A red-haired man with broad shoulders looked at him suspiciously when he requested a piece of meat for a few kreuzers. He left the shop with a tender, sticky bundle wrapped in newspaper. By the light of a street lantern he loosened the twine and opened it. He took the flask of poison from his coat pocket and sprinkled the contents on the meat; attentively he watched how the fine, dry powder glittered on the bloody fibers.


Susanna was sitting by the oven and listening to the fire when Severin came in. She held her hand in front of her eyes as though sleeping, and looked at the door from between her fingers. Old Lazarus had gone out, and the seat behind the reading desk was empty.

Good evening, Susanna — said Severin.

Susanna raised her head in protracted and amazed terror. Her shoulders trembled, and the furrow between her eyebrows became darker and deeper as she returned the greeting. Then, in a strange tone of voice, she asked:

Where are you coming from, Severin?

Severin did not answer. He stood there irresolutely, and was suddenly filled with a feeling he recognized, but that had faded a long time before. It had sometimes come over him as a student, when he sat at home and read old English novels while the lamp hummed. Then he felt that the room where he lived was part of the story in which he was engrossed. The silhouettes of the characters whose fates occupied him flickered over the wall. And in the dim light of the room he recognized their gestures.

Doctor Konrad is dead — he said finally, and sat down in the leather armchair that stood next to the reading desk. He looked past Susanna, at the picture that hung in the corner next to her. He had never noticed it before. It was a landscape with a strange tree, like one in a dream. Beneath it two people walked in semi-darkness. A gust of air brushed his cheek; the raven flew up from behind him and sat on his knee. Severin bent over the beast. Slowly he pulled the poisoned meat from his pocket.

This is death — he said, and held it in front of the raven’s beak. The bird snapped it up and flew back to its hiding place.

Severin looked over at Susanna. Her heavy tresses had come free and fallen into her lap. Her face was strange and inscrutable, and her mouth was tightly closed. It was completely quiet and they heard the steps of people passing the shop on the pavement outside. On the picture next to the glowing oven the reflections and painted figures moved convulsively over the canvas.

Severin searched his memory. The tree in the painting looked familiar to him. He had seen it somewhere before. But he could not remember where.

I want to go — he thought, and rose.

Good evening, Susanna! — he greeted her again, and took his hat. Then for a while he listened into the corner, where the raven had snuck off with its food and now no longer stirred.

IX


The storm came during the night and went up and down the street howling. It brought heavy, misty warmth from the plain beyond the mountains, and slapped melting snow from the rooftops.