better say good-bye to the world. I’ve been shadowing you, and here you are. What did it matter that I was without a gun? I had only to whistle and my comrades would come; they have guns enough and to spare. Who thinks anything of a shot more or less to-day? There are hundreds of shots; no one will lay the guilt at my door. One of the foresters might easily have done it; the Archduke himself might have been graciously pleased to make a hole in your precious forehead. Who will say it was I? You made a cripple of me. You are right, it is my turn now.’ He raised the gun slowly and aimed.
Martin’s expression grew hard. An icy line appeared round his lips; his face looked tired and disappointed. Every word Novák had said had annoyed him. He was longing for purity of feeling, rebirth of soul, if need be at the cost of his life; but Novák’s talk had been low.
He had been mistaken in his antagonist.
But the poacher too, his keen eyes and his receptive faculties sharpened, when he saw that droop in the corners of the youth’s lips, realized that Martin had not counted on being spared, and was every moment getting more disgusted and sorry not to have saved his
