from the police and had money and precious things!
Luigi was a dreadful individual (ein schrockliches
Subject), to kill a fellow-man (einen Mitmenschen)
meant nothing at all to him! He spoke every language—and
it was he who that time got our things back
from the cook! Don’t ask how! He was
capable of anything, he was an awful man! He
assured the old woman that he would only drug you
a little and then take you out of town and put you
down somewhere and would say that he knew nothing
about it but that it was your fault—that
you had taken too much wine somewhere! But even
then the wretch had it in his mind that it would be
better to kill you so that there would be no one to
tell the tale! He wrote you that letter, signed
with my name and the old woman got me away by craft!
I suspected nothing and I was awfully afraid of Luigi!
He used to say to me, ‘I’ll cut your throat,
I’ll cut your throat like a chicken’s!’
And he used to twitch his moustache so horribly as
he said it! And they dragged me into a bad company,
too.... I am very much ashamed, Mr. Lieutenant!
And even now I shed bitter tears at these memories!
... It seems to me ... ah! I was not born
for such doings.... But there is no help for
it; and this is how it all happened! Afterwards
I was horribly frightened and could not help going
away, for if the police had found us, what would have
happened to us then? That accursed Luigi fled
at once as soon as he heard that you were alive.
But I soon parted from them all and though now I am
often without a crust of bread, my heart is at peace!
You will ask me perhaps why I came to Nikolaev?
But I can give you no answer! I have sworn!
I will finish by asking of you a favour, a very, very
important one: whenever you remember your little
friend Emilie, do not think of her as a black-hearted
criminal! The eternal God sees my heart.
I have a bad morality (Ich habe eine schlechte
moralitat) and I am feather-headed, but I am not
a criminal. And I shall always love and remember
you, my incomparable Florestan, and shall always wish
you everything good on this earthly globe (auf
diesem Erdenrund!). I don’t know whether
my letter will reach you, but if it does, write me
a few lines that I may see you have received it.
Thereby you will make very happy your ever-devoted
Emilie.
“P. S. Write to F. E. poste restante, Breslau,
Silesia.
“P. S. S. I have written to you in German;
I could not express my feelings otherwise; but you
write to me in Russian.”
“Well, did you answer her?” we asked Kuzma
Vassilyevitch.
“I meant to, I meant to many times. But
how was I to write? I don’t know German
... and in Russian, who would have translated it?
And so I did not write.”
And always as he finished his story, Kuzma Vassilyevitch
sighed, shook his head and said, “that’s
what it is to be young!” And if among his audience
was some new person who was hearing the famous story
for the first time, he would take his hand, lay it
on his skull and make him feel the scar of the wound....
It really was a fearful wound and the scar reached
from one ear to the other.
