Pathway to Japanese Literature

A single road that had cut through the city was about to enter the red-light district where a railway crossed at its throat. It was a dangerous place. The defendant was the guard of that railroad crossing. He had struggled with a drunken man late last night when blocking the road with a chain. The drunken man pressed the chain that the guard was holding back against his abdomen and forced his way forward relentlessly. Just at that moment, a downbound freight train passed through the railroad crossing. The drunken man was thrown and run over to death.

Therefore, given that a crossing guard exists precisely to prevent such deaths by being run over beforehand, the examining magistrate had to harbor sufficient doubt about the psychological state of the guard who had been involved in that struggle - if only to ascertain whether the drunken man's death constituted murder or mere accident. Moreover, he discovered various materials that made him question that suspicion with even greater certainty. Firstly, the crossing guard was a poor single man. Secondly, the victim was a libertine from a wealthy family. Thirdly, the railroad crossing where the guard was stationed served as the entrance to the red-light district. However, delivering a clear verdict regarding this defendant was no easy matter, precisely because the case itself was psychological. First and foremost, even the fact that there were no eyewitnesses to the actual circumstances of the incident made it clear to the judge that conventional interrogation methods would prove utterly futile in this case.

“You said you’re forty-one.” “What if you took a wife?” “I wonder if you’re struggling to get by.” “No, I’m not particularly struggling.” “So you mean there’s no desirable one available?” “There’s no one who would come to me.” “Hmm, then you should just keep searching until someone comes along.” “I’ve already had three wives as it is.”

“Three times?” said the judge with a short laugh. “And how did that happen?”

“They all died.” “Hmm, they died? And that’s why you say there’s no one coming?” “No, I believe it’s because all three died of the same disease.” “All three had the same illness, I see. And what kind of illness was that?”

When he asked this, the judge perceived a strange smile tinged with terror emerging from the depths of the defendant’s sunken eye sockets. While thinking this must indicate severe neurasthenia, he briefly considered whether the fourth character in the gynecological disease called "membrane" that the defendant had mentioned was 「月」 or 「氵」, then immediately moved his questioning forward. “So then, that night—you hadn’t drunk any alcohol at all?”

“I didn’t drink.” “You usually drink, don’t you?” “I don’t really drink that much.”

“You’ve been the guard at that railroad crossing from the very beginning, haven’t you?” “Yes.” “They say you’ve never made a single mistake—is that true?” “When my wife was alive, she would sometimes make them.” “I never made any myself.” “How many years have you been working at the railroad crossing?” “Nineteen years.” “Nineteen years, hmm.” The judge thought this was quite a timid man.

“If it’s nineteen years, how old were you when you started? Twenty?” “From when I was twenty-five.” “At first, I made minor mistakes here and there.” “Even so, even when I thought it was a mistake, it managed to go unnoticed by others.”

The judge couldn’t quite understand why the defendant would bring up such things on his own. “When you speak of ‘my mistakes,’ what exactly do you mean?”

"When the time comes for a train to arrive, I can tell even without looking at the signal or being some distance away, but when I'm lost in thought, I don't notice until it's right beside me." "When that happens, I think this is a failure and frantically pull on the chain, but it's always after about half has already passed through." "So you're saying thinking is forbidden?" "Yes, I mustn't think." "When you say 'thoughts,' what sort of thoughts do you mean? What kind are they?"

“I think about my wife.” “You said you had no wife—ah, right, you mean the three wives? So which one do you feel most drawn to?”

“The first wife.” “Was she kind?” “No.” “You were the one who loved her.” “It’s not that I mean it that way, but for some reason, the first one often comes to mind.” “The first one... Hmm. Seems you had a good time back then.” “Were you happy?” “When I think about it now, I suppose so.” “Is there nothing you enjoy anymore?”

“There isn’t.” “Nothing at all?”

“Yes.” “So then, your job must be unpleasant too.” “Yes.” “You dislike it? The job?”

“Yes, I do not particularly like it.” “Hmm. So you’re aware—aren’t you—that even if someone gets run over at your railroad crossing outside your working hours, you bear no responsibility?” “Yes, I am well aware of that.” “It’s a fact that the man run over on the night of the third was heavily intoxicated, correct?” “Yes.” “Now then, describe the situation at that time in as much detail as possible.” “Don’t tell any lies.”

