SKETCHED AT MIDNIGHT.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 6418, 31 March 1892, Page 4

SKETCHED AT MIDNIGHT.

CHAPTER 111.

Schliiseel thrust me into a high and gloomy hall, with benches in a semicircle. The aspect of this hall, with its two high, grated windows, its Ctu-iat in old polished oak, his anne stretched out and his head bowed in anguish on his shoulder, inspired in me a religious fear in aecoid with my actnal situation. All my thoughts of a false aoousation disappeared, and my lips moved, murmuring a prayer. It had been long since I had prayed, but misfortune always leads us to thoughts of dovotion. Man is so insignificent. Before me, on a raiaed seat, were two persons, with their backs to the light, which left their faces in the shade. Nevertheless, I recognised Van Spreokdal by his aquiline profile, lighted up by the reflection from a glass. The other man was large. He had a full face, and his hands wero short; he wore the Judge's robe aa Van Spreckdol did. Below Conrad, the clerk was seated; he was writing at a low table and occasionally rubbing his ear with his quill. On my arrival he stopped to look at me with an air of curiosity. I was ordered to sit dewn, and Van Spreckdal, raising his voice, said to me, " Christian Venius, whero did you obtain this design P" He showed me the night sketch, then in hie possession. He caused it to bo handed tome. After having examined it, I replied, 11 1 am the artist."

There was quite a long silence ; the clerk took down my reply. I heard his pen run over the paper and I thought: " What is the meaning of this question they have just put to me ? It has nothing to do with my kick on Rap's spine." "You are the artist?" replied Van Bpreokdal. "What is the subject?" " The subject is one of my imagination." "You have not copied these details in any particular ?" " No, sir; I have imagined them all." "Prisoner Christian," said tho Judge in a severe tone, " I invite you to reflect. Do not lie!"

I reddened, and in a loud tone exclaimed, "I have spoken the truth." "Take down the reply, clerk," said Van Spreckdal.

The pen ran anew.

"And this woman," continued thoJudge —" this woman, murdered on the edge of this well, have you also imngined her ?'' "Undoubtedly." " You have never seen her ?" "Never." Van Spreckdal rose, as if indignant; then sitting down again, he Beemed to consult in a low voice with his associate. Those two dark profiles, standing out against the light background of the window—the three gaolers—the deep silence in the hall—filled me with fear. " W hat do 1 hey wish of me ? What have I done?" murmured I. Suddenly Van Spreckdal eaid to my guard, "You can reconduct tho prisoner to the carriage; we shall start for Metzer straese." Then, addressingme, "ChristianVemue," he exclaimed, "you are in a deplorable etate. Recollect yourself, and consider that if man's justice is inflexible, God's mercy awaits you. You caa merit it by avowing your crime." His words stunned me liko a blow. I fell back, with my arms stretched out, Baying, "Ah! what a frightful dream!" And I fainted. When I returned to consciousness the carriage was rolling slowly along tho street; another preceded us. The two police agents were always there. One of them, on the way, offered a pinch of snuS to his fellowofficer ; mechanically I stretched out my fingers towards the snuff box ; he quickly drew it back. The blueh of ahame rushed to my cheeks, and I turned my head to conceal my feelings. "If you look out," said this man, "we shall be forced to place handcuffs on you." " May the devil choke you, you infernal scoundrel!" thought I. As the carriage had just stopped one of them got down, while tho other held me by the collar; then, eeeing his comrade ready to receive me, he pushed me out roughly. These numerous precautions to make sure of my person foreboded me no good, but I was far trom foreseeing the seriousness of tho accusation which hung over me, when a frightful event opened my eyes at last and threw me into despair. My guards thrust me into a dirty alloy, with an uneven and broken pavement; along tha wall trickled a yellowish ooze, giving forth a sickening stench. I walked in the middle of the dark passage, the two men following me. Far in, the dim light of an inner court waa seen. The further I advanced, the more and more was I overcome with terror. It was not an ordinary feeling, but a deep, supernatural presage, like a nightmare. I instinctively recoiled at each step. " Go on," exclaimed one of my guards, placing hie hand on my shoulder, "hurry up." What was my dismay when, at the end of the passage, I saw the court I had sketched the night before, with its walls lined with hooks, its hen-coop and rabbitcub. Not a ray of light, big or small, far up or down ; not a broken pane of glass, not a mingle detail, had been omitted, I stood thunderstruck by thia strange revelation. Near the well the two judges, Van Spreckdal and Eichter, were standing. At their feet, the old woman was lying flat on her back, her long grey hair dishevelled and her face discolored, with her eyes wide open and her tongue fastened between her teeth. It was a horrible sight. " Well," said Van Spreckdal to me, in an awful voice, " what have you to say?" v.I did not reply. g"Do you remember, now, having thrown this woman, Theresa Becker, into this well, after having strangled her to iob her of her money P" "No!" cried I—"no! I do not know that woman ; 1 have never seen her, so help me God!"

