that I have trouble with my eyes; they
will say that I stumbled and tried to hold on to you and dragged you
down with me. My life is of no value after what I have heard today,
but your children's is just beginning. And no disgrace shall be
attached to them, as truly as my name is Nettenmair. Make up your mind
now what is to be done. I shall count thirty--by the pendulum there."

Fritz Nettenmair had listened to his father's words with growing
horror. That his deed had not yet become generally known, gave him
hope. Fear of impending death aroused his energies. He took refuge
again in defiance. Vehemently he declared: "I do not know what you
want. I am innocent. I do not know what you mean by an ax." He
expected his father to enter into his protest, even if sceptically at
first. But the old gentleman began calmly to count--"one--two--"

"Father!" he cried with increasing fear, and his mocking defiance
broke into a wail. "Only listen to me. The courts would listen and you
will not. I will throw myself over because you want me to be dead; I
will die, though I am innocent. But at least listen to me." The old
gentleman gave no answer; he counted on. The miserable man saw that
sentence had been pronounced. His father would not believe him no
matter what he said, and he knew that what the stubborn old man
undertook, he always carried out, unrelentingly. First he decided to
acquiesce in his fate; then the thought came to him that he would
plead again; and then it occurred to him that he could push the old
man aside and make his escape; then that he could hang on to something
in some way when the old man caught hold of him and not fall with him.
Nobody could blame him for this. Through all these thoughts he saw
shudderingly what awaited him if he escaped and the courts should
seize him. It was better to die now. But on the other side of death
something still more terrible awaited him. He looked back and lived
his whole life through in a moment to see if the eternal Judge would
find pardon for him. His thoughts became confused, he was now here,
now there, and had forgotten why. He saw the mist gathering in which
the workman had disappeared and at the same time he looked into the
bright windows of the Red Eagle inn where he heard voices: "There he
comes--now the fun will begin." He stood on the street corners and
counted, and the boards beneath Apollonius would not break, nor the
ropes above him; he stood before his wife and, lea