“If you wish to assume the character of the good Samaritan, Von Sempach, I do not object,” answered the Russian, making a great effort to conceal his real displeasure.
Adolph approached the weak and feeble priest, and, giving him the support of his arm, led him to his seat.
“Allow me, reverend sir, to serve you.”
The Jesuit looked at him with gratitude, and Adolph commenced to fill his plate. The half-starved owner of the iron cross began to eat, and like a lamp whose dying flame is revived when oil is poured upon it, so also was it with the proscribed priest, who soon felt the benefit of Adolph’s tender care.
Alexandra had left the room when she saw that her father would grant the request of Von Sempach. With an expression of unutterable scorn and disgust, she gathered up the train of her rich silk dress, and retired to her own apartment.
“Will the new German Empire send us any more of such guests?” asked the governor, who was filled with suppressed wrath at seeing a Jesuit at his table.
“Hardly!” replied Schulze. “The majority of the Jesuits are Germans or Swiss; there are only a few Poles among them.”
“Are only the foreigners expelled, and not the Germans?” asked the Russian.
“No Jesuit, even if he be a German, can remain in the new German Empire, and discharge any sacerdotal or educational functions,” replied Schulze.
“It has made a very strange impression upon me,” said the professor, “to see men condemned and treated like criminals, against whom not the least fault can be proved. Even the bitterest enemies of the Jesuits confessed this at the Diet, saying, ‘We find no fault in them!’ An old proverb asserts that ‘Justice is the foundation of kingdoms.’ The conduct of Russia against Poland excepted, there is not a similar example in modern history.”