"
They reached the Castle, turned aside, and entered the park; they forgot
that time was passing. He had started in to tell her a story from the
day's news, a scene from one of the courts: A man was being tried for
murder and had confessed. The question of mitigating circumstances arose,
and it was decided that there were mitigating circumstances. All right;
penitentiary for life. "Next case!" Suddenly a voice is heard from among
the spectators; it is the murderer's sweetheart, who shouts: "His
confession is untrue; he has not committed murder! How could he possibly
have done it; no one who knows him will believe it! And there are
mitigating circumstances; you cannot sentence him, for it wasn't
premeditated murder! No, Henry is innocent! Won't any of you who know him
say that he is innocent? Why are you all silent?" And the lady was led out
of the courtroom. That was love!
Aagot, the little goose, was moved. How beautiful--sad and beautiful! And
they carried her out? What a tragedy!
"Well, probably the story is a little exaggerated," he said. "Love as
strong as that does not grow on the bushes nowadays."
"But it does exist!"
"Perhaps, somewhere--on the Isle of the Blest--" But this expression awoke
the poet in him, and he rhapsodised.
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