I might even meet my friend Guido Ferrari, and he would break the joyful news of my return from death to Nina by degrees, and also prepare her for my altered looks.

While these thoughts flitted rapidly through my brain, the old ragpicker stood near me with his head on one side like a meditative raven, and regarded me intently.
"Are you going far ?" he asked at last, with a kind of timidity.
"Yes," I answered him, abruptly; "very far." He laid a detaining hand on my sleeve, and his eyes glittered--with a malignant expression.
"Tell me," he muttered, eagerly, "tell me--I will keep the secret.

Are you going to a woman ?" I looked down upon him, half in disdain, half in amusement.
"Yes!" I said, quietly, "I am going to a woman." He broke into silent laughter--hideous laughter that contorted his visage and twisted his body in convulsive writhings.
I glanced at him in disgust, and shaking off his hand from my arm, I made my way to the door of the shop He hobbled quickly after me, wiping away the moisture that his inward merriment had brought into his eyes.
"Going to a woman!" he croaked "Ha, ha! You are not the first, nor will you be the last, that has gone so! Going to a woman! that is well--that is good! Go to her, go! You are strong, you have a brave arm! Go to her, find her out, and--KILL HER! Yes, yes--you will be able to do it easily--quite easily! Go and kill her.'" He stood at his low door mouthing and pointing, his stunted figure and evil face reminding me of one of Heinrich Heine's dwarf devils who are depicted as piling fire on the heads of the saints.

I bade him "Good day" in an indifferent tone, but he made me no answer I walked slowly away.

Looking back once I saw him still standing on the threshold of his wretched dwelling, his wicked mouth working itself into all manner of grimaces, while with his crooked fingers he made signs in the air as if he caught an invisible something and throttled it.