t 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

"I had not seen my Mamma for nine year, ant I know not whether she lived
or whether her bones had long since lain in ze dark grave. Ven I come to
my own country and go to ze town I ask, 'Where live Kustaf Mayer who was
farmer to ze Count von Zomerblat?' ant zey answer me, 'Graf Zomerblat
is deat, ant Kustaf Mayer live now in ze pig street, ant keep a
public-house.' So I tress in my new waistcoat and one noble coat which
ze manufacturist presented me, arranged my hairs nice, ant go to ze
public-house of my Papa. Sister Mariechen vas sitting on a pench, and
she ask me what I want. I says, 'Might I trink one glass of pranty?'
ant she says, 'Vater, here is a yong man who wish to trink one glass of
pranty.' Ant Papa says, 'Give him ze glass.' I set to ze table, trink my
glass of pranty, smoke my pipe, ant look at Papa, Mariechen, ant Johann
(who also come into ze shop). In ze conversation Papa says, 'You know,
perhaps, yong man, where stants our army?' and I say, 'I myself am come
from ze army, ant it stants now at Wien.' 'Our son,' says Papa, 'is a
Soldat, ant now is it nine years since he wrote never one wort, and we
know not whether he is alive or dead. My voman cry continually for him.'
I still fumigate t