Suddenly a gruff voice was heard. The poet is startled out of his dreams. Four elegantly dressed gentlemen are seen coming up the road, and approach the circle.
“Who can escape his fate?” said the young count angrily. “The heavenly muses are put to flight by hostile spirits; but what do I see?” he continued, looking through the branches at the group. “Three of the most powerful men of the kingdom? Three master-masons and the grandmaster of all the Freemasons within a circumference of three hundred miles? What can bring these sons of night to this peaceful spot? I hope they will not remain long enough to poison the fragrant air with their foul plotting and plans. Truly, their presence has already effected a change: the sun does not shine as brightly, and it is becoming cloudy.”
He then sat listening.
“I do not understand you, professor,” said the person with the gruff voice. “To say the least, it is a very singular fancy of yours to defend the Jesuits.”
“No fancy at all, Herr Director; it is simply the result of knowledge,” replied the professor.
“The knowledge acquired in your high-school is certainly wonderful,” answered the director, with a mocking laugh. “But your effort to defend the Jesuits surpasses even the bounds of knowledge!”
“If you scorn knowledge when right and truth are in question, you will surely allow a man of sound judgment to have some respect for that which is founded on facts,” said the university professor, with great warmth.
“Oh! you have my permission to say what you choose between these green walls,” exclaimed the director, pointing with his hand towards the young fir-trees.
“And you, most worshipful grandmaster—do you also allow the free expression of opinion?” inquired the professor of a man with a gray beard, whose eyes and features indicated a disposition of great craftiness.
“Certainly; we are not in the masonic lodge,” replied the gentleman addressed. “I am not grandmaster here, but a simple chief-magistrate, Be careful, however, in your expressions, we might be overheard.”