The florid man left his chair, and pointing to another, said coldly,--
"Sit down there, Herr Botskay. By order of the general commanding, you are to answer these questions in writing, an hour being given you for the task."
To all appearance I was quite cool, but the blood surged through my veins like a rushing torrent, and I could not see the questions on the paper for dizziness.
Apathy and despair vanished. The latent spark of hope kindled into a fresh flame. Here was another chance of life and freedom. Alas! my new and beautiful castle was built on very frail foundations.
The questions numbered nearly a dozen, and were framed in such a manner that by answering them without adding the fullest explanations I should only make my case worse.
A quarter of an hour passed, and I still sat staring stupidly at my blank sheet of paper.
The soldiers stood grimly at attention, the officer leaned on his sword, the stout man sat writing stolidly; no sound but the monotonous ticking of the clock and the beating of my own heart broke the silence.
At last, seizing the pen, I began to write--not in answer to the questions, but a short account of what had passed between Von Theyer and myself, and an explanation of how I came to be in the company of Batori Gabor.
It was rather a lame performance, its chief merit being to afford a reason for Von Theyer's persecution; and when the official came to witness my signature, I felt it would do me but little good.
Another week passed--a week of heart-wearing suspense--before I was again called to attend the court.