The Chief Justice: A Novel

by Karl Emil Franzos

The next morning the Vienna papers published the news of the measures taken with regard to Sendlingen, which they had learnt by private telegrams. A severe censorship hampered the Austrian press in those days; the papers had been obliged to accustom the public to read more between the lines than the lines themselves: and this time, too, they hit upon a safe method of criticism. As if by a preconcerted agreement, all the papers pronounced the news highly incredible; and that it was, moreover, wicked to attribute such conduct to the strict but just government which Austria enjoyed. A severer condemnation than this defence of the government against "manifestly malicious reports" could not easily be imagined, and the public understood it as it was intended.

In a moment, Sendlingen's name was in every mouth, and the investigation against the workmen the talk of the day, first in the capital, soon throughout the whole country.

A flood of telegrams and letters, inquiries and enthusiastic commendations, suddenly burst upon Sendlingen. Had there been room in his poor heart, in his weary tormented brain, for any lucid thought or feeling, he would now have been able, in the days of his disgrace, to have held up his head more proudly than ever. It was not saying too much when Berger told him that a whole nation was now showing how highly it valued him. But he scarcely noticed it and continued, dark and hopeless, to do his duty and to drag on the Sisyphus-task of his investigation in combat with both the police and the Crown lawyers.

Suddenly those hindrances ceased. When Sendlingen one morning entered his Chambers soon after the news of his deposal had appeared in the papers, he for the first time, for weeks, found no information of the police on the table. That might be an accident, but when there was none the second day, he breathed again. The Superintendent of Police at Bolosch was, the zealous servant of his masters; if he in twice twenty-four hours did not discover the slightest trace of high treason, there must be good reason for it. In the same way nothing more was heard from the Crown-Advocate.

"They have almost lost courage in the face of the general indignation!" cried Berger triumphantly. "Franz has just told me that Brigitta is to start the day after to-morrow for Gratz. Let her wait a few days, and so spare the old lady having to make the journey to Pfalicz by the very round about way of Gratz."

"You cannot seriously hope that," said Sendlingen turning away, and so Berger went into Brigitta's room later on to bid her good-bye.

The old lady was eagerly reading a book which she hastily put on one side as he entered. "I am disturbing you," he said. "What are you studying so diligently?"

"Oh, a novel," she replied quickly. Her eyes were red and she must have been crying a great deal lately.

"I thought perhaps it was a description of Gratz," said he jokingly. "It seems to me that you have a genuine fear of this weird city where life surges and swells so mightily!" And he attempted to remove her fears by telling her much of the quiet, narrow life of the town on the Mur.

While he was speaking, the book, which she had laid on her workbox, slid to the ground and he picked it up before she had time to bend down for it. It was a French grammar. "Great heavens!" he cried in astonishment. "You are taking up the studies of your youth again, Fräulein Brigitta?"