Mr. X. I have not committed murder.

Mr. Y. Is it not murder to kill a person?

Mr. X. Not always.  The law speaks of murder, manslaughter, killing in self-defence—­and it makes a distinction between intentional and unintentional killing.  However—­now you really frighten me, for it’s becoming plain to me that you belong to the most dangerous of all human groups—­that of the stupid.

Mr. Y. So you imagine that I am stupid?  Well, listen—­would you like me to show you how clever I am?

Mr. X. Come on!

Mr. Y. I think you’ll have to admit that there is both logic and wisdom in the argument I’m now going to give you.  You have suffered a misfortune which might have brought you two years at hard labor.  You have completely escaped the disgrace of being punished.  And here you see before you a man—­who has also suffered a misfortune—­the victim of an unconscious impulse—­and who has had to stand two years of hard labor for it.  Only by some great scientific achievement can this man wipe off the taint that has become attached to him without any fault of his own—­but in order to arrive at some such achievement, he must have money—­a lot of money—­and money this minute!  Don’t you think that the other one, the unpunished one, would bring a little better balance into these unequal human conditions if he paid a penalty in the form of a fine?  Don’t you think so?

Mr. X. [Calmly] Yes.

Mr. Y. Then we understand each other.—­Hm! [Pause] What do you think would be reasonable?

Mr. X. Reasonable?  The minimum fine in such a case is fixed by the law at fifty crowns.  But this whole question is settled by the fact that the dead man left no relatives.

Mr. Y. Apparently you don’t want to understand.  Then I’ll have to speak plainly:  it is to me you must pay that fine.

Mr. X. I have never heard that forgers have the right to collect fines imposed for manslaughter.  And, besides, there is no prosecutor.

Mr. Y. There isn’t?  Well—­how would I do?

Mr. X. Oh, now we are getting the matter cleared up!  How much do you want for becoming my accomplice?

Mr. Y. Six thousand crowns.

Mr. X. That’s too much.  And where am I to get them?

(Mr. Y. points to the box.)

Mr. X. No, I don’t want to do that.  I don’t want to become a thief.

Mr. Y. Oh, don’t put on any airs now!  Do you think I’ll believe that you haven’t helped yourself out of that box before?

Mr. X. [As if speaking to himself] Think only, that I could let myself be fooled so completely.  But that’s the way with these soft natures.  You like them, and then it’s so easy to believe that they like you.  And that’s the reason why I have always been on my guard against people I take a liking to!—­So you are firmly convinced that I have helped myself out of the box before?