" That is enough," replied he in a sharp tone. And, without adding , a word, he rapidly walked away with his associate.

The police then thought it necessary to put the handcuffs on me. They again led me to jail. Ino longer knew what to think or do—even my conscience troubled me; I asked myself if I had not assassinated the old woman. In the eyes of my guards I was already convicted.

I shall not detail my emotions during the night in prison, when, seated on the bundle of straw, with the light in front of me and the gallows in view, I heard the watchman cry out in the silence, " Sleep, good peoplu of Nuremburg ; may the Lord wutch over you ! One o'clock ! two o'clock! three o'clock!"

Everj' oue can form an idea of a night like it. It has bean well eaid that it is better to be hanged innocent than guilty. For the soul, yes, but for the body it makes nt> difference ; on the contrary, it curses its lot and seeks to escape, well knowing t\xat its role ends with the rope. Added to that, it repents of not having sufficiently enjoyed life—of having listened to the soul preaching abstinence. "Ah! if I had known," it reasons, M you would not have led me in bonds with your big words, your beautiful phrasee, ar.i grand speeches. You would not h«ve lured me with your fine promises. I should have had a good time, and the opportunity for this is now gone. It is over ! You tell me to subdue my passions—well! •' I have overcome them. I am about to bo hanged ; and thou ! later they will call thee sublime soul, martyr to the errors of justice. There will be no thought of me. ' Such were the sad reflections of the flesh,

The day approached; at first wan and Vαdistinct, it illumined with its dim light the bull'B-eye and the cross-bars ; then iv cast itself on the lower part of the wall. Outside, the etreet become animated; it was Friday. I heard the vegetable carts pass and the honest countrymen burdened with their doreels. Some caged hens were cackliDg and tho butter-dealere were talking together. The market opposite was opening and the benoh.ee were being arranged. At last broad daylight came, and the great murmuring of the orow.d» which was increasing, of the housewives, who were gathering with thei;; baskets on their arm, going and coming, pricing and baying, told me it was about 8 o'olock. ■With the day I became a little more hopeful. Some of my gloomy thoughts disappeared. I felt a desire to see what wae going on outside. Some occupants, before me, had raised themßelves to the bull'B-eye; they had dug holes in the wall to get up more easily. I, in my turn, climbed up, and when, seated in the opening, with head bent, I could see the crowd, the life, the bustle t tears ran down my cheeks. I no longer thought of enicide. I felt an extraordinary desire to ,^ T ?'lh!" thought I, "to live, 'tie to be happy • If tlie y wou^d only permit me to araiz a barrow, if they should attach a ball and , obain to my limbs—what would it matter, provided I lived !" The old market, with its cone-shaped roof supported by heavy pillars, was a beautiful sight. The women seated in front of their vegetables, with their hen-coopu etnr-baskete ; behind them the Jew notion Sealers, w nh yellow faces; the butchers, with bared arms, outting the meats on their tjjla; the countrymen, their large felt hats get on the back of their heads, quiet and itupid looking, with their hands behind ! them leaning on their holly sticks and Jointly imwkiPS t&w Tjbea tie

