Three weeks later, on a glowing hot August day, the Austrian Minister
of Justice sat in his office, conferring with one of his subordinates,
when an attendant brought him a card; the gentleman, he said, was
waiting in the ante-room and would not be denied admittance.
"Sendlingen!" read the Minister. "This is a surprise; it has not been
known for years whether he was alive or dead. Excuse me," he said to
his companion, "but I cannot very well keep him waiting."
The official departed, Sendlingen was shown in. He was very pale; the
expression of his features was gloomy, but resolved.
The Minister rose and offered his hand with the friendliest smile.
"Welcome to Vienna," he cried. "I hope that you are completely
recovered, and are coming to me to offer your services to the State
once more."
"No, your Excellency," replied Sendlingen. "Forgive me, if I cannot
take your hand. I will spare you having to regret it in the next
instant. For I do not come to offer you my services as Judge, but to
deliver myself into the hands of Justice. I am a criminal and desire to
undergo the punishment due to me."
The Minister turned pale and drew back: "The man is mad," he thought.
The thought must have been legible in his face, for Sendlingen
continued:
"Do not be afraid, I am in my senses. I have indeed abused my office in
a fashion so monstrous, that perhaps nothing like it has ever happened
before. I released from prison, by means of official keys, a condemned
woman, who was to have been executed the next day, and suggested,
furthered, and carried out her flight to a foreign country. Her name
was Victorine Lippert: the crime was done on the night of 21-22
February, 1853."
"I remember the case," muttered the Minister. "She escaped in the most
mysterious way. But you! Why should you have done this?"
"A father saved his child: Victorine is my natural daughter."
The Minister wiped the sweat from his forehead. "This is a frightful
business." He once more searchingly looked at his uncomfortable
visitor. "He certainly seems to be in his senses," he thought.
"Allow me to tell you how every thing came about?"
The Minister nodded and pointed to a chair.
Sendlingen remained standing. He began to narrate. Clearly and quietly,
in a hollow, monotonous voice, he told of his relations with Herminie
Lippert, then how he had made the discovery in the lists of the
Criminal Court, and of his struggles whether he should preside at the
trial or not.
"I had the strength to refuse," he continued. "My sense of duty
conquered. Sentence of death was pronounced. It was--and perhaps you
will believe me although you hear it at such a moment, from such a
man--it was a judicial murder, such as could have been decreed by a
Court of Justice alone. And therefore my first thought was: against
this wrong, wrong alone can help. I sought out the prison keys, and for
some hours was firmly resolved to release my daughter. But then my
sense of duty--perhaps more strictly speaking my egoism--conquered. For
I said to myself that I, constituted as I was, could not commit this
crime without some day making atonement for it. I knew quite well even
then, that an hour would come in my life, like the present, and I could
not find it in my heart to end as a criminal. But my conscience cried:
'Then your child will die!' and so suicide seemed to me the only thing
left. I was resolved to kill myself; whether I could not bring myself
to it at the last moment, whether a chance saved me--I do not know:
there is a veil cast over that hour that I have never since been able
to pierce. I survived, I saw my daughter, and recovered my clearness of
mind; the voice of nature had conquered. I now knew that it was highly
probable that there was no means that could save us both, that the
question was whether I should perish, or she, and I no longer doubted
that it must be I. I was resolved to liberate her, and then to expiate
my crime; but until extreme necessity compelled, I wanted to act
according to law and justice. That I did so, my conduct proves when the
Supreme Court ordered a fresh examination of the chief witness.
Everything depended upon that; I made over this inquiry also to
another--who assuredly did not bring the truth to light. The Supreme
Court confirmed the sentence of death; it was pronounced upon me, not
upon my child; that extreme necessity had now arrived, I now knew that
I must become a criminal, and only waited for the result of the
Counsel's petition for pardon, because the preparations for the act
required time, and because I first wanted to save some men unjustly
accused of political offences."
"I remember, the workmen," said the Minister. He still seemed dazed, it
cost him an effort to follow the unhappy man's train of thought. "One
thing only I do not understand," he slowly said, passing his hand over
his forehead. "Why did you not discover yourself to me, or why did you
not appeal to the Emperor for pardon?"
"For two reasons," replied Sendlingen. "I have all my life striven to
execute Justice without respect of persons. It was ever a tormenting
thought to me that the Aristocrat, the Plutocrat, often receives where
the law alone should decide, favours that would never fall to the lot
of the poor and humble. And therefore it was painful to me to lay claim
to such a favour for myself."
"You are indeed a man of rare sense of justice," cried the Minister.
"And that such a fate should have, befallen you....."
He paused.
"Is tragic indeed," supplemented Sendlingen, his lips trembling.
"Certainly it is---- But I will not make, myself out better than I am;
there was another reason why I hesitated to appeal to the Emperor. What
would have been the result, your Excellency? Commutation to penal
servitude for life, or for twenty years. The mere announcement of this
punishment would have so profoundly affected this weakly, broken-down
girl, that she would scarcely have survived it, and if she had--a
complete pardon could not have been attained for ten, for eight, in the
most favourable case for five years, and she would not have lived to
see it. I was persuaded of that, quite firmly persuaded, still," his
voice became lower, "I too was only a human being. When I received the
confirmation of the death-sentence by the Emperor, cowardice and
selfishness got the better of me, I journeyed to Vienna--it was the
18th February."
"The date of the attempt!" cried the Minister. "What a frightful
coincidence! Thus does fate sport with the children of men."
