And so it happened. I had not even known that evening that his birthday was the very next day. For I had not gone out over the past few days, and therefore could not have found out from anyone. Each year on that day he gave a big party; the whole town would come to it. They came this time, too. And so, after dinner, he stepped into the middle of the room with a paper in his hand—a formal statement to the authorities. And since the authorities were right there, he read the paper right then to the whole gathering. It contained a full account of the entire crime in all its details. “As an outcast, I cast myself out from among people. God has visited me,” he concluded the paper, “I want to embrace suffering!” Right then he brought out and placed on the table all the things he fancied would prove his crime and had been keeping for fourteen years: the gold objects belonging to the murdered woman, which he had stolen to divert suspicion from himself; her locket and cross, taken from around her neck—the locket containing a portrait of her fiancé; a notebook, and, finally, two letters: one from her fiancé, informing her of his imminent arrival, and her unfinished reply to his letter, left on the table to be sent to the post office the next day. He had taken both letters—but why? Why had he kept them for fourteen years instead of destroying them as evidence? And what happened then: everyone was astonished and horrified, and no one wanted to believe it, though they listened with great curiosity, but as to a sick man, and a few days later it was all quite decided among them, the verdict being that the unfortunate man had gone mad. The authorities and the court could not avoid starting proceedings, but they also held back: though the articles and letters he produced did make them think, here, too, it was decided that even if the documents proved to be authentic, a final accusation could not be pronounced on the basis of these documents alone. And the articles he might have obtained from the woman herself, as her acquaintance and trustee. I heard, however, that the authenticity of the articles was later verified by many acquaintances and relatives of the murdered woman, and that there were no doubts about that. But, again, the case was destined to be left unfinished. Within five days everyone knew that the sufferer had become ill and that they feared for his life. What the nature of his illness was, I cannot explain; it was said that he had a heart ailment; but it became known that the attending physicians, at his wife’s insistence, also examined his psychological condition, and reached the verdict that madness was indeed present. I betrayed nothing, though they came running to question me, but when I wished to visit him, I was prohibited for a long time, mainly by his wife: “It was you who upset him,” she said to me, “he was gloomy anyway, and over the past year everyone noticed his unusual anxiety and strange actions; then you came along and ruined him, you and your endless reading at him did it; he never left you for a whole month. “ And then not only his wife but everyone in town fell upon me and accused me: “It is all your fault,” they said. I kept silent, and was glad in my soul, for I saw the undoubted mercy of God towards him who had risen against himself and punished himself. I could not believe in his madness. At last they allowed me to see him, he had demanded it insistently in order to say farewell to me. I went in and saw at once that not only his days but even his hours were numbered. He was weak, yellow, his hands trembled, he gasped for breath, but his look was tender and joyful.
“It is finished!” he said to me. “I have long been yearning to see you, why didn’t you come?”
I did not tell him that I had not been allowed to see him.
“God has pitied me and is calling me to himself. I know I am dying, but I feel joy and peace for the first time after so many years. I at once felt paradise in my soul, as soon as I had done what I had to do. Now I dare to love my children and kiss them. No one believes me, neither my wife nor the judges; my children will never believe me either. In that I see the mercy of God towards my children. I shall die and for them my name will remain untainted. And now I am looking towards God, my heart rejoices as in paradise ... I have done my duty ...”
He could not speak, he was gasping for breath, ardently pressing my hand, looking at me fervently. But our conversation was not long, his wife was constantly peeking in at us. Still he managed to whisper to me:
“Do you remember how I came to you again, at midnight? I told you to remember it. Do you know why I came? I came to kill you!”
I started.
