...
He stands and thinks over this a while, becomes manifestly very dubious as
to how far I am an honest man or not. At last he says:
"Oughtn't you rather to have brought it back again?"
"Now, listen here," I reply; "I didn't want to get you into trouble in any
way; but that is the thanks one gets for being generous. Here I stand and
explain the whole thing to you, and you simply, instead of being ashamed
as a dog, make no effort to settle the dispute with me. Therefore I wash
my hands of you, and as for the rest, I say, 'The devil take you!'
Good-day."
I left, slamming the door behind me. But when I got home to my room, into
the melancholy hole, wet through from the soft snow, trembling in my knees
from the day's wanderings, I dismounted instantly from my high horse, and
sank together once more.
I regretted my attack upon the poor shop-boy, wept, clutched myself by the
throat to punish myself for my miserable trick, and behaved like a
lunatic. He had naturally been in the most deadly terror for the sake of
his situation; he had not dared to make any fuss about the five shillings
that were lost to the business, and I had taken advantage of his fear, had
tortured him with my violent address, stabbed him with every loud word
that I had roared out. And the master himself had perhaps been sitting
inside the inner room, almost within an ace of feeling called upon to come
out and inquire what was the row.
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