“Yes, that is correct. “Well, since there was some time before the twelve-twenty freight train was due to arrive, I went to check on the Moso bamboo I’d planted at dusk.”

“Ah, hold on—how long has it been since you began living alone?”

"Four years." "Four years, hmm. Do you like plants?" "Yes, I like them very much indeed." "Alright, alright. Then what happened?"

“Then I thought I wanted to do something, but since there was nothing to do, I finished pulling the chain.” “Just then, a drunken man came down the slope and said, ‘Let me through!’” “Was there any sound from the freight train at that time?”

“Yes, it had already begun.” “You should have just let him through, shouldn’t you?” “Yes, I’ve made it a rule that even when there’s enough time after pulling the chain once for someone to pass through, I do not let them through.” “At that time too, I still did not let him through.” “Then that man said, ‘Then I’ll go through,’ and tried to press his stomach against the middle of the chain I was pulling.” “I was pulling with all my might, but before long I found myself being dragged two or three steps along with it.” “At that moment, I thought, ‘It’s coming.’” “Your Honor must know the sound of freight trains—their noise differs strangely from ordinary passenger cars.” “That train’s sound was equally intense whether still distant or right beside me.” “Moreover, that night being pitch-dark and the freight train itself jet-black, I couldn’t clearly tell how close it had gotten.” “That’s precisely why freight trains are most terrifying.” “I was pulling the chain desperately then, but that man had already come quite near the tracks.” “Admittedly, had I gone close to push him away or pull him back, I believe he could have been saved. But by then I was utterly terrified—and hearing that freight train’s noise up close makes one completely overcome by a strange sensation.” “What can I say—I simply ended up dazed.” “It felt like being sucked into wind—my breath caught tight and dizziness struck.” “Even so, I believe I pulled the chain with considerable force—but then came a sudden gust, and I remember my hand gripping the chain being in terrible pain.” “When that happened, that man suddenly darted right before my eyes.”

The judge thought the defendant’s manner of speaking was too polished. “Wait a moment—was there anyone who saw it then?” he started to ask, but fearing this would reveal his own thoughts, he

“Was there anyone nearby?” he asked. “No, there was no one.”

The defendant answered immediately. In this case，the fact that he had been able to answer so promptly and clearly suggested that he had been conscious there being no witnesses during the incident，thereby further strengthening the judge’s suspicions. “Hmm．There wasn’t，you say? However，there is someone who claims to have seen it．What that person says and what you say seem to differ somewhat．You’re not lying，are you?”the judge lied． “They couldn’t have known that．” “After all，it was dark，so I probably couldn’t see clearly．” “Which side were they on?”the defendant asked with a slightly flustered look．

His flustered state informed the judge that his testimony interwove impure sentiments with fabrications. “When that drunken man tried to drag through the chain, why didn’t you stop him with your hands?” “I thought the chain would suffice.” “Did you say anything to restrain that man?” “No—since I thought he was drunk, I didn’t engage.” “Hmm, I see. However, if you noticed he was drunk, isn’t it improper to still try stopping him with the chain?”

“No, that’s not correct. “The chain is easier to use. Ordinary people would surely think that way, but anyone in this profession would think to use the chain. Moreover, if I were to stop him with my hands—with a man like that—it would only end up in a fight.” “That’s right. “It would likely turn into a fight. And tell me—did you know who that man was from the start?” “I did recognize him.”

“Didn’t that man say anything to you at first? When you stopped him with the chain—didn’t he say something?” “Let me see… he did say something. He was saying something like that. ‘What the hell are you doing? Don’t mess around!’—he said something like that.” “Is that all?” “No, he did say something else. I remained silent.” “What did that man say?” “‘Do you think you can stop me? I’m gonna get through!’—he said something like that.”

“Hmm. So, is that all? Didn’t he say anything else?”

“I no longer remember.” “Somehow he kept rambling about entirely unrelated matters, but I couldn’t understand what any of it meant.” “You’re known for habitually stopping pedestrians too early—what do you mean by that?” “I believe stopping them earlier would be safer and preferable.” “Is that truly all there is to it?” “Yes, that’s all.” “Have you never once found pleasure in stopping people?”

“That’s correct. When you put it that way, I suppose I did sometimes feel that way.” “Why did you come to think it was enjoyable?” “I don’t know.” “Don’t you know when you began to find such enjoyment?” “It seems like from the beginning.” “So you had always thought it was enjoyable, hadn’t you?” “That’s not the case at all.” “You’ve been said to often clash with pedestrians when blocking the road in recent years—do you recall that?”

