“I wakenet op in ze evening, ant gang furser.  At once one large German carriage, wis two raven-black horse, came alongside me.  In ze carriage sit one well-tresset man, smoking pipe, ant look at me.  I go slowly, so zat ze carriage shall have time to pass me, pot I go slowly, ant ze carriage go slowly, ant ze man look at me.  I go quick, ant ze carriage go quick, ant ze man stop its two horses, ant look at me.  ‘Young man,’ says he, ‘where go you so late?’ I says, ‘I go to Frankfort.’  ’Sit in ze carriage—­zere is room enough, ant I will trag you,’ he says.  ’Bot why have you nosing about you?  Your boots is dirty, ant your beart not shaven.’  I seated wis him, ant says, ’Ich bin one poor man, ant I would like to pusy myself wis somesing in a manufactory.  My tressing is dirty because I fell in ze mud on ze roat.’

“‘You tell me ontruse, young man,’ says he.  ‘Ze roat is kvite dry now.’  I was silent.  ‘Tell me ze whole truse,’ goes on ze goot man—­’who you are, ant vere you go to?  I like your face, ant ven you is one honest man, so I will help you.’  Ant I tell all.

“‘Goot, young man!’ he says.  ’Come to my manufactory of rope, ant I will give you work ant tress ant money, ant you can live wis os.’  I says, ‘Goot!’

“I go to ze manufactory of rope, ant ze goot man says to his voman, ’Here is one yong man who defented his Vaterland, ant ron away from prisons.  He has not house nor tresses nor preat.  He will live wis os.  Give him clean linen, ant norish him.’

“I livet one ant a half year in ze manufactory of rope, ant my lantlort loaft me so much zat he would not let me loose.  Ant I felt very goot.

“I were zen handsome man—­yong, of pig stature, with blue eyes and romische nose—­ant Missis L—­ (I like not to say her name—­she was ze voman of my lantlort) was yong ant handsome laty.  Ant she fell in loaf wis me.”

Here Karl Ivanitch made a long pause, lowered his kindly blue eyes, shook his head quietly, and smiled as people always do under the influence of a pleasing recollection.

“Yes,” he resumed as he leant back in his arm-chair and adjusted his dressing-gown, “I have experiencet many sings in my life, pot zere is my witness,”—­here he pointed to an image of the Saviour, embroidered on wool, which was hanging over his bed—­“zat nopoty in ze worlt can say zat Karl Ivanitch has been one dishonest man, I would not repay black ingratitude for ze goot which Mister L—­ dit me, ant I resoluted to ron away.  So in ze evening, ven all were asleep, I writet one letter to my lantlort, ant laid it on ze table in his room.  Zen I taket my tresses, tree Thaler of money, ant go mysteriously into ze street.  Nopoty have seen me, ant I go on ze roat.”

X. CONCLUSION OF KARL’S NARRATIVE