Her old father let her alone. “She must cure him,” he said, “so that I can question him.” The gay cousin began to feel that his position was not an enviable one, and, after he had allowed his uncle to pay all his debts, left Helenenthal. Old Meyerhofer’s body had been fetched by the twins the day after the fire. His mysterious death made a great sensation; the newspapers in the capital spoke of it, and what he had not attained through his whole life--to be celebrated as a hero--was granted to him in death. But all this time the law was hanging over Paul’s head awaiting his recovery. CHAPTER XXII. The lawyer for the defence had ended. A murmur went through the wide court of the assizes, the galleries of which were crammed with spectators. If the accused did not spoil the effect of the brilliant speech by an imprudent word he was saved. The president’s answer resounded unheard. And now the eye-glasses and opera-glasses began to click. All eyes were directed to the pale, simply-clad man who was sitting in the same dock where, eight years ago, the vicious servant had sat. The president asked whether the accused had anything more to add to strengthen the proof of his innocence. “Silence! silence!” was murmured through the court. But Paul rose and spoke--first, low and hesitatingly, then every moment with greater firmness. “I am heartily sorry that the trouble my defender has taken to save me should have been useless; but I am not as innocent of the deed as he represents.” The judges looked at each other. “What is he at? He is going to speak against himself.” He said: “Anxiety made me nearly unconscious. I then acted in a kind of madness which at that moment rendered me incapable of calculation.” “He is cutting his own throat!” said the audience. “I have all my life been shy and oppressed, and have felt as if I could look nobody in the face, though I had nothing to conceal; but if this time I behave in a cowardly manner, I believe I should be less able to do so than ever--and this time I should have good reason enough for it. My defender has also represented my former life as a pattern of all virtues. But this was not so, either. I lacked dignity and self-possession; I passed over too much as regards both other people and myself, and that has always rankled in my mind, though I was never clear about it. Too much has weighed upon me to enable me ever to breathe freely as a man should if he does not want to grow dull and care-laden. This deed has made me free, and has given me that which I lacked so long; it has been a great happiness to me; and should I be so ungrateful as to deny it to-day? No; I will not do that. Let them imprison me as long as they like. I shall abide my time and begin a new life.