Without hesitation he related the scene; only when he had to confess how he had carried his father into the house his voice shook, and he turned around as if wishing to implore pardon from him.
The old man had clinched his fists and gnashed his teeth. He had to live to see his own son tear the halo of glory from his head.
“And after you had dismissed the servant, did you see or hear nothing of him any more?” asked the president.
“No.”
“When you awoke in the night of the fire, what did you see first?” he continued his questioning.
A long silence. Paul put his hands to his forehead and staggered back two steps.
A thrill of pity ran through the hall. No one thought otherwise but that the remembrance of that terrible sight overpowered him.
The silence continued.
“Please answer.”
“I did—not—sleep.”