Yes, that would have been too absurd. They could not have brought the Dominie all his books in a wheelbarrow, and requested him to “look up” information as to what was to be done with himself! No—that would not do. But all at once an expedient occurred to Kobus. There was an old, old man in the village—a grey-beard of ninety or more. Perhaps in his young days there might have been such a thing as a malefactor in this rural region. Yes, the idea was not such a bad one, and Kobus was sent as a delegate from the government to this oracle of antiquity. In fact, the old man had a suggestion ready. He remembered that some sixty years ago an analogous case had occurred, and then the burgomaster had first examined the culprit himself, and then sent him to town for trial. He added, however, that the burgomaster on that occasion had not been quite certain of what he ought to do. That, however, did not matter so much—the precedent was there in any case. The schoolmaster then must be examined; and, as Mulders had once been present at a trial in court, the forms of justice presented no such great difficulty after all.
On the fifth day after his arrest, the schoolmaster was haled forth from the dungeon under the tower, and—of course, heavily handcuffed—taken to the council-chamber. That was an event. The whole village formed a long procession, which accompanied the prisoner; and when he was taken inside, his train remained hanging about the doors. Then followed a buzz and clatter among the crowd, as though it were a swarm of bees, or a duck-yard.
“THAT WAS AN EVENT.”
“It’s too bad,” said a little old woman; “an old white-haired man like that. What may not a man come to? Only yesterday he was teaching my daughter’s children their lessons, and to-day the poor lambs are running after their master, because he’s been in jail just like some nasty vagabond. And I can’t believe it of him, do you know—anything but that. He has always been much too kind to every one. I’m not the only one here whom he has helped for nothing—nothing at all—without your having to pay a cent for it.”
“Yes, but, mother,” began a rich farmer,—with a face and attitude in which the most condescending amiability could not altogether hide the lowest greed, and a stupid arrogant conceit,—“you must understand that there are well-founded reasons—I say, well-founded reasons—for the man to have been taken up—eh? That’s surely self-evident—eh? No one is put into handcuffs without important reasons; there must be a ground for such a motive—I say, for such a motive.” And then the mighty orator looked round him with a “What do you think of me now?” expression, and enjoyed his victory over the old woman. But the latter was not to be driven from the field so easily.
“You go along with your French talk. I know nothing about that,—and yet I think I know quite as much as you do yourself. But this I know, that it doesn’t look well for you, of all people, to abuse the schoolmaster anyway. Even though it were as clear as a post above the water that the Dominie had stolen, you ought to stand up for him! Do you understand me—eh?”
The rich farmer understood quite well. When his youngest boy had been lying ill some months ago, he had been too mean to send for a doctor, though he could well afford it, and had called the schoolmaster to his assistance. Then, as at other times, the Dominie had said “No,” to keep up appearances, as he was not supposed to practise any more; but he had thought “Yes,” and acted on his thought. And the rich farmer had paid him nothing. This was why he now hurriedly turned away from this covert attack, muttering something about “old creatures getting quite childish,” but abstained from further contradiction.
But the old woman could not be everywhere at once to take the Dominie’s part, and the conclusion of most conversations was this: “Yes, you see, folks don’t call a cow piebald, when there’s not a spot about her.”
Suddenly, however, all voices were hushed before the reverently-uttered magic formula, “The Burgomaster!”