Prisoner. “Alas! I have always been the victim of calumny.”
“You appear to have been reared in a hotbed of crime. At two years old you bit the mother who nursed you.”
Prisoner. “She bit me first.”
“Later in life you fell a-quarrelling with one of your neighbours and called him a Toad!”
Prisoner. “He had called me an Alligator.”
“Three years ago you were seen prowling round the royal rabbit warren, a place which no animal of your species is permitted to enter.”
Prisoner. “My lord, I never set foot inside it.”
“Perhaps not, but you intended to get in there, and to create a disturbance inside. The gentlemen of the jury will know how to take all these circumstances into account.”
The hearing of the witnesses followed, the Wolf cross-examining each with great ability—calm with some, ardent, jocular, or sarcastic with others, always ready with a reply to any damaging statement. Little by little, nevertheless, his strength failed him; to the strain of over-excitement there succeeded a sudden prostration, and at last he fainted away.
The trial had to be adjourned till the following week. For some days the Wolf was too feeble to appear. Never has an illustrious animal, the head of a family or a prince adored by his people—as official proclamations assure us—excited so keen a public interest during sickness as did this unlucky Wolf. The habitues of the court feared lest a sensational prosecution should be lost to them. The judge’s heart bled lest this important and popular trial should come to an end, depriving him of the opportunity of summing up, and so dealing with the evidence as to present to the jury the distorted form of justice seen through the illusive medium of the law. The executioner, his keen blade athirst for a victim, trembled lest it should be robbed of its proper prey. The Vulture general dreaded lest his eloquent speech should have to be shelved, again undelivered—a speech that had cost him three weeks of close study.