"So I thought at first!" replied Sendlingen. "But then I saw that that
coincidence had not decided my fate: it was sealed from the first. By
my whole character and by all that had happened. In this sense there is
a Fate, in this sense what happens in the world _must_ happen, and my
fate is only a proof of what takes place in millions of cases. I
returned to Bolosch and liberated my daughter. How I succeeded, I am
prepared to tell my Judges so far as my own share in the act is
concerned. I had no accomplice among the prison officials. Your
Excellency will believe me, although I can only call to witness my own
word, the word of honour of a criminal!"
"I believe you," said the Minister. "You took the girl abroad?"
"Yes, and sought to make good my neglect. Fate was gracious to me, my
daughter is cared for. And I may now do that which I was from the first
resolved to do, although I did not know when the day would be
vouchsafed me to dare it--I may present myself to you, the supreme
guardian of Justice in this land, and say: 'Deliver me to my Judges!'"
Sendlingen was silent; the Minister, too, at first could find no words.
White as a ghost, he paced up and down the room. "But there can be no
question of such a thing!" he cried at length. "For thousands of
reasons! We are not barbarians!"
"It can be and must be! I claim my right!"
"But just consider!" cried the Minister, wringing his hands. "It would
be the most fearful blow that the dignity of Justice could receive. A
former Chief-Justice as a criminal in the dock! A man like you! Besides
you deserve no punishment! When I consider what you have suffered, how
all this has come about--good God, I should be a monster if I were not
moved, if I did not say: if this man were perhaps really a criminal, he
has already atoned for it a thousand times over."
"Then you refuse me justice?"
"It would be injustice! Go in peace, my Lord, and return to your
daughter."
"I cannot. I could not endure the pangs of my conscience! If you refuse
to punish me, I shall openly accuse myself!"
"Great Heavens! this only was wanting!" The Minister drew nearer to
him. "I beseech you, let these things rest in peace! Do not bring upon
that office of which you were so long an ornament, the worst blemish
that could befal it. And your act would have still worse consequences:
it would undermine the authority of the State. Consider the times in
which we live--the Revolution is smouldering under its ashes."
"I cannot help it, your Excellency. Do your duty voluntarily, and do
not oblige me to compel you to it."
The Minister looked at him: in his face there was the quiet of
immovable resolve. "A fanatic," he thought, "what shall I do with him?"
He walked about the room in a state of irresolution.
"My Lord," he then began, "you would oblige the State to take defensive
measures. Accuse yourself openly by a pamphlet published abroad, and I
would give out that you were mad. I should be believed, you need not
doubt."
"I do doubt it," replied Sendlingen. "I should take care that there was
no room left for any question as to my sanity. Once more, and for the
last time, I ask your Excellency, to what Court am I to surrender
myself?"
Again the Minister for a long while paced helplessly up and down. At
length a saving thought seemed to occur to him.
"Be it so," he said. "Do what you cannot help doing; we, on the other
hand, will do what our duty commands. You naturally want to conceal
where your daughter is now living?"
Sendlingen turned still paler and made no reply.
"But we shall endeavor to find out, even if it should cost thousands,
and if we should have to employ all the police in the world. We shall
find your daughter and demand her extradition. There is no state that
would refuse to deliver a legally condemned murderess! You must decide,
my Lord, whether this is to happen."
Sendlingen's face had grown deadly pale--a fit of shuddering shook his
limbs. There was a long silence in the room, it endured perhaps five
minutes. At length Sendlingen muttered:
"I submit to your Excellency's will. May God forgive you what you have
just done to me."
The Minister gave a sigh of relief. "I will take that on my
conscience," he said. "I restore the father to his child. Farewell, my
Lord."
Sendlingen did not take the proffered hand, he bowed silently and
departed.
* * * * *
Two days later Dr. George Berger received a letter of Sendlingen's,
dated from Trieste. It briefly informed his friend of the purport of
his interview with the Minister of Justice, and concluded as follows:
"It is denied me to expiate my crime: it is impossible to me, a
criminal, to go unpunished through life; so I am going to meet death.
When you read this, all will be over. Break the news to my daughter,
who has already set out on her journey, as gently as possible; hide the
truth from her, I shall help you by the manner in which I am doing the
deed. And do not forget Franz, he is waiting for me at Cologne; I was
only able to get quit of him under a pretext.
"Farewell, thou good and faithful friend, and do not condemn me. You
once said to me: there must be a solution of these complications, a
liberating solution. I do not know if there was any other, any better
than that which has come to pass. For see, my child has received her
just due, and so too has Justice: with a higher price than that of his
life, nobody can atone for a crime. And I--I have seen my child's
happiness, I have honourably paid all my debts, and now I shall find
peace forever--I too have received my due!... And now I may hope for
your respect again!
"Farewell! and thanks a thousand times!
"Victor."
Berger, deeply moved, had just finished reading this letter, when his
clerk entered with the morning paper in his hand.
"Have you read this, Sir?" he asked. "Baron Sendlingen----"
He laid the paper before his chief and this was what was in it:
"A telegram from Vienna brings us the sad news that Baron von
Sendlingen, the retired Chief Justice and one of the most highly
esteemed men in Austria, fell overboard while proceeding by the Lloyd
steamer last night from Trieste to Venice. He was on deck late in the
evening and has not been seen since; very likely, while leaning too far
over the bulwarks, a sudden giddiness may have seized him so that he
fell into the sea and disappeared. The idea of suicide cannot for
personal reasons be entertained for a moment; the last person he spoke
to, the captain of the steamer, testifies to the cheerful demeanour of
the deceased. He leaves no family, but everyone who knew him will mourn
him.
"All honour to his memory!"
"All honour to his memory!" muttered Berger, burying his face in his
hands.
THE END.