The Magister laid the sheet down, and answered, with hesitation:
"It appears undoubtedly to be an imitation of an old script, as the Professor has already discovered."
"I found this work," continued the Scholar, "in the tower of the castle in the country, inserted in that torn missal, laid in that chest, and concealed among old furniture. And you, Magister, have prepared this leaf, and you have concealed it in this place. That is not all. Long before, in order to put me on a false track, you placed the register of a chest in the old records; you invented the figures 1 and 2 for the chests, and further, you yourself wrote the register in order to deceive me."
The Magister stood with lowered head, seeking for an answer. He did not know on what confession of others these deliberate assertions were grounded. Had the Castellan betrayed him? Had the Sovereign himself exposed him? Terror came over him, but he replied, doggedly:
"I did not do it."
"In vain do you seek to deceive me anew," continued the Scholar. "If I had not already sufficient ground to say to your face that you did this, your demeanor in the presence of this sheet would be ample evidence. No sound of astonishment, no word of horror at such an attempt at forgery escaped you. What true scholar would look upon such a thing and remain silent, if his own conscience did not close his mouth? What have I done to you, Magister, that you should inflict upon me this bitter anguish? Give me some excuse for your action. Have I ever injured you? Have I ever aroused in you secret ill-will against me? Any reason that will make this abomination comprehensible will be welcome to me; for I look with dismay on this depravation of a human soul."
"The Professor has never given me any ground for complaint," replied Knips, submissively.
"Nevertheless," said the Professor, "in cold blood, with indifference, with malicious levity, you have done your worst to me: it was wrong, very wrong, Magister."
"Perhaps it was only a jest," sighed the Magister; "perhaps it was only put in that way to him who prepared the writing. He only perhaps acted by the command of another, not by free choice, and not of his own will."
"What power on earth could command you to practice towards another so deliberate a piece of knavery?" asked the Professor, sorrowfully. "You yourself know right well what consequences this deception may have for myself and others."