His voice rose to a kind of muffled shriek.
"Murderer you call me--ha! ha! that is good.

No, no! She murdered me! I tell you I died when I saw her asleep in her lover's arms--she killed me at one blow.

A devil rose up in my body and took swift revenge; that devil is in me now, a brave devil, a strong devil! That is why I do not fear the plague; the devil in me frightens away death.

Some day it will leave me"-- here his smothered yell sunk gradually to a feeble, weary tone; "yes, it will leave me and I shall find a dark place where I can sleep; I do not sleep much now." He eyed me half wistfully.
"You see," he explained, almost gently, "my memory is very good, and when one thinks of many things one cannot sleep.

It is many years ago, but every night I see HER; she comes to me wringing her little white hands, her blue eyes stare, I hear short moans of terror.