Every one present looked dumfounded. Wegstetten thrust his sword angrily against the ground. God in heaven! was the fellow an ass? Now his fate was sealed! Those who were assisting at the court-martial looked indignant; the chief of them, a major of dragoons, tapped impatiently on the table with his gold pencil-case, and gave a condemnatory shake of his head. The youngest of his colleagues, a senior-lieutenant in the grenadiers, twirled his moustache briskly; the expression of his face said plainly: "Just wait a bit! we'll give you a lesson!" The public prosecutor beamed. He rose with an air of triumph, and demanded, "having full regard for all the extenuating circumstances of the case, but also in consideration of the obstinate persistence of the accused in his offence," a punishment of nine months' imprisonment. Vogt turned as pale as death when he heard these words. This was impossible! It could not, it ought not to be! The court was not long in coming to its decision, and its judgment was read out by the president in a quiet even tone of voice. The accused hung on his lips with anxious expectation. At last, after all the formalities, came the verdict: "five months' imprisonment." He leant against the railing that separated him from his judges. The wood gave a creak. Long after the fat gentleman had sat down again Vogt went on listening. Surely something more was coming; some mitigation of this terrible sentence? But the trial was at an end. The condemned man was taken away by a non-commissioned officer; he walked with unsteady steps, his eyes staring into vacancy. In the passage outside he caught sight of Wegstetten. The captain was talking to an old man in civilian clothes. Vogt felt a thrill when he saw the white hair that surrounded the old man's face. But it was only after he had gone round the next corner of the passage that the recognition struck him: great God, it was his father! Involuntarily he stopped and tried to turn back; but the non-com, took his arm and pushed him forward, not roughly, yet in such fashion that the prisoner gave up his attempt. "You fool, you!" said his companion; "if you had said you were quite sick with shame for your silly behaviour, you'd have got off with a month!" After endless questions the turnpike-keeper had managed to find his way to the court-house of the army-corps. He had been wandering through street after street; the busy traffic of the capital had made his head spin, and he was tired to death with this unwonted tramping over hard stone pavements. He had arrived before the court-room door just as the witnesses were leaving. He had recognised Captain von Wegstetten immediately--his boy had so often described the little man with his gigantic red moustache and sparkling eyes--and he was not afraid of addressing him on the spot. Wegstetten was at first not particularly pleased at this encounter; but the honest troubled face of the old soldier touched him, and he listened patiently.