the exercise of their functions to follow the instructions of the state."
"Very natural," said the official.
"If the government think a change in the church necessary, say the separation of the school from the church, the abolition of festivals, the appointing of infidel professors to theological chairs, the compiling of an enlightened catechism--and all these relate to the spirit of the times or the supposed welfare of the state--then the clergy must obey."
"That is self-evident," said the assessor.