But at that time I did not understand it; the death of my mother seemed to me one of the most cruel manifestations of universal injustice, and called forth a new stream of useless and sacrilegious curses.
I do not know whether I ought to tire the attention of the reader with the story of other events of a similar nature.

I shall mention but briefly that one after another my friends, who remained my friends from the time when I was happy and free, stopped visiting me.

According to their words, they believed in my innocence, and at first warmly expressed to me their sympathy.

But our lives, mine in prison and theirs at liberty, were so different that gradually under the pressure of perfectly natural causes, such as forgetfulness, official and other duties, the absence of mutual interests, they visited me ever more and more rarely, and finally ceased to see me entirely.

I cannot recall without a smile that even the death of my mother, even the betrayal of the girl I loved did not arouse in me such a hopelessly bitter feeling as these gentlemen, whose names I remember but vaguely now, succeeded in wresting from my soul.
"What horror! What pain! My friends, you have left me alone! My friends, do you understand what you have done?
You have left me alone.