"Going to a woman!" he croaked "Ha, ha! You are not the first, nor will you be the last, that has gone so! Going to a woman! that is well--that is good! Go to her, go! You are strong, you have a brave arm! Go to her, find her out, and--KILL HER! Yes, yes--you will be able to do it easily--quite easily! Go and kill her.'"
He stood at his low door mouthing and pointing, his stunted figure and evil face reminding me of one of Heinrich Heine's dwarf devils who are depicted as piling fire on the heads of the saints. I bade him "Good day" in an indifferent tone, but he made me no answer I walked slowly away. Looking back once I saw him still standing on the threshold of his wretched dwelling, his wicked mouth working itself into all manner of grimaces, while with his crooked fingers he made signs in the air as if he caught an invisible something and throttled it. I went on down the street and out of it into the broader thoroughfares, with his last words ringing in my ears, "go and kill her!"