"Light! light!" was the cry. "We want light!"
"Quick, George!" said the superintendent, hastening on before me with such rapid strides that I had difficulty in keeping up with him. We passed through the open door into the wide hall, where we found the sergeant in lively dispute with the inspector and half-a-dozen overseers.
"He will tell you that I am right," I heard the brave old man cry. "One must be a bear with seven senses; not able to tell a tooth-pick from a barn-door! In the name of three million devils, light all the lanterns!"
"Yes; light all the lanterns," said the superintendent, coming up.
The men stepped respectfully back, only the Inspector said sullenly: "There is no reason for breaking the regular rule of the house, Herr Superintendent; and the men know that there is no reason; but they take advantage of the chance--that is all."
"Perhaps not quite all, Herr Müller," said the superintendent. "We two, you and I, have not been sitting with a hundred others in a locked room in the dark--or as good as in the dark--and in a night like this when it is as if the end of the world had come. Fear, like courage, is contagious. Follow me, you and Süssmilch, and two others to light the lanterns."
He did not name me: he may have thought it a matter of course that I would follow him. We turned into the corridor and reached the door which led to the great ward, the windows of which we had passed. "Light! light!" they were still shrieking inside, and heavy blows fell upon the oaken door, which cracked at intervals as if they were trying to burst it open.
"Open!" said the superintendent to the turnkey.
The man cast a stealthy look at the inspector, who looked sullenly at the ground.
"Open!" repeated the superintendent.