MR. Y. [With a poorly suppressed snarl] Nothing at all.
MR. X. Now you lie--because you are too much of a coward to say all you think.
MR. Y. Am I a coward? You think so? But I was no coward when I dared to show myself around here, where I had had to suffer as I did.--But can you tell what makes one suffer most while in there?-- It is that the others are not in there too!
MR. X. What others?
MR. Y. Those that go unpunished.
MR. X. Are you thinking of me?
MR. Y. I am.
MR. X. But I have committed no crime.
MR. Y. Oh, haven"t you?
MR. X. No, a misfortune is no crime.
MR. Y. So, it"s a misfortune to commit murder?
MR. X. I have not committed murder.
MR. Y. Is it not murder to kill a person?
MR. X. Not always. The law speaks of murder, manslaughter, killing in self-defence--and it makes a distinction between intentional and unintentional killing. However--now you really frighten me, for it"s becoming plain to me that you belong to the most dangerous of all human groups--that of the stupid.
MR. Y. So you imagine that I am stupid? Well, listen--would you like me to show you how clever I am?
MR. X. Come on!
MR. Y. I think you"ll have to admit that there is both logic and wisdom in the argument I"m now going to give you. You have suffered a misfortune which might have brought you two years at hard labor. You have completely escaped the disgrace of being punished. And here you see before you a man--who has also suffered a misfortune--the victim of an unconscious impulse--and who has had to stand two years of hard labor for it. Only by some great scientific achievement can this man wipe off the taint that has become attached to him without any fault of his own--but in order to arrive at some such achievement, he must have money--a lot of money--and money this minute! Don"t you think that the other one, the unpunished one, would bring a little better balance into these unequal human conditions if he paid a penalty in the form of a fine? Don"t you think so?
MR. X. [Calmly] Yes.
MR. Y. Then we understand each other.--Hm! [Pause] What do you think would be reasonable?
MR. X. Reasonable? The minimum fine in such a case is fixed by the law at fifty crowns. But this whole question is settled by the fact that the dead man left no relatives.
MR. Y. Apparently you don"t want to understand. Then I"ll have to speak plainly: it is to me you must pay that fine.
MR. X. I have never heard that forgers have the right to collect fines imposed for manslaughter. And, besides, there is no prosecutor.
MR. Y. There isn"t? Well--how would I do?
MR. X. Oh, _now_ we are getting the matter cleared up! How much do you want for becoming my accomplice?
MR. Y. Six thousand crowns.
MR. X. That"s too much. And where am I to get them?
(MR. Y. points to the box.)
MR. X. No, I don"t want to do that. I don"t want to become a thief.
MR. Y. Oh, don"t put on any airs now! Do you think I"ll believe that you haven"t helped yourself out of that box before?
MR. X. [As if speaking to himself] Think only, that I could let myself be fooled so completely. But that"s the way with these soft natures. You like them, and then it"s so easy to believe that they like you. And that"s the reason why I have always been on my guard against people I take a liking to!--So you are firmly convinced that I have helped myself out of the box before?
MR. Y. Certainly! MR. X. And you are going to report me if you don"t get six thousand crowns?
MR. Y. Most decidedly! You can"t get out of it, so there"s no use trying.
MR. X. You think I am going to give my father a thief for son, my wife a thief for husband, my children a thief for father, my fellow-workers a thief for colleague? No, that will never happen!-- Now I am going over to the sheriff to report the killing myself.
MR. Y. [Jumps up and begins to pick up his things] Wait a moment!
MR. X. For what?
MR. Y. [Stammering] Oh, I thought--as I am no longer needed--it wouldn"t be necessary for me to stay--and I might just as well leave.
MR. X. No, you may not!--Sit down there at the table, where you sat before, and we"ll have another talk before you go.
MR. Y. [Sits down after having put on a dark coat] What are you up to now?
MR. X. [Looking into the mirror back of MR. Y.] Oh, now I have it!
Oh-h-h!
MR. Y. [Alarmed] What kind of wonderful things are you discovering now?
MR. X. I see in the mirror that you are a thief--a plain, ordinary thief! A moment ago, while you had only the white shirt on, I could notice that there was something wrong about my book-shelf. I couldn"t make out just what it was, for I had to listen to you and watch you. But as my antipathy increased, my vision became more acute. And now, with your black coat to furnish the needed color contrast For the red back of the book, which before couldn"t be seen against the red of your suspenders--now I see that you have been reading about forgeries in Bernheim"s work on mental suggestion--for you turned the book upside-down in putting it back.
So even that story of yours was stolen! For tins reason I think myself ent.i.tled to conclude that your crime must have been prompted by need, or by mere love of pleasure.
MR. Y. By need! If you only knew--
MR. X. If _you_ only knew the extent of the need I have had to face and live through! But that"s another story! Let"s proceed with your case. That you have been in prison--I take that for granted.
But it happened in America, for it was American prison life you described. Another thing may also be taken for granted, namely, that you have not borne your punishment on this side.
MR. Y. How can you imagine anything of the kind?
MR. X. Wait until the sheriff gets here, and you"ll learn all about it.
(MR. Y. gets up.)
ME. X. There you see! The first time I mentioned the sheriff, in connection with the storm, you wanted also to run away. And when a person has served out his time he doesn"t care to visit an old mill every day just to look at a prison, or to stand by the window--in a word, you are at once punished and unpunished. And that"s why it was so hard to make you out. [Pause.]
MR. Y. [Completely beaten] May I go now?
MR. X. Now you can go.