“Yes.” “Do you clash with them?” “Yes, such things often occur when I stop them somewhat early.” “It’s said this has grown significantly worse in recent years—that’s factual, I presume?” “That is correct. It also seems to have worsened somewhat.”

“Wouldn’t you say you began to take pleasure in it only after becoming a bachelor?” "No, well, that’s not it at all." “Hmm. But is stopping people at the crossing truly that pleasurable?” “For some reason, I feel as though this crossing is my domain.” "I see. Your occupation is merely a job that drains your mind without real-world results, so it couldn’t possibly be enjoyable." "Yes."

“Don’t you get tired?” “I get tired.” “I suppose so. Nineteen years—you’ve lasted well.” “Have you ever been ill?” “I have sometimes been ill.” “Hmm. Do you ever go to the brothel district?” “I do not go.” “Don’t you want to go?” “There are times I want to go.” “Then why don’t you go?” “Even if I went, it would be dreary.” “Why?” “It’s just not worth it—it’s too absurd.”

“Is it because you don’t have money?” “I have the money,” the defendant said, then after a moment added quietly, his head lowered, “It’s... troubling.” “Hmm. So your reputation has reached even the brothel district.” The defendant remained silent. “When did you stop going?”

“I haven’t been there for over a year now.” “I see. And how was that last time? In other words—what exactly happened to you there? Did something happen that made you find it dreary?” “When I go, they make unpleasant faces.” “Hmm... Unpleasant faces—do they say anything?” “Yes.”

“What did they say?” “They say, ‘Here comes the ghost!’” “Hmm. Do you understand what that means? Though it’s most likely related to you... I see—a ghost, then.” “I think it must be about my wives.”

“Hmm, I see. That does sound troublesome. “Why not visit brothels farther away? “Or perhaps there exists some place requiring no such visits?” “No, there isn’t.” “None at all? That must prove inconvenient. “Do you sleep well at night?” “I cannot sleep.”

“That must be why.” “Do you dream?” “Yes, I often dream.” “What kind of dreams do you have most often?”

“I often dream of teeth falling out. And I also sometimes dream of ripe persimmons splattering as they fall.”

“Ha ha, what kind of dream did you have the night before the drunken man came through?” “I don’t remember that well.”

“Hmm—you don’t remember?” “When you saw that drunken man… what did you think? You took him for a playboy—didn’t you?” “Yes… I figured he’d head out carousing before long.”

“Was that man wealthy?” “Yes.”

“What feelings arise when you see a dandy?” “Since I’m accustomed to it, no particular feeling arises.”

“Your duty hours were twelve at night, weren’t they?” “Yes.”

“Given that, how do you explain standing guard even outside your duty hours?” “It’s become a habit. When I can’t sleep, I always make it a rule to stand guard. That way suits me better.” “When you say ‘suits me better’...” “That way—well, I mean—it just feels easier for me.” “So it’s not out of concern for others, then.” “Yes.” “That street is on a slope, and since your railroad crossing has heavy foot traffic, wouldn’t it be better to keep watch late into the night?”

“I cannot afford to think about such things. Since I cannot fall asleep right away, it becomes unbearably painful unless I’m keeping watch or something.”

“Have you ever considered what pedestrians and neighbors might say about you pulling the chains too early and keeping watch late into the night?” “Yes, I imagine it hasn’t been spoken of favorably.” “So rather than trying to avoid others thinking ill of you, you’d prefer to do what interests you?” “Well, if you phrase it that way—I suppose so. But I’ve resolved not to mind what people say anymore.” “If I worried about such things, it’d be ridiculous—I couldn’t keep doing this job.”

The defendant paused for a moment, “I don’t care what becomes of me now,” he said, looking up at the judge. He’s taken the initiative, the judge thought. Now that matters had reached this point, he knew he must begin disorienting the defendant’s mind slightly. Moreover, the more earnest that face—the one which had preempted him—appeared, the more brazenly audacious it struck him. Yet conversely, he judged that very audacity—while entangling their psychological interplay further—would inevitably forge a crevice through which to infiltrate the core of his suspicions.

“Do people in society seem like they’re on your side?”

