Perhaps before proceeding further, it will be well briefly to recall the motives of General Levin’s visit to Munkholm. The reader will remember the unpleasant news which disturbed the old governor, in the twentieth chapter of this truthful narrative. On receiving it, he at once saw the importance of questioning Schumacker; but he was extremely reluctant to do so. The idea of tormenting a poor prisoner, already a prey to so much that was painful, and whom he had known in his days of power, of severely scanning the secrets of an unfortunate man, even if guilty, was most unpleasant to his kind and generous soul. Still, his duty to the king required it. He ought not to leave Throndhjem without such fresh light as might be gained by questioning the apparent author of the rebellion among the miners. Accordingly, the night before his departure, after a long and confidential talk with Countess d’Ahlefeld, the governor made up his mind to visit the prisoner. As he approached the fortress, thoughts of the interests of the State, of the advantage to which his many personal enemies might turn what they would style his negligence, and perhaps too the crafty words of the chancellor’s wife, worked within him, and confirmed him in his purpose. He therefore climbed to the Lion of Schleswig tower with every intention to be severe; he resolved to bear himself toward Schumacker the conspirator as if he had never known Griffenfeld the chancellor,--to cast aside all his memories, and even his natural disposition, and to speak as a firm judge to this former fellow-sharer in the royal favor. So soon, however, as he entered the ex-chancellor’s apartment, the old man’s venerable though sombre face made a strong impression upon him; Ethel’s sweet though dignified expression touched him; and with his first glance at the two prisoners, his stern intentions died within him. He advanced toward the fallen minister, and involuntarily offered him his hand, saying, without remarking that his politeness met with no response:-- “How are you, Count Griffenf--” His old habit overcame him for the moment; then he corrected himself quickly--“Mr. Schumacker?” With this he paused, satisfied and exhausted by such an effort. Silence ensued. The general racked his brain to find words harsh enough to correspond with this brutal beginning. “Well,” Schumacker said at last, “are you the governor of the province of Throndhjem?” The governor, somewhat surprised to find himself questioned by the man he had meant to question, bowed his head. “Then,” added the prisoner, “I have a complaint to lay before you.” “A complaint! What is it? what is it?” And the kind-hearted Levin’s countenance assumed a look of interest. Schumacker went on, in a tone of considerable annoyance: “By order of the viceroy I am to be left free and undisturbed in this donjon.” “I am aware of the order.” “And yet, Governor, I am importuned and annoyed by visits.”