I.N.R.I. | Page 7

be free again! I should never think of such things again. The world could go on as it pleased. I should do my work, and not trouble about anything else. Only," and he said it softly, uncertainly, "only I shall not forget God again."
"There is naturally only a moderate chance," said the judge. "In some cases, where it is concerned with the whole----"
"It is very uncertain, then?" asked Konrad. "But, my God! how is it to be borne? If this time is lengthened, how is it to be borne? This terrible suspense!"
"It can be a time of hope," said the judge.
"But how long will it last?" asked Konrad.
The judge shrugged his shoulders. "It may last three weeks, but it might last double that time."
Konrad asked confidingly: "Do you think, sir, that a man can hold out?--with the terror of death lasting for weeks?"
"Haven't you just a little confidence?" asked the judge. "Haven't we all to endure uncertainty?--the judge as well as the condemned man?"
"But what am I to do?" demanded Konrad. "How am I to employ myself all the dreadful time? It's being buried alive."
"Unhappily it's not in my power to give you a better room, though you haven't the worst cell in the building. But perhaps you have some other desire that can be granted. Speak out frankly, Ferleitner," said the judge.
Therewith he folded the paper, and put the writing materials into his coat pocket. Konrad followed his proceedings with his eyes. He could not comprehend how this dread personage came to speak to him in so kindly a fashion. "As to the room," he said, "it's all I need--when you've nothing to do, and are not likely to have anything to do, what can a man want? If a man isn't free, nothing else matters. But one thing--I have one request, sir."
"Then speak it," said the judge, and holding Konrad's hand firmly in his, broke out with: "Don't you see, it's cruel to think, to believe, that we must be the personal enemies of all whom we're obliged to condemn. You think the proceedings in court were so callous, you've no idea how we actually feel about the business. It is not only the accused who passes sleepless nights--the judge, too, knows them. We lawyers--outside our profession--have founded an association to support and encourage those we are obliged to pronounce guilty, that they may not sink down uncomforted. So, my dear Ferleitner, you may trust me that, as far as I can, I will alleviate your position."
Then Konrad, looking down on the floor, said: "I should like to have writing materials."
"You want to write?" asked the Judge.
"If I might ask for paper, pens, and ink," returned Konrad. "In former years I used to like writing down my thoughts--just as they came, I had little education."
"You wish to write to your friends?" inquired the judge.
"Oh no! If I had any, they'd be glad not to hear from me," said Konrad.
"Or to draw up a plea of justification?"
"No."
"Or an account of your life?"
"No, not that either. My life has not been good enough. Misfortune should be forgotten rather than recorded. No, I think I can write something else," stated Konrad.
"You shall have writing materials," said the judge. "And is there anything else? A more comfortable bed?"
"No, thank you. It's right enough as it is. If a hard bed was the only thing----"
"And is everything kept properly neat and clean?" interrupted the judge.
"If you're always waiting and thinking, 'Now, now, they're coming!' I tell you, sir, you don't sleep well," replied Konrad.
"Don't keep worrying yourself with ideas, Ferleitner," said the judge warningly to the man, who had again worked himself up into a state of excitement. "Not one of us knows what the next hour may bring, and yet we live on calmly. Use the time," he continued playfully, "in avenging your condemnation by some great literary work. In olden times great minds often did it."
"I can't write a great work," answered Konrad. "And I've nothing to avenge. I deserve death. But it's this waiting for it. The torments of hell cannot be worse."
"We've nothing to do with hell. We've merely to think of the purgatory in which we are placed. Let heaven, as they say, follow. Haven't you any business to arrange? Nothing to settle for anyone?" asked the judge.
"No one, no one!" Konrad assured him.
"That's a piece of luck that many of your comrades in misfortune would envy you. A man can settle things easily for himself alone. If it's any consolation, Ferleitner, I may tell you that we don't regard you as a scoundrel, only as a poor creature who has been led astray. Now that's enough for the present. Your modest request shall be granted at once."
After this remarkable conversation with the poor sinner, the judge left