"Then speak it," said the judge, and holding Konrad's hand firmly in
his, broke out with: "Don't you see, it's cruel to think, to believe,
that we must be the personal enemies of all whom we're obliged to
condemn. You think the proceedings in court were so callous, you've no
idea how we actually feel about the business. It is not only the
accused who passes sleepless nights--the judge, too, knows them. We
lawyers--outside our profession--have founded an association to support
and encourage those we are obliged to pronounce guilty, that they may
not sink down uncomforted. So, my dear Ferleitner, you may trust me
that, as far as I can, I will alleviate your position."

Then Konrad, looking down on the floor, said: "I should like to have
writing materials."

"You want to write?" asked the Judge.

"If I might ask for paper, pens, and ink," returned Konrad. "In former
years I used to like writing down my thoughts--just as they came, I had
little education."

"You wish to write to your friends?" inquired the judge.

"Oh no! If I had any, they'd be glad not to hear from me," said Konrad.

"Or to draw up a plea of justification?"

"No."

"Or an account of your life?"