"I have never thought about such things." "When you blocked the road, didn't you ever feel that people seemed like enemies?" "No, I never did." "No—not just you, but all railroad crossing guards must inevitably feel this way psychologically—that is, when considered academically. Yet you still claim you didn't?"

“What do you mean? There was some.”

“That night, when you tried to stop the drunken man, you knew there was no one around to see it, didn’t you?”

“No, I was not aware of such a thing.” “Didn’t you answer earlier that you knew?” “No. “I would never say such a thing! “I would never state such a thing.”

“Then why are you so adamant about claiming you didn’t know?” The defendant let slip a smile, then bit the lower lip and looked down. “Do you believe everything you did that night was entirely justified?”

“Yes.” “Then whether you claim ignorance or admit knowledge, there should be no contradiction for you.” “Yes, that is indeed the case.” “That night, when you tried to stop the drunken man, didn’t you regard him as an enemy?”

“No, I never had such feelings arise.”

“Have you ever seen any books related to socialism before?” “No.”

“Do you recall ever hearing from anyone about what’s written in such books?” “Yes—I haven’t.”

“When the employees pressured the Railway Bureau for reduced working hours, weren’t you a signatory to that?” “Yes.” “Then why did you co-sign such a socialist petition?” “It was unavoidable.” “I didn’t know whether doing such a thing was what socialism does.” “I simply joined because I was told to enter.” “How do you always think of rich people?”

“I don’t think anything particular of them.”

“Don’t you want to become rich?” “If Your Honor says I should become one, then I will become one.” “Who urged you to co-sign? There must have been someone.”

“There was no one. When the paper was passed around and I looked, my name was properly written on it. It stated that those in favor should put their seal above their name, so I simply stamped mine.”

“Who brought that paper?” “That would be the man named Hattori Kanji whose name was written before mine.”

“What was that man’s occupation?” “He was the same crossing guard. However, that man was Class B.” “When you say ‘Class B’…”

"He only stands guard during the daytime." “Are you what they call Class A?” “Yes.”

From this rather lengthy interrogation, the judge realized he had merely made the defendant aware of his central suspicion—whether the defendant had run over the libertine out of sexual jealousy or class-based resentment—and that all he had gained was a slight reinforcement of his own doubts. With this realization, his desire to extract a confession from the defendant as quickly as possible grew urgent. He realized that unless he first and foremost stirred up turmoil in the defendant’s mind, it would all be in vain.

“You say you block the road early because people seemed like enemies to you, don’t you?” “No, that is not so.” “That you came to think of that road as your own must have begun after you became a single man.”

“No, that is not the case.” “That was already from when I began my duties.” “You must not lie.” “Yes, I have thought that way from the very beginning.” “When you see those who frequent the red-light district late at night, you regard them as enemies, don’t you?”

“Your Honor’s jokes trouble me.” “I would never entertain such thoughts.” “Why does it trouble you?” “You mustn’t say such things.” “Does that put you in an awkward position?” “It’s not that it’s inconvenient, but I have never entertained such thoughts.”

“Were you only saying ‘yes yes’ when it suited your convenience?”

The defendant moved his mouth as if to say something but remained silent. Only his nostrils kept twitching involuntarily. Then his face began taking on a bluish tinge save around the eye rims. "When you saw that drunken man as wealthy, you must have viewed him as an enemy."

“Yes.” “On the night of the incident, you must have timed the train’s arrival and pushed that drunken man.” “Yes.”

The defendant continued looking out the window with an air of defiance.

“That’s how it must have been.”

The defendant remained silent. "How about it?" "Just do whatever you want with me!" the defendant declared forcefully. As the judge looked at the defendant's angry face, he reasoned that if the man's actions on the night of the incident had truly matched his suspicions, such direct fury now would be implausible—a realization that made some of his lingering doubts melt away slightly. Yet one couldn't deny that even this anger seemed provoked by his own obstinate line of questioning. On reflection, the defendant's rage no longer resembled the profound resentment of someone falsely accused of forgotten deeds, and ultimately, the judge felt his original suspicions hardening around the man anew. Still, to continue this interrogation any further, he first needed to clear away the defendant's hostility. The judge persisted with gentle inquiries, a serene smile fixed upon his face.

“You knew the victim had a wife, didn’t you?” The defendant still did not answer, continuing to look out the window. “He must have had children too—do you know about that as well?”

The defendant still remained silent. “Do you truly not know anything at all?” “What’s the matter?” “I know,” the defendant declared in a voice thick with hostility.

