While I was gazing thus, a man went by, a butcher, bent over double, carrying an enormous side of beef on his shoulders. His arms were bare right up to his elbows, his head was bent forward…A mop of long hair hid from me his face and yet, as soon as I laid eyes on him, I gave a start…
"He's the one!" I said to myself.
All my blood flowed back on my heart…I descended to my cell, trembling to the tips of my fingernails, feeling my cheeks wobble and my face flood with a deathly pallor and I stammered in a muffled voice:
"It's him! He's there…he's there…and I'm going to die in his place to expiate his crime…Good God!…What shall I do? What shall I do?…"
I suddenly had an idea, an idea crossed my mind like manna from heaven…My hand went into my jacket pocket!…The box containing my charcoal was there.
Then, rushing towards the wall, I began to copy the murder scene with unprecedented vigour. No more uncertainty, no more trial and error. I knew the man… I could see him… He was posing for me.
At ten o'clock the jailer came into my cell. His owl-like impassiveness gave way to admiration.
"Can such things be?" he cried, standing in the doorway.
"Go and fetch my judges," I said to him, pursuing my work with mounting excitement as I did so.
"They're waiting for you in the courtroom," Schlüssel added.