Gerson Brandt motioned to Hans Peter to retire from the place in front of the stocks.
“Thou hast this day taught Zanah a lesson,” he declared, in a kindly voice. “Thy verdict is right. It should be accepted by the people.”
“Faugh! Wouldst thou let a fool decide a matter of great importance to Zanah?” angrily inquired Adolph Schneider, who had with difficulty smothered his rage when he saw the chief law of the colony made ridiculous by Gerson Brandt’s declaration that the man who had never loved should judge Stephen Everett.
“We demand that the school-master shall fix the penalty,” shouted Mother Schneider. “He knoweth best to what extent the madness of an earthly love hath afflicted her who would have been a prophetess; he hath lost his best friend through the iniquitous influence of the stranger.”
The people became unruly, for their patience had been tried by the suspense. They clamored for speedy justice to him who had made trouble for them.
“Gerson Brandt, thou shalt pass the verdict,” said Karl Weisel. “Since thou didst order Stephen Everett made a prisoner, thou shouldst make sure that he suffers for his misdeeds.”
The school-master pushed back the hair from his forehead. He waited for a moment, lifting his hands to invite the attention of the people.
“None is more unworthy to judge this man for loving a woman than I, Gerson Brandt,” he said, with a quaver in his voice. “It is my desire that some of you fix his punishment, for even though you may set him free, I shall do penance for him. I have sinned against Zanah more than he.”
“What meanest thou, Brother Brandt?” asked Adolph Schneider, confronting him. “Beware how thou dost forfeit the respect of the people.”
“I have treasured in my heart an earthly love,” the school-master confessed, turning from Adolph Schneider and speaking to the colonists.