FullReads

[Mr. Y. rises and walks up and down.]

MR. X.
Sit still. Why can’t you sit quietly.

MR. Y.
How did you get such a liberal attitude towards people’s conduct? Are you a Christian?

MR. X.
No,–of course I couldn’t be,–as you’ve just heard. The Christians demand forgiveness, but I demand punishment for the restoration of balance, or whatever you like to call it, and you, who have served time, ought to understand that.

MR. Y.
[Stops as if transfixed. Regards Mr. X. at first with wild hatred, them with surprise and wonderment.]

How–do–you–know–that?

MR. X.
It’s plain to be seen.

MR. Y.
How? How can you see it?

MR. X.
I have taught myself. That’s an art, too. But we won’t talk about that matter.

[Looks at his watch. Takes out a paper for signing. Dips a pen and offers it to Mr. Y.]
I must think about my muddled affairs. Now be so kind as to witness my signature on this note, which I must leave at the bank at Malmoe when I go there with you tomorrow morning.

MR. Y.
I don’t intend to go by way of Malmoe.

MR. X.
No?

MR. Y.
No.

MR. X.
But you can witness my signature nevertheless.

MR. Y.
No-o. I never sign my name to papers–

MR. X.
–Any more! That’s the fifth time that you have refused to write your name. The first time was on a postal receipt,–and it was then that I began to observe you; and now, I see that you have a horror of touching pen and ink. You haven’t sent a letter since you’ve been here. Just one postal-card, and that you wrote with a blue pencil. Do you see now how I have figured out your mis-step? Furthermore, this is the seventh time that you have refused to go to Malmoe, where you have not gone since you have been here. Nevertheless you came here from America just to see Malmoe; and every morning you have walked southward three miles and a half to the windmill hill just to see the roofs of Malmoe; also, when you stand at the right-hand window, through the third window-pane to the left, counting from the bottom up, you can see the turrets of the castle, and the chimneys on the state prison. Do you see now that it is not that I am so clever but that you are so stupid?

MR. Y.
Now you hate me.

MR. X.
No.

MR. Y.
Yes, you do, you must.

MR. X.
No–see, here’s my hand.

MR. Y.
[Kisses the proffered hand].

MR. X.
[Drawing back his hand].

What dog’s trick is that?

MR. Y.
Pardon! But thou art the first to offer me his hand after knowing–

MR. X.
–And now you are “thou-ing” me! It alarms me that, after serving your time, you do not feel your honor retrieved, that you do not feel on equal footing,–in fact, just as good as any one. Will you tell me how it happened? Will you?

MR. Y.
[Dubiously].

Yes, but you won’t believe what I say. I’m going to tell you, though, and you shall see that I was not a common criminal. You shall be convinced that mis-steps are made, as one might say, involuntarily–

[Shakily]
as if they came of their own accord, spontaneously, without intention, blamelessly!–Let me open the window a little. I think the thunder shower-has passed over.