Schlüssel shepherded me into a very dark, high-ceilinged courtroom,
furnished with benches in a semi-circle. The appearance of this
deserted courtroom, its two high windows protected by grilles, its
crucifix of old oakwood stained brown on which the arms of Christ
lay stretched out with the head sorrowfully resting on a shoulder,
awoke in me I know not what religious fear in keeping with my
present situation and my lips moved as they framed a prayer.
I had not prayed for a long time, but misfortune always takes us
back to thoughts of submissiveness... Man is such a small thing!
Facing me, on a raised dais, two people were sitting with their
backs to the light, which kept their faces shaded from me. I could
see it was Van Spreckdal, however, by his aquiline nose picked out
by a slanting reflection of the pane. The man with him was fat - he
had plump, full cheeks and wore a judge's robe, as did Van Spreckdal.
Sitting below them was the clerk of the court, Conrad. He was sitting
at a low table, tickling the lobe of his ear with the feather of his
quill pen. He stopped when I arrived to look at me with curiosity.
I was made to sit down and Van Spreckdal, raising his voice, spoke
to me:
"Christian Venius, where did you get this drawing from?"
He showed me the nocturnal sketch then still in his possession. It was
passed to me... After I had examined it, I answered:
"I drew it myself."
This utterance on my part was followed by a fairly long silence; the
clerk of the court, Conrad, was writing down my answer. I heard his
pen hurrying over the paper and thought: "What does the question I
have just been asked mean? It has no connection with the kick that
I aimed at Rap's back."
"You drew it yourself," Van Spreckdal resumed. "What is the subject
of it?"
"It's a subject out of my own head."
"You didn't copy these details from somewhere?"
"No, sir. I imagined all of them."
"The accused would do well to reflect on the truth of what he is
saying," said the judge severely. "Do not lie to the court."