"You are an unfair advocate," said Fink; "you enlist private feelings."
"You did the same," replied Anton. "And now I will soon dispose of you. About half a year ago, this Yankee went to our principal and said, 'I wish no longer to be a volunteer, but a regular member of your house.' Why was this? Of course, only for the sake of a certain number of dollars."
Again all smiled and looked kindly at Fink, for it was well known that he had said on that occasion, "I wish for a regular share of employment, I wish for the responsibility attached to it, and I thoroughly like my work."
"And then," continued Anton, triumphantly, "he shares all the weak sentimentalities he so condemns. He loves his horse, as you all know, not as the sum of five hundred dollars represented by so many hundred weight of flesh, and covered by a glossy skin—he loves it as a friend."
"Because he amuses me," said Fink.
"Of course," said Anton; "and thus table-linen amuses our housewives, so that is even. And then his pair of condor wings, his pistols, riding-whips, red drinking-glasses, are all trifles that he values, just as a German emigrant does his birdcages; and, in short, he is, in point of fact, nothing more than a poor-spirited German, like the rest of us."
Sabine shook her head, but she looked more kindly at the American, and his face too had changed. He looked straight before him, and there was a something playing over his haughty features that, in any one else, would have been called emotion.
"Well," said he, at length, "both the lady and I were perhaps too positive." Then pointing to the dead sparrow, "Before this serious fact I lay down my arms, and confess that I wish the little gentleman were still alive, and likely to reach a good old age among the cherries and other delicacies of the firm. And so," turning to Sabine, "you will not be angry with me any more, will you?"
Sabine smiled, and cordially answered "No."
"As for you, Anton, give me your hand. You have made a brilliant defense, and gained me a verdict of 'Not guilty' from a German jury. Take your pen and scratch out a few weeks from our calendar; you understand?" Anton pressed his hand, and threw his arm around his shoulder.