And yet that young man was wrapped in a mantle which at this distance seemed to be green; his disordered hair was chestnut, and the unexpected gleam which revealed his features--But no; it was not true. It could not be! It was some horrid delusion! The prisoners were seated on the bench beside the bishop. Schumacker took his place at one end; he was separated from the chestnut-haired young man by his four companions in misfortune, who wore coarse clothes, and among whom was one of gigantic stature. The bishop sat at the other end of the bench. Ethel saw the president turn to her father, saying in a stern voice: “Old man, tell us your name, and who you are.” The old man raised his venerable head. “Once,” he replied, looking steadily at the president, “I was Count Griffenfeld and Tönsberg, Prince of Wollin, Prince of the Holy German Empire, Knight of the Royal Orders of the Elephant and the Dannebrog, Knight of the Golden Fleece in Germany and of the Garter in England, Prime Minister, Lord Rector of all our Universities, Lord High Chancellor of Denmark, and--” The president interrupted him: “Prisoner, the court does not ask who you were, nor what your name once was, but who you are and what it now is.” “Well,” answered the old man, quickly, “my name is John Schumacker now; I am sixty-nine years old, and I am nothing but your former benefactor, Chancellor d’Ahlefeld.” The president seemed confused. “I recognized you, Count,” added the ex-chancellor, “and as I thought you did not know me, I took the liberty to remind your Grace that we are old acquaintances.” “Schumacker,” said the president, in a voice trembling with concentrated fury, “do not trifle with the court.” The aged prisoner again interrupted him: “We have changed places, noble Chancellor; I used to call you ‘d’Ahlefeld,’ and you addressed me as ‘Count.’” “Prisoner,” replied the president, “you only injure your cause by recalling the infamous decree which already brands your name.” “If that sentence entailed infamy on any one, Count d’Ahlefeld, it was not on me.” The old man half rose as he spoke these words with great emphasis. The president waved his hand. “Sit down. Do not insult, in the presence of the court, the judges who condemned you, and the king who surrendered you to those judges. Recollect that his Majesty deigned to grant you your life, and confine yourself to defending it.” Schumacker’s only answer was a shrug of the shoulders. “Have you,” asked the president, “anything to say in regard to the charges preferred against you?” Seeing that Schumacker was silent, the president repeated his question.