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'He who is ever thinking never grows old. I shall die young, like all whom the gods love. Waiter, give Mr. Grunbitz a cup of chocolate. 'Thank you but I don't care for any. 'You cannot refuse you will pain Witberg, said the poet simply.
In the afternoon papers the first headline that caught Watson's eye was: "CARTER WATSON ACQUITTED." In the second paper it was: "CARTER WATSON ESCAPES A FINE." But what capped everything was the one beginning: "CARTER WATSON A GOOD FELLOW." In the text he read how Judge Witberg had advised both fighters to shake hands, which they promptly did.
He struck himself with a rock. He struck himself with two different rocks." "Does it stand to reason that a man, any man not a lunatic, would so injure himself, and continue to injure himself, by striking the soft and sensitive parts of his face with a stone?" Carter Watson demanded "It sounds like a fairy story," was the Justice's comment. "Mr. Witberg, had you been drinking?" "No, sir."
As I have said, and I repeat, there is no legal way for me to determine who struck the first blow. Therefore, and much to my regret," here he paused and glared at Sol Witberg "in each of these cases I am compelled to give the defendant the benefit of the doubt. Gentlemen, you are both dismissed."
"Let us have a nip on it," Watson said to Witberg, as they left the courtroom; but that outraged person refused to lock arms and amble to the nearest saloon. PETER WINN lay back comfortably in a library chair, with closed eyes, deep in the cogitation of a scheme of campaign destined in the near future to make a certain coterie of hostile financiers sit up.
Judge Witberg was painfully flustered, and as he hemmed and hawed and essayed to speak, Watson, looking at him, was struck by a sudden whim, and he determined on a grim and facetious antic. "I should scarcely expect any animus from a man of your acquirements and knowledge of the world," the Judge was saying. "Animus?" Watson replied. "Certainly not. I haven't such a thing in my nature.
"I am paid by the People to prosecute, and prosecute I will. But let me tell you. You have no chance. We shall lump both cases into one, and you watch out." Judge Witberg looked good to Watson. A fairly young man, short, comfortably stout, smooth-shaven and with an intelligent face, he seemed a very nice man indeed.
"I was strolling casually along the street, your Honor," Watson began, but was interrupted by the Judge. "We are not here to consider your previous actions," bellowed Judge Witberg. "Who struck the first blow?" "Your Honor," Watson pleaded, "I have no witnesses of the actual fray, and the truth of my story can only be brought out by telling the story fully " Again he was interrupted.
At the height of the wrangle, he giggled, once, aloud, and earned a sullen frown from Judge Witberg. Worse, a myriad times, he decided, were these bullying lawyers and this bullying judge then the bucko mates in first quality hell-ships, who not only did their own bullying but protected themselves as well.
The play, which I had not read since my youth, and then only in a mediocre Hebrew version, appeared unspeakably childish in places. Take, for example, the Ghost these almond-cakes are as stale as sermons; command me a cream-tart, Witberg. What was I saying? 'The Ghost, murmured a dozen voices. 'Ah, yes now, how can a ghost affect a modern audience which no longer believes in ghosts?
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