He turned to Margaret and Martina, who were whispering together about the possibility of returning to the new chateau, and laid the same injunction upon them.
“I beg and require you,” he said, “to remain also, and listen. Our opponent is very powerful, and we may be accused of having forged false proofs. In this case documents have been placed in our hands in your presence, and you must learn their contents at the same time with ourselves.”
“No no!” cried Christian; “these ladies must not be mixed up in a lawsuit.”
“I am grieved that it must be so, Christian,” replied the major; “but the laws are stronger than we, and I shall do what they require me to do, rigorously. A man has been killed this evening whom it would certainly be more to our advantage to hold alive. I know that you had nothing to do with this, and that you yourself were wounded in the scuffle in which he perished. You are passionate—you are brave and generous—but you are not prudent in what concerns yourself. As for me, I tell you that this affair may lead you to the scaffold, because you acknowledge honestly having given provocation to your enemies, while the rogues deny insolently their part in the transaction. Let us read, then, and neglect no means of making the truth triumph.”
“Yes, yes, major, read, I am listening!” cried Margaret, who had turned pale as she looked at Christian’s bloody sleeve; “I will testify, no matter at what cost!”
Christian would have refused to take advantage of the devotion of this noble girl, and he could ill endure the authority which the major assumed over her. The major, however, was right, and Christian felt this, since in this affair the honor of the officer was at stake no less than his own. He seated himself brusquely, and covered his face with his hands to conceal and repress the vehement emotions by which he was agitated, while the major read in a loud voice the journal of Master Johan, written by himself, and sent to the baron during the hunt.
“This seems to me a very mysterious document,” he said, on concluding it; “it proves a deep-laid plot against Christian, but—”
“But you cannot understand,” said M. Goefle, who, while the major was reading, had rapidly glanced through the second paper contained in the portfolio, “such hatred against an unknown, without name, without family, and without fortune, on the part of the high and mighty seigneur the Baron de Waldemora. Well, for my part, I understand it perfectly, and, since we see the effect, it is time to know the cause; here it is—Lift up your head, Christian de Waldemora!” added M. Goefle, striking the table with energy; “for Heaven has led you here, and old Stenson was right in saying, ‘The wealth of the sinner is laid up for the just.’”
During the silence that followed—for all were struck dumb with amazement—M. Goefle read aloud what follows:
“Declaration intrusted by me, Adam Stenson, to Taddeo Manasses, Merchant, born in Perugia: To be delivered up to Christian on the day when the circumstances herein mentioned shall permit: