People could not imagine on what grounds Mr. Schöninger had been accused, but considered it a matter of course that there must have been some proof against him; and they immediately set themselves to recollecting everything they had observed in him, to magnifying every peculiarity and perverting every circumstance connected with his life. Some had always said that strangers whom nobody knew anything about were received altogether too readily in Crichton. It was only necessary that a man should be good-looking, or clever, or have a romantic appearance, or be enveloped in a mystery, for him to be made the hero of the hour. And here the men bethought themselves, like true sons of Adam, to lay the blame on the women. Another class, made up of both Catholics and Protestants, reminded the public that they had from the first protested against Christians mingling in friendly intercourse with Jews. It was a treason against their Lord to do so, these Christians said, and he had shown his displeasure by allowing this wolf, whom they had admitted into the fold, to destroy one of the chosen ones. Others there were, microscopic critics, who had always found something peculiarly sinister in certain expressions of the Jew's face, and who recollected perfectly having shivered with fear when they had encountered these peculiar glances.
The sound grew up and gathered, and at the end of a fortnight public opinion in Crichton had half condemned the man without having heard a word of testimony against him.
Doubtless his own scornful silence had not predisposed any one in his favor; and, besides, he was reported to have spoken slightingly of an institution which it is not safe to attack. Rumor accused him of having said that a jury hinder more than they help the cause of justice; and that if public sentiment is not high enough to educate and elect a proper judge, it is folly to call in from the street to his aid twelve men who are probably still more incompetent, and certainly less responsible.
The judges may have been not ill-pleased at this; but few others heard the story without indignation.
The newspapers also soon became either cold or unfriendly; for though they had all expressed the most courteous surprise and regret at his arrest, he had not allowed one of their reporters so much as a glimpse of him.
One after another the friendly voices grew faint or fell into silence, till only three or four were left. F. Chevreuse had written Mr. Schöninger a line, "Whenever you want me, I shall be ready to come," and had refrained from all other approach. But he did not cease to insist on his belief in the prisoner's innocence. Mrs. Ferrier, also, was loud and warm in her championship. She visited Mr. Schöninger in prison, and stood at the grate, the jailer by her side, with tears running down her cheeks, while she poured forth her incoherent but most sincere indignation and grief; and she scraped the skin from her fat hand pushing it through the bars to take that of the prisoner.
She also made arrangements for a larger and lighter cell to be given him, and had begun to furnish it most luxuriously, when he found out what she was doing, and absolutely refused to move.
"My dear Mrs. Ferrier," he said, "it is not the bare stones and the hard bench that makes the place intolerable; and I will not consent to any change. I should be no more at ease locked up in a palace. Let me remain as I am while I stay here."
"But look at that bed!" she cried; and the diamond glittering on the indignant finger she pointed through the bars was outshone by the tear that welled up and hung on her eyelashes. "The idea of a man like you sleeping on that sack of straw with a gray blanket over it! It's a sin and a shame!"
"But, my friend, it is good enough for a criminal," he answered, with something like a faint smile on his face.