“They do not see the matter in that light in Berlin. As a matter of fact this spirit of revolt against your sovereign only serves to greatly aggravate your crime.”
“My crime!” Trenck exclaimed, trembling with anger.
His glance fell upon the major’s sword and the thought came to him to tear it from his side and pierce his throat with it. But in the same instant it occurred to him that he might rather profit by the situation. Pale and trembling as he was, he retained sufficient self-control to modify the expression of his countenance and the tone of his voice, though his glance remained fixed upon the sword.
“Major,” he said, “no one can be called a criminal until he has been so adjudged by the courts. Happily a man’s honor does not depend upon the inconsequent, malicious opinion of others. On the contrary blame should attach to him who condemns the accused without a hearing. No constituted power, whether that of king or judge, has yet convicted me of any culpable action. Apart from the courtesy which should be observed between officers of the same rank, you, out of simple justice, should refrain front such an accusation.”
“Every one knows,” retorted Boo, “that you entered into relations with the enemy.”
“I? Great God!”
“Do you not consider the Pandours, then, as such?”
“I visited their chief solely as a relative. A glass of wine shared with him in his tent can hardly be construed into a dangerous alliance!”
“But you hoped to inherit great riches from this relative. That hope might well impel you to cross the frontier of Bohemia for all time.”
“Why, what egregious folly! What more could I hope for than that which I already possessed in Berlin? Was I a poor adventurer seeking his fortune by his sword? Rich in my own right; enjoying to the full the king’s favor; attached to the court by all that satisfied pride could demand, as well as by ties of the tenderest sentiments. What more was there for me to covet or to seek elsewhere?”