“Don’t you dare!  Don’t you dare get up, you Devil.”

But I did not think of rising to my feet.  I simply sat down on the bed, and, thus seated, with an involuntary smile at the passionate outburst of the youth, I shook my head good naturedly and laughed.

“Oh, young man, young man!  You yourself have drawn me into this theological conversation.”

But he stared at me stubbornly, wide eyed, and kept repeating: 

“Sit there, sit there!  I did not say this.  No, no!”

“You said it, you, young man—­you.  Do you remember Spain, the picture gallery!  You said it and now you deny it, mocking my clumsy old age.  Oh!”

K. suddenly lowered his hands and admitted in a low voice: 

“Yes.  I said it.  But you, old man—­”

I do not remember what he said after that—­it is so hard to recall all the childish chatter of this kind, but unfortunately too light-minded young man.  I remember only that we parted as friends, and he pressed my hand warmly, expressing to me his sincere gratitude, even calling me, so far as I can remember, his “saviour.”

By the way, I succeeded in convincing the Warden that the portrait of even such a man as I, after all a prisoner, was out of place in such a solemn official room as the office of our prison.  And now the portrait hangs on the wall of my cell, pleasantly breaking the cold monotony of the pure white walls.

Leaving for a time our artist, who is now carried away by the portrait of the Warden, I shall continue my story.

CHAPTER VII

My spiritual clearness, as I had the pleasure of informing the reader before, has built up for me a considerable circle of men and women admirers.  With self-evident emotion I shall tell of the pleasant hours of our hearty conversations, which I modestly call “My talks.”

It is difficult for me to explain how I deserved it, but the majority of those who come to me regard me with a feeling of the profoundest respect, even adoration, and only a few come for the purpose of arguing with me, but these arguments are usually of a moderate and proper character.  I usually seat myself in the middle of the room, in a soft and deep armchair, which is furnished me for this occasion by the Warden; my hearers surround me closely, and some of them, the more enthusiastic youths and maidens, seat themselves at my feet.

Having before me an audience more than half of which is composed of women, and entirely disposed in my favour, I always appeal not so much to the mind as to the sensitive and truthful heart.  Fortunately I possess a certain oratorical power, and the customary effects of the oratorical art, to which all preachers, beginning in all probability with Mohammed, have resorted, and which I can handle rather cleverly, allow me to influence my hearers in the desired direction.  It is easily understood that to the dear ladies in