MR. Y. This means that you despise me?
MR. X. Oh, no!
MR. Y. Yes, you do--you cannot but do it!
MR. X. No--here's my hand.
(MR. Y. takes hold of the outstretched hand and kisses it.)
MR. X. [Drawing back his hand] Don't lick hands like a dog!
MR. Y. Pardon me, sir, but you are the first one who has let me
touch his hand after learning--
MR. X. And now you call me "sir!"--What scares me about you is
that you don't feel exonerated, washed clean, raised to the old
level, as good as anybody else, when you have suffered your
punishment. Do you care to tell me how it happened? Would you?
MR. Y. [Twisting uneasily] Yes, but you won't believe what I say.
But I'll tell you. Then you can see for yourself that I am no
ORDINARY criminal. You'll become convinced, I think, that there
are errors which, so to speak, are involuntary--[twisting again]
which seem to commit themselves--spontaneously--without being
willed by oneself, and for which one cannot be held responsible--
May I open the door a little now, since the storm seems to have
passed over?
MR. X. Suit yourself.
MR. Y. [Opens the door; then he sits down at the table and begins
to speak with exaggerated display of feeling, theatrical gestures,
and a good deal of false emphasis] Yes, I'll tell you! I was a
student in the university at Lund, and I needed to get a loan from
a bank.
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