“I see, you knew.” “Don’t you think that if you hadn’t stopped that drunken man then and simply let him through, he wouldn’t have died?” The defendant remained silent. “If you had always maintained a kind heart toward pedestrians, I believe even then you would have refrained from intentionally using the chain’s authority to stop him and let him pass.” “Of course, the dead man was also in the wrong.” “But even you didn’t do anything good at all.” “However justified you may be, weren’t you placed at that crossing as a guard to prevent such deaths by being run over?” “Moreover, if you hadn’t been by that man’s side, that would be one thing—but no, you were actually right there beside him.” “Not only that—had you not been there at that moment, that man might have been saved instead.” “And it was precisely because you were there that that man died.” “Have you ever considered how that man’s wife thinks of you?”

The defendant’s eyes, which had turned toward the judge, suddenly began to gleam. “You must have been happy when you had a wife.”

“Yes,” the defendant said quietly.

“Don’t you think you killed an upstanding man who had a wife and child? You have nothing joyful, as I said—and indeed I understand that well enough. But that man still had much to live for. The world held interest for him. That’s what you’d think.”

The defendant remained silent, looking down. “If that man died, how troubled do you think his wife and children would be.” “You’re fine.” “You may have to live alone in loneliness—that can’t be helped.” “But the wife and children left behind by that man—they needn’t have lived in loneliness at all, yet they must spend their entire lives in solitude.” “Even if you believe your actions were justified, the dead man’s wife and children will surely resent you forever.” “They must surely believe that he was indeed killed by you.” “No matter how much you insist it was justified, they won’t think so.” “After all, it was you who killed him—no one else.”

The judge watched as the defendant’s head drooped lower. “This is it,” the judge thought. He felt elated with victory. He had wanted to say, “You must have shoved that man.” But at that moment, the defendant suddenly raised his head and glared at the judge with an angry expression. Then, as if struck by sudden stomach pain, his face contorted and tears began streaming down his cheeks. “I killed. “Yes, I killed.”

In a voice that seemed to catch on something, the defendant said those words. The judge felt an inexplicable excitement rising within him. "Do you still want to be a crossing guard?" the judge asked, posing a question entirely devoid of sincerity. The defendant lowered himself onto the chair and, keeping his head bowed, did not answer.

When the judge considered how easily he had lured in the defendant, he suddenly felt his triumphant mood begin to fade. That was not all. He had even lost, as before, the evidence of suspicion he thought he had finally grasped. The reason was that he found his own methods so clever—even to himself—that he wanted to applaud them. Indeed, even if one were to say that no such person existed, consider this: even the judge himself—who could ascertain that this was clearly not intentional murder—were he placed in the defendant’s position, would there have been anyone who wouldn’t have been led into the same sorrow-driven words and actions as the defendant by the judge’s skillful words? When he thought of this, the judge’s suspicions—hindered rather by his own eloquence—plunged once more into a labyrinthine fog. However, even so, he still could not cast aside his suspicions. Therefore, he realized that in order to hear the most credible confession from the defendant, he would have to reverse the sorrow he had once cast upon him.

“You said before that you saw that drunken man, didn’t you?”

The defendant did not answer. “Did you know him well?”

The defendant said “Yes” as if swallowing something. “Was that man always in a drunken stupor?” “Yes.” “When you had a wife, did you ever visit the red-light district?” “No,” the defendant said in a nasal voice, then looked at the judge with reddened eyes. “Hmm—did you know that drunken man’s wife was troubled?” “That wife was troubled.” “Every single night—they say she was troubled because her husband went out carousing and left the house empty.” “Didn’t you know anything about how that man and his wife were always fighting?”

“Yes,” said the defendant, wiping his nose, but immediately bowed his head again. “They say he was being pressed by his wife for a divorce.” “To speak plainly, such libertines aren’t any real loss when they die. But as this magistrate, I merely made you grieve for the sake of due process.” “There’s no need to grieve so much.” “You probably didn’t realize the train was approaching, did you.” The defendant remained silent. “You were trying to stop that man from leaving until the very end, weren’t you.”

Still, the defendant did not answer. He let out a deep sigh and grimaced.

“Isn’t that the crucial point?” “How about it?” “That must be it.”

“Yes.”

