Concerning Letters | Page 6

"Old owl!" said the Captain of the Watch: "Be careful what you say! If
you saw the rat, why did you then not aid this unhappy citizen who was
bitten by it--first, to avoid that rodent, and subsequently to slay it,
thereby relieving the public of a pestilential danger?"
Cethru looked at him, and for some seconds did not reply; then he said
slowly: "I were just passin' with my lanthorn."

"That you have already told us," said the Captain of the Watch; "it is no
answer."
Cethru's leathern cheeks became wine-coloured, so desirous was he to
speak, and so unable. And the Watch sneered and laughed, saying:
"This is a fine witness."
But of a sudden Cethru spoke:
"What would I be duin'--killin' rats; tidden my business to kill rats."
The Captain of the Watch caressed his beard, and looking at the old
man with contempt, said:
"It seems to me, brothers, that this is an idle old vagabond, who does no
good to any one. We should be well advised, I think, to prosecute him
for vagrancy. But that is not at this moment the matter in hand. Owing
to the accident--scarcely fortunate--of this old man's passing with his
lanthorn, it would certainly appear that citizens have been bitten by
rodents. It is then, I fear, our duty to institute proceedings against those
poisonous and violent animals."
And amidst the sighing of the Watch, it was so resolved.
Cethru was glad to shuffle away, unnoticed, from the Court, and sitting
down under a camel-date tree outside the City Wall, he thus reflected:
"They were rough with me! I done nothin', so far's I can see!"
And a long time he sat there with the bunches of the camel-dates above
him, golden as the sunlight. Then, as the scent of the lyric- flowers,
released by evening, warned him of the night dropping like a flight of
dark birds on the plain, he rose stiffly, and made his way as usual
toward the Vita Publica.
He had traversed but little of that black thoroughfare, holding his
lanthorn at the level of his breast, when the sound of a splash and cries
for help smote his long, thin ears. Remembering how the Captain of the
Watch had admonished him, he stopped and peered about, but owing to
his proximity to the light of his own lanthorn he saw nothing. Presently
he heard another splash and the sound of blowings and of puffings, but
still unable to see clearly whence they came, he was forced in
bewilderment to resume his march. But he had no sooner entered the
next bend of that obscure and winding avenue than the most lamentable,
lusty cries assailed him. Again he stood still, blinded by his own light.
Somewhere at hand a citizen was being beaten, for vague,
quick-moving forms emerged into the radiance of his lanthorn out of

the deep violet of the night air. The cries swelled, and died away, and
swelled; and the mazed Cethru moved forward on his way. But very
near the end of his first traversage, the sound of a long, deep sighing, as
of a fat man in spiritual pain, once more arrested him.
"Drat me!" he thought, "this time I will see what 'tis," and he spun
round and round, holding his lanthorn now high, now low, and to both
sides. "The devil an' all's in it to-night," he murmured to himself;
"there's some'at here fetchin' of its breath awful loud." But for his life
he could see nothing, only that the higher he held his lanthorn the more
painful grew the sound of the fat but spiritual sighing. And desperately,
he at last resumed his progress.
On the morrow, while he still slept stretched on his straw pallet, there
came to him a member of the Watch.
"Old man, you are wanted at the Court House; rouse up, and bring your
lanthorn."
Stiffly Cethru rose.
"What be they wantin' me fur now, mester?"
"Ah!" replied the Watchman, "they are about to see if they can't put an
end to your goings-on."
Cethru shivered, and was silent.
Now when they reached the Court House it was patent that a great
affair was forward; for the Judges were in their robes, and a crowd of
advocates, burgesses, and common folk thronged the careen, lofty hall
of justice.
When Cethru saw that all eyes were turned on him, he shivered still
more violently, fixing his fascinated gaze on the three Judges in their
emerald robes.
"This then is the prisoner," said the oldest of the Judges; "proceed with
the indictment!"
A little advocate in snuff-coloured clothes rose on little legs, and
commenced to read:
"Forasmuch as on the seventeenth night of August fifteen hundred
years since the Messiah's death, one Celestine, a maiden