“Shut up!” cried the red-headed man, glancing round the court-yard. “Not just you! And who else was there?”

“But you were all in it,” said the clown distinctly.

“You dog!”

The red-headed man punched Notch on the mouth. The artist backed away, only to receive a blow in the neck.

“Mates!…” he begged pitifully. But his mates saw that the two guards were a good distance away, and huddling in a thick crowd around their idol, knocked him down with a few blows. From afar the crowd could have been taken for a group engaged in lively conversation. Surrounded and hidden by them, Notch lay at their feet. From time to time a muffled sound was heard: they were kicking Notch in the ribs, kicking without haste, without anger, waiting until the man, writhing like a snake in the grass, should expose a particularly choice spot for a kick.

This lasted some three minutes. Suddenly the guard shouted:

“Hey, you devils! Don’t go too far!”

The prisoners did not stop the torture all at once. One by one they left Notch, and every one of them took leave of him with a kick.

When they had gone, he remained lying on the ground. He lay prone, his shoulders shook—he must have been crying—and he kept coughing and expectorating. Then, cautiously, as though afraid of falling apart, he began to raise himself from the ground. He leaned on his left hand, then bent one leg, and howling like a sick dog, he sat up.

“Don’t you pretend!” shouted the red-headed man threateningly.

Notch swayed and rose quickly to his feet.

Then, staggering, he walked to one of the walls of the prison. One hand was pressed against his chest, the other was stretched out in front of him. He reached the wall, and standing erect, he bowed his head. He was coughing.

I saw dark drops falling on the ground; I could see them distinctly against the gray background of the prison wall.

In order not to soil the public building with his blood, Notch made an obvious effort to shed it on the ground so that not a drop of it should get on the wall.

They laughed at the clown.…

The kitten was not seen any more. And Notch had no rival for the attention of the inmates of the prison.

1897.