When the defendant answered quietly like that, tears once again streamed down his cheeks. To the judge, who had observed how the defendant’s attitude shifted under his own words, the defendant’s demeanor still appeared utterly sorrowful. Yet he could not clearly discern whether this sorrow was lingering anguish he had induced or remorse stemming from some concealed act of the defendant’s own. And when the judge could no longer devise any method to substantiate his suspicions, he had no choice but to bring that day’s interrogation to a close.

That night, when the judge crawled into bed, he once again turned over the day’s interrogation in his mind. ――Was it in fact that the defendant had pushed the drunken man, or was the death truly accidental as claimed?――Yet why had the defendant remained so acutely sensitive to words threatening his position? And why had he made such an transparently preemptive move? As he considered how the defendant had skillfully alternated between these contradictory attitudes during questioning, the judge felt his suspicions deepening anew. Yet given this was a contest where one sought to withstand breaking while the other aimed to break, once recognizing this dynamic, the defendant’s single-minded focus on self-preservation could hardly be deemed unjust. Ultimately, the judge found himself adrift in the same doubts that had plagued him by daylight. But since a verdict must eventually be rendered, he couldn’t leave matters unresolved. This tormented him. Having come this far, he realized the most judicious path lay not in examining the defendant further, but in turning his inquiry inward upon his own psyche. Why had he first conceived these suspicions as suspicions? Why had he labored to deepen them as such? Why had he become convinced they must be justified? As he followed this thread, he discovered how profoundly suspicious he had grown in recent years. While years of judicial habit undoubtedly contributed, this wasn’t the sole cause—equally culpable were his unshakable faith in his own discernment and the neurasthenia that exacerbated it. There remained one greater cause. It traced back to when he’d sought to study intersections between ideology and crime—particularly those ideologies swaying public sentiment—and procured socialist texts, among them a volume titled Marx’s Thought and Biography. Through this lens, he perceived humanity divided into two perpetually warring currents: the propertyless class’s collective surge to eradicate capitalists, met by the bourgeois tide striving to crush proletarian power. From that moment, the judge—possessor of a hundred-thousand-yen estate—found his emotions increasingly hostile toward all socialist thought, even as his intellect affirmed Marx’s formidable logic. This hostility trembled with acute fear whenever social movements erupted—and they erupted often. Never before had he considered how profoundly this fear might have warped interrogations and judgments that should have been impartial.

However, now the judge's reason turned in that direction. When he learned that the defendant had been involved in an incident where temporary workers pressured the Railway Bureau to reduce working hours, he realized his habitual fear of defending against social movements had naturally positioned the defendant as an adversary from the interrogation's outset. Of course, he understood his duty required directing suspicion toward the defendant, but even he could not believe his suspicions had been deepened solely for that reason. Upon realizing this, it seemed no particular mystery that the defendant—already impoverished and facing intensifying labor—would develop passion for that movement proportionate to his lack of education when others induced him to join appeals for reduced hours. Moreover, his previous deduction—that greater ignorance meant greater resentment toward the wealthy libertine—while appearing logically sound initially, now seemed reversible: precisely through that ignorance, unless directly impacted by the libertine's wealth, such resentment became implausible. Undeniably, some resentment existed between defendant and victim after their clash. Yet even so, as he recognized this differed from enemy-like hostility—likely being mere envy of a free libertine—he found himself unable to sustain suspicions of murderous intent. Then his own fear—arbitrarily casting the defendant as an ideological enemy—suddenly felt foolishly shameful. Moreover, he recalled the defendant's truly sorrowful expression when burdened with grief meant for him. This drew his feelings—divorced from judicial authority—into the defendant's loneliness. However contemplated, it remained undeniably desolate—a man fatefully stripped of life's joys yet condemned to eternally stand at pleasure's threshold warning revelers of danger was understood as among existence's cruelest forms. Yet considering how his own impure fear nearly doomed this acquittal-worthy wretch to grave punishment chilled him with awareness of his sin.

"I'll declare innocence." "Innocent." When he alone reached this decision, he suddenly felt a cathartic mood, as if turning his palm over.

"This ain't my sin! It's Marx's sin!" He suddenly burst into loud laughter.

"No need to mind anything." "What evidence exists?" "The guard before the libertine!"

Now the judge too was in an utterly clear and refreshed state of mind. And he felt that the terror which had long been tormenting him had now mysteriously flown away from himself.

After a while, he was sleeping peacefully. Exactly as if he were a sinner acquitted by Marx.