"But, but, I will tolerate no buts. Believe me, Botho, it takes years
to settle such questions; I understand such things better. How is it
then? He tips over the ladder by which he has climbed, and even
suppresses the 'Kreuzzeitung,' and, to speak plainly, he ruins us; he
despises us, he tells us foolish things, and if he takes a notion to,
he denounces us for robbery or interception of documents and sends us
to the fortress. But why do I say fortress? The fortress is for decent
people; no, he sends us to the poor-house to pluck wool.... But air,
gentlemen, air. There is no air here. Damnable hole."
And he jumped up, and in addition to the middle window which was
already open, he flung wide the two side windows also, so that the
draught that passed through blew the curtains and the tablecloth about.
Then, sitting down again, he took a piece of ice from the champagne
cooler and passed it over his forehead.
"Ah," he went on, "this piece of ice is the best thing in the whole
breakfast.... And now tell me, Herr von Wedell, am I right or not?
Botho, with your hand on your heart, am I right? Is it not true that
one, as a member of the Maerkisch nobility, may talk oneself into a
charge of high treason simply through the pure indignation of a
nobleman? Such a man ... from one of our very finest families ... finer
than Bismarck's, and so many have fallen for the throne and for the
Hohenzollerns, that you could form a whole regimental company of them,
a company with helmets, and the Boitzenburger to command them. Yes, my
friends. And such an affront to such a family. And what for?
Interception of documents, indiscretion, betrayal of official secrets.
I should like to know if there is anything else left except child
murder and offences against morality, and it is actually strange that
they have not loaded those on also. But you gentlemen are not saying
any thing. Speak out, I beg you. Believe me, I can listen to other
opinions patiently; I am not like him; speak, Herr von Wedell, speak."
Wedell, whose embarrassment was increasing, sought for some soothing
and reconciling words: "Certainly, Herr Baron, it is as you say. But,
pardon me, at the time that the affair was decided, I heard many
express the opinion, and the words have remained in my memory, that the
weaker must give up all idea of crossing the path of the stronger, for
that is impossible in life just as in politics. Once for all it is so:
might is more than right."
"And there is no gainsaying that, no appeal?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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