"I have not read it, and I do not know its contents. But I rely upon our worthy cause, and the king's sense of justice. These comedians were the occasion of a public disturbance—it is, therefore, proper that they should be punished. As justice is on our side, I cannot doubt the result. I have not read this dispatch, for I considered it more in accordance with the dignity of this body that the seal should be broken in your presence, and I now beg that you, Professor Bierman, as the secretary of the Senate, will read to us this dispatch from the General Assembly."
As Bierman broke the seal, all eyes were turned on him, and in this moment of expectation the professors were aware that their hearts beat louder and more rapidly. Suddenly Professor Bierman uttered a cry, a cry of horror, which awakened an echo in every breast.
"Proceed," commanded the president, with stony composure.
"I cannot," murmured Bierman, as he sank back powerless in his chair.
"Then I will read it myself," cried Professor Heinrich, forgetting all other considerations in his determination to satisfy his curiosity. "I will read it," he repeated, as he took the paper from the trembling hands of his friend.
"Read," said the president, in a low voice.
Professor Heinrich then proceeded to read aloud the following dispatch sent by the General Assembly to the Senate of the University at Halle.
"We find it most unworthy that you, in your complaint against the comedians now in Halle, should endeavor to cast on them the blame of the late disturbance in the theatre. We are well aware of the cause of this disturbance, and now declare that the actors shall not be banished from Halle."
A fearful pause followed this reading. The president perceived that
Heinrich was still looking at the paper he held.
"Is that all? Have you finished the dispatch?"