people, the noise of the crowd, the shrill, the brawling, tho deep, the loud voices— the expressive gestures-those unusual attitudes which show, at a distance, the progre'S of discussion and portray so well the character of tho individual - all captivated my mind, and, notwithstanding my sad situation, I was happy, because I was still in tbo world. _ Now, while I was thus looking on. a man a butcher, passed by, his back bent, carrying an enormous quarter of beef on his shoulders ; his arms were biired and raised above his head, and his head bowed. His long hair floating, like that of Salvators Siciimbre, hid his face from me, and yet, at the first sight of him, I trembled. " It is ho !" I exclaimed. The blood rushed to my heart. I jumped to the floor, trembling, my cheeks quivoring and a pallor extending over my face, and I gasped in a smothered voice : "It is, he ! he is there—there, and I may behanged to expiate his crime. O God ! what can be done ? what can I do P A sudden idea, an inspiration _ from Hoavec, crossed my mind. I folt in my pocket; my crayon box was there. Then, rushing to tho wall, I commonoed to trace tho scene of the murdar with strange rapture. )No more uncertainty, no more groping—l knew the man—l had seen him. Ho had stood before me. At 10 o'clock the gaoler entored my cell. His impasgability gave place to astonishment. " Is it possible?" exclaimed ho, stopping at the threshold. " Go seek my judges," I said, continuing my work with increasing excitement. Schliiseel replied, " They await you in the court-room." "I wish to make a revelation," exclaimed I, giving the last stroke to the myoterious person. Hβ lived ;he was frightful to see. His figure, facing the room, foreshortened on the wall, stood out from the white background like life. The gaoler went out. A few minutes afterward the two judges appeared. They stood astonished. I, with extended hand, trembling in every limb, said to them, "There is the assassin !"

Van Spreckdal, after some moments of silence, aaked me his name. "I do not know it; but heis at this moment in tho market, cutting meat at the third stall on the left, enteriog from the street." " What do you think?" he asked, turning to his associate. "Let this man be sought for," replied the other, in a low voice. Several guards standing in the corridor obeyed this order. The judges remained there, still looking at the sketch. I had sunk down on the straw, utterly exhausted. Soon steps were heard at a distance, in the corridor, 'lhose who hare not waited an hour of deliverance and counted the minutes, then as long as years—those who have not been subjected to deep emotions of expectation, fear, hope, and doubt, cannot conceive what I experienced at this time.

I could distinguish the murderer's step, walking between the guards, from all the others. They drew near—the Judges themselves seemed moved. I had raised my head, and with my heart fixed as if in a grasp of iron, looked steadily at the closed door. It opened ; the man entered. His cheeks were ruddy, his jaws protruded, and his little eyes, rod and restless as those of a wolf, glittered under his heavy red blows. Van Spreckdal showed him the sketch in silence.

Then this bloodthirsty man, after looking at it, became white with fear, aud uttering a roar which frightened us, stretched out hie enormous arms and made a leap backward to upset the guards. There was a frighttul struggle in the corridor; we heard the butoher's panting breath, some oaths and quick words, and the guards' feet raised from tho floor, • falling again to the flagatones. This continued for about a minute. At last the assas&in was led in again, with hie head down, and his hands bound behind him. Ho again looked fixedly at the sketch of the murder, seemed to reflect, and in a low voice, as if speaking to himself muttered, " Who could have seen me at midnight?" I was saved ! Many years have passed eince that terrible adventure. Thank God ! Ino longer draw silhouettes nor paint burghermoisters' portraits. By dint of work and perseverance I have won my place in the world, and I gain an honorable living while creating works of art, tho only end to which a true artiet should strive to attain. But the remembranoe of the night sketch is always deeply impressed on my mind. Often, in the midst of my work, my thoughts go hack to it. Then I lay down my palette and muse for hours. How could a crime, accomplished by a man I had never seen, in a place wheie I had never been, be reproduced oven to the leaet detail by my pencil. Was it chance ? No ! And beside, what is chance, after all, except the effect of a cause which is beyond us. Could Schiller have been right when he said : " Tho immortal soul takes no part in the rest of matter; during sleep of the body, it unfolds its radiant wings and departs, God knows where! What it does then, none can say ; but inspiration often betrays the secret of its nocturnal wanderings." Who knows? Nature is bolder in its realities than the imagination of man in his fantasies. ["the end.l