the lodge stood, he twice called the watchman. No answer followed. Evidently the watchman had sought shelter from the weather, and was now asleep somewhere either in the kitchen or in the greenhouse.
"If I had the pluck to carry out my intention," thought the old man, "Suspicion would fall first upon the watchman."
He felt in the darkness for the steps and the door, and went into the entry of the lodge. Then he groped his way into a little passage and lighted a match. There was not a soul there. There was a bedstead with no bedding on it, and in the corner there was a dark cast-iron stove. The seals on the door leading to the prisoner's rooms were intact.
When the match went out the old man, trembling with emotion, peeped through the little window. A candle was burning dimly in the prisoner's room. He was sitting at the table. Nothing could be seen but his back, the hair on his head, and his hands. Open books were lying on the table, on the two easy-chairs, and on the carpet near the table.
Five minutes passed and the prisoner did not once stir. Fifteen years' imprisonment had taught him to sit still. The banker tapped at the window with his finger, and the prisoner made no movement whatever in response. Then the banker cautiously broke the seals off the door and put the key in the keyhole. The rusty lock gave a grating sound and the door creaked. The banker expected to hear at once footsteps and a cry of astonishment, but three minutes passed and it was as quiet as ever in the room. He made up his mind to go in.
At the table a man unlike ordinary people was sitting motionless. He was a skeleton with the skin drawn tight over his bones, with long curls like a woman's and a shaggy beard. His face was yellow with an earthy tint in it, his cheeks were hollow, his back long and narrow, and the hand on which his shaggy head was propped was so thin and delicate that it was dreadful to look at it. His hair was already streaked with silver, and seeing his emaciated, aged-looking face, no one would have believed that he was only forty. He was asleep. . . . In front of his bowed head there lay on the table a sheet of paper on which there was something written in fine handwriting.
"Poor creature!" thought the banker, "he is asleep and most likely dreaming of the millions. And I have only to take this half-dead man, throw him on the bed, stifle him a little with the pillow, and the most conscientious expert would find no sign of a violent death. But let us first read what he has written here. . . ."
The banker took the page from the table and read as follows:
"To-morrow at twelve o'clock I regain my freedom and the right to associate with other men, but before I leave this room and see the sunshine, I think it necessary to say a few words to you. With a clear conscience I tell you, as before God, who beholds me, that I despise freedom and life and health, and all that in your books is called the good things of the world.
"For fifteen years I have been intently studying earthly life. It is true I have not seen the earth nor men, but in your books I have drunk fragrant wine, I have sung songs, I have hunted stags and wild boars in the forests, have loved women. . . . Beauties as ethereal as
ลอดจ์ที่ยืน เขาสองเรียกยาม ไม่มีคำตอบตาม อย่างเห็นได้ชัดยามได้แสวงหาที่หลบภัยจากสภาพอากาศ และตอนนี้หลับอยู่ ในห้องครัว หรือ ในเรือนกระจก"ถ้าผมถอนจะดำเนินการความตั้งใจของผม ความคิดที่เก่าแก่ "สงสัยจะ ตกครั้งแรกเมื่อยามนี้"เขารู้สึกในความมืดสำหรับขั้นตอนและประตู และเข้าไปในรายการของลอดจ์ เขาคลำทางของเขาเป็นทางเดินเล็ก ๆ แล้วสว่างตรงกัน ไม่มีจิตวิญญาณมี มี bedstead ด้วยนอนไม่มัน และที่มุม มีเตาหล่อเข้ม แมวน้ำที่ประตูที่นำไปสู่ห้องของนักโทษได้เหมือนเดิมเมื่อการแข่งขันก็ออกชรา สะทกอารมณ์ peeped ผ่านหน้าต่างน้อย เทียนกำลังไหม้แสงสลัวในห้องของนักโทษ เขานั่งที่โต๊ะ ไม่มีอะไรอาจจะเห็นแต่ด้านหลังของเขา ผมบนหัวของเขา และมือของเขา เปิดหนังสือถูกนอนอยู่ บนโต๊ะ บนสองง่ายเก้าอี้ และ บนพรมใกล้กับโต๊ะผ่านไปห้านาที และนักโทษไม่เคยผัด จำคุกสิบห้าปีได้สอนเขานั่งนิ่ง เจ้ามือเคาะที่หน้าต่างด้วยนิ้วของเขา และนักโทษไม่เคลื่อนไหวใด ๆ ในการตอบ แล้วเจ้ามือหักสัญลักษณ์การปิดประตูด้วยความระมัดระวัง และที่สำคัญใส่ในรูกุญแจ ล็อคเป็นสนิมให้เสียง grating และประตู creaked เจ้ามือคาดว่าจะได้ยินพร้อมกันรอยเท้าและการร้องไห้ของเมือ แต่สามนาทีผ่าน และมันก็เป็นเงียบเช่นเคยในห้อง เขาได้ขึ้นใจของเขาไปในAt the table a man unlike ordinary people was sitting motionless. He was a skeleton with the skin drawn tight over his bones, with long curls like a woman's and a shaggy beard. His face was yellow with an earthy tint in it, his cheeks were hollow, his back long and narrow, and the hand on which his shaggy head was propped was so thin and delicate that it was dreadful to look at it. His hair was already streaked with silver, and seeing his emaciated, aged-looking face, no one would have believed that he was only forty. He was asleep. . . . In front of his bowed head there lay on the table a sheet of paper on which there was something written in fine handwriting."Poor creature!" thought the banker, "he is asleep and most likely dreaming of the millions. And I have only to take this half-dead man, throw him on the bed, stifle him a little with the pillow, and the most conscientious expert would find no sign of a violent death. But let us first read what he has written here. . . ."The banker took the page from the table and read as follows:"To-morrow at twelve o'clock I regain my freedom and the right to associate with other men, but before I leave this room and see the sunshine, I think it necessary to say a few words to you. With a clear conscience I tell you, as before God, who beholds me, that I despise freedom and life and health, and all that in your books is called the good things of the world."For fifteen years I have been intently studying earthly life. It is true I have not seen the earth nor men, but in your books I have drunk fragrant wine, I have sung songs, I have hunted stags and wild boars in the forests, have loved women. . . . Beauties as ethereal as
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