“Be calm; tell me what you know and I will let you go,” I said to him.
Kuz'ma fell at my feet, stammered and calling on God.
“May I perish if it's I.… May neither my father nor my mother.… Your Honour! May God destroy my soul.…”
“You went into the forest?”
“That's quite true, sir, I went.… I had served cognac to the guests and, forgive me, I had tippled a little; it went to my head, and I wanted to lie down; I went, lay down, and fell asleep.… But who killed her, or how I don't know, so help me God.… It's the truth I'm telling you!”
“But why did you wash off the blood?”
“I was afraid that people might imagine … that I might be taken as a witness.…”
“How did the blood come on to your poddevka?”
“I don't know, your Honour.”
“How is it possible you can't know? Isn't the poddevka yours?”