not only following me, but that she was directing me, that she was driving me to right and to left, and that I was unwittingly obeying her.
I still go on, however … but, behold, before me, on my very road, something black and wide … a kind of hole…. 'A grave!' flashed through my head. 'That is where she is driving me!'
I turned sharply back. The old woman faced me again … but she sees! She is looking at me with big, cruel, malignant eyes … the eyes of a bird of prey…. I stoop down to her face, to her eyes…. Again the same opaque membrane, the same blind, dull countenance….
'Ah!' I think, 'this old woman is my fate. The fate from which there is no escape for man!'
'No escape! no escape! What madness…. One must try.' And I rush away in another direction.
I go swiftly…. But light footsteps as before patter behind me, close, close…. And before me again the dark hole.
Again I turn another way…. And again the same patter behind, and the same menacing blur of darkness before.
And whichever way I run, doubling like a hunted hare … it's always the same, the same!
'Wait!' I think, 'I will cheat her! I will go nowhere!' and I instantly sat down on the ground.
The old woman stands behind, two paces from me. I do not hear her, but I feel she is there.
And suddenly I see the blur of darkness in the distance is floating, creeping of itself towards me!
God! I look round again … the old woman looks straight at me, and her toothless mouth is twisted in a grin.
No escape!
THE DOG
Us two in the room; my dog and me…. Outside a fearful storm is howling.
The dog sits in front of me, and looks me straight in the face.
And I, too, look into his face.
He wants, it seems, to tell me something. He is dumb, he is without words, he does not understand himself —but I understand him.
I understand that at this instant there is living in him and in me the same feeling, that there is no difference between us. We are the same; in each of us there burns and shines the same trembling spark.
Death sweeps down, with a wave of its chill broad wing….
And the end!
Who then can discern what was the spark that glowed in each of us?
No! We are not beast and man that glance at one another….
They are the eyes of equals, those eyes riveted on one another.
And in each of these, in the beast and in the man, the same life huddles up in fear close to the other.
MY ADVERSARY
I had a comrade who was my adversary; not in pursuits, nor in service, nor in love, but our views were never alike on any subject, and whenever we met, endless argument arose between us.
We argued about everything: about art, and religion, and science, about life on earth and beyond the grave, especially about life beyond the grave.
He was a person of faith and enthusiasm. One day he said to me, 'You laugh at everything; but if I die before you, I will come to you from the other world…. We shall see whether you will laugh then.'
And he did, in fact, die before me, while he was still young; but the years went by, and I had forgotten his promise, his threat.
One night I was lying in bed, and could not, and, indeed, would not sleep.
In the room it was neither dark nor light. I fell to staring into the grey twilight.
And all at once, I fancied that between the two windows my adversary was standing, and was slowly and mournfully nodding his head up and down.
I was not frightened; I was not even surprised … but raising myself a little, and propping myself on my elbow, I stared still more intently at the unexpected apparition.
The latter continued to nod his head.
'Well?' I said at last; 'are you triumphant or regretful? What is this—warning or reproach?… Or do you mean to give me to understand that you were wrong, that we were both wrong? What are you experiencing? The torments of hell? Or the bliss of paradise? Utter one word at least!'
But my opponent did not utter a single sound, and only, as before, mournfully and submissively nodded his head up and down.
I laughed … he vanished.
THE BEGGAR
I was walking along the street … I was stopped by a decrepit old beggar.
Bloodshot, tearful eyes, blue lips, coarse rags, festering wounds…. Oh, how hideously poverty had eaten into this miserable creature!
He held out to me a red, swollen, filthy hand. He groaned, he mumbled of help.
I began feeling in all my pockets…. No purse, no watch, not even a handkerchief…. I had taken nothing with me. And the beggar was still waiting … and his outstretched hand feebly shook and trembled.
Confused, abashed, I warmly clasped the filthy, shaking hand … 'Don't be angry, brother; I have nothing, brother.'
The beggar stared at me with his bloodshot eyes; his blue lips smiled; and he in his turn gripped my chilly fingers.
'What of it, brother?' he mumbled; 'thanks for this, too. That is a gift too, brother.'
I knew that I too had received a gift from my brother.
'THOU SHALT HEAR THE FOOL'S JUDGMENT….'—
'Thou shalt hear the fool's judgment….' You always told the truth, O great singer of ours. You spoke it this time, too.
'The fool's judgment and the laughter of the crowd' … who has not known the one and the other?
All that one can, and one ought to bear; and who has the strength, let him despise it!
But there are blows which pierce more cruelly to the very heart…. A man has done all that he could; has worked strenuously, lovingly, honestly…. And honest hearts turn from him in disgust; honest faces burn with indignation at his name. 'Be gone! Away with you!' honest young voices scream at him. 'We have no need of you, nor of your work. You pollute our dwelling-places. You know us not and understand us not…. You are our enemy!'
