"All faithful friends are quick to suspect. Good Schanvoch, your distrust is inexplicable to me; but it must have its reason. The attack was frank, frank shall be the answer. Let us settle the question. What is your charge against me?"
"About a month ago you came to Mayence. A man of your retinue, your secretary, Morix by name and well supplied with money, gave the soldiers to drink and at the same time endeavored to irritate them against Victorin, saying to them that it was disgraceful that their general, one of the two chiefs of regenerated Gaul, should be a drunkard and a profligate. Did your secretary hold such language, yes or no? I wait for your answer."
"Proceed, friend Schanvoch, proceed—"
"Your secretary told a story that, being subsequently spread through the camp, has greatly irritated the soldiers against Victorin. This was the story: A few months ago, Victorin and several officers went to a tavern on one of the isles in the Rhine; after having drunk copiously, Victorin, excited by the wine, violated the innkeeper's wife, and she thereupon killed herself in despair—"
"Calumny!" cried Victoria. "I know and condemn my son's faults—but he is incapable of such an infamous act!"
The governor listened to me without betraying the slightest emotion. Presently he said with a smile and his habitual placidity of countenance:
"So, then, good Schanvoch, it is your opinion that, obedient to orders received from me, my secretary spread unworthy calumnies in the camp?"
"Yes. It is all done with your knowledge and consent."
"And what could be my motive?"
"You are ambitious—"