my murderers come; they
shall not kill me by poison at least.

"When I came to my senses again--it was the evening of the day before
yesterday--I found a letter on the little table beside my bed. It was
written in French, in a handwriting that I had never seen before, and
there was no signature.

"This strange letter demanded of me that I should write to my guardian,
calmly and clearly, to say that for reasons which I did not intend
to reveal, I had taken my own life. If I did this my present place of
sojourn would be exchanged for a far more agreeable one, and I would
soon be quite free. But if I did not do it, I would actually be put to
death. A pen, ink and paper were ready there for the answer.

"'Never,' I wrote. And then despair came over me, and I may have indeed
appeared insane. The old woman came in. I entreated and implored her to
tell me why this dreadful fate should have overtaken me. She remained
quite indifferent and I sank back, almost fainting, on the bed. She laid
a moist cloth over my face, a cloth that had a peculiar odour. I soon
fell asleep. It seemed to me that there was some one else besides the
woman in the room with me. Or was she talking to herself? Next morning
the letter and my answer had disappeared. It was as I thought; there
was some one else in my room. Some one who had come on the tramway. I
found the ticket on the carpet beside my bed. I took it and put it in my
notebook!!!!!

"I believe that it is Sunday to-day. It is four days now since I have
been conscious. The first sound that I remember hearing was the blast of
a horn. It must come from a factory very near me. The old windows in my
room rattle at the sound. I hear it mornings and evenings and at noon,
on week days. I did not hear it to-day, so it must be Sunday. It was
Monday, the 18th of November, that I set out on my trip, and reached
here in the evening--(here? I do not know where I am), that is, I set
out for Vienna, and I know that I reached the Northern Railway station
there in safety.

"I was cold and felt a little faint--and then he offered me the tea--and
what happened after that? Where am I? The paper that they gave me may
have been a day or two old or more. And to-day is Sunday--is it the
first Sunday since my departure from home? I do not know. I know only
this, that I set out on the 18th of November to visit my kind old
guardian, and to have a last consultation with him before my coming of
age. And I know also