“Pardon me, but that is a strange question. One can't expect to meet a wolf, and to expect a terrible misfortune is equally impossible. God sends them unexpectedly. For example, this dreadful occurrence.… I was walking through the Ol'khovsky wood, not expecting any grief because I have grief enough as it is, when suddenly I heard a strange shriek. The shriek was so piercing that it appeared to me as if somebody had cut into my ear.… I ran towards the cry.…”
Urbenin's mouth was drawn to one side, his chin trembled, his eyes blinked, and he began to sob.
“I ran towards the cry, and suddenly I saw … Olga lying on the ground. Her hair and forehead were bloody, her face terrible. I began to shout, to call her by her name.… She did not move.… I kissed her, I raised her up.…”
Urbenin choked and covered his face with his hands. After a minute he continued:
“I did not see the scoundrel … When I was running towards her I heard somebody's hasty footsteps. He was probably running away.”
“All this is an excellent invention, Pëtr Egorych,” I said. “But do you know magistrates have little belief in such rare occurrences as the coincidence of the murder with your accidental walk, etc. It's not badly invented, but it explains very little.”
“What do you mean by invented?” Urbenin asked, opening his eyes wide. “I have invented nothing, sir.…”
Suddenly Urbenin got very red and rose.
“It appears that you suspect me.…” he mumbled. “Of course, anybody can suspect, but you, Sergei Petrovich, have known me long.… It's a sin for you to brand me with such a suspicion.… But you know me.”
“I know you, certainly … but my private opinion is here of no avail.… The law reserves the right of private opinion for the jurymen, the examining magistrate has only to deal with evidence. There is much evidence, Pëtr Egorych.”