"The egg, too, has its story," answered Raschke; "but for the present, I may fitly waive discussing this. What has brought me here," addressing Felix, earnestly, "was neither fowls nor eggs, but our colleague, Struvelius. I am seeking forgiveness for him."
Felix drew himself up stiffly. "Has he commissioned you to come?"
"Not exactly; but it is the wish of some of our colleagues. You know that next year we require an energetic Rector. Some of our acquaintance are speaking of you. Struvelius will probably be Deacon, and for this reason we wish to bring you into friendly relations; and still more for the sake of peace at the University. We regret exceedingly to see our classicists at variance."
"What the man has done to me," replied the Professor, proudly, "I can easily forgive, although his mean and underhand conduct has deeply offended me. I feel much more seriously the effect of his foolish work upon himself and our University. What separates me from him is the dishonesty of spirit that has actuated his conduct."
"The expression is too strong," cried Raschke.
"It applies to his behavior exactly," returned the Professor. "When the forgery was pointed out to him, his fear of humiliation was greater than his love of truth, and he lied in order to deceive others--conduct unworthy of a German professor, and I can never forgive it."
"Again you are too severe," replied Raschke; "he has frankly and loyally admitted his error."
"He did so only when Magister Knips and others clearly proved the forgery that had been committed in the manuscript, and so made any further evasion impossible."
"Human feelings are not so easy to analyze as numbers are," rejoined Raschke; "and only he who judges charitably, judges rightly. He struggled with wounded pride perhaps too long, but he gave in at last."
"I tolerate no unknown quantity in the sense of honor of a scientist; the question here was: Black or white? Truth or falsehood?"