this pleased and fortified me。 If he became convinced

that　I　was　a　murderer　and　this　knowledge　struck　terror　throughout　his　soul；

then　he　wouldn’t　dare　refuse　to　show　me　the　final　painting。　I　was　so　curious

about that picture； not because of any sin I’d mitted on its account—I

genuinely　wanted　to　see　how　it’d　turned　out。

“Is　it　important　who　killed　that　miscreant？”　I　said。　“Is　it　not　possible　that

whoever　rid　us　of　him　has　done　a　good　deed？”

I　was　encouraged　when　I　saw　he　could　no　longer　look　me　directly　in　the　eye。

Magnanimous men； who think themselves better and morally superior to

others；　cannot　look　you　in　the　eye　when　they　are　embarrassed　on　your　behalf；

perhaps　because　they　are　contemplating　reporting　you　and　abandoning　you　to

a　fate　of　torture　and　execution。

Outside； just in front of the courtyard gate； the dogs began a frenzied

howling。

“It’s begun to snow again；” I said。 “Where has everyone gone at this late

hour？　Why　have　they　left　you　here　all　alone？　They　haven’t　even　lit　a　candle　for

you。”

“It’s　quite　strange；　indeed；”　he　said。　“I　don’t　understand　it　myself。”

He　was　so　sincere　that　I　believed　him　pletely；　and　despite　ridiculing　him

just　as　the　other　miniaturists　did；　I　once　again　knew　that　I　actually　loved　him

profoundly。　But　hoy　sudden　and　great　flood　of

respect a