Kli-r-r! Kli-rr-rr—
This time the noise was louder.
“I can’t stand that!” roared the superintendent.
“I can’t stand that sound any longer. Last night I never closed an eye because of it.”
The helper began to laugh.
“Why do you laugh?”
“Why do I laugh? A boiled hen would laugh if you should say to it that the wolf is afraid of the sheep. What’s the use of your anger and discomfort? Silence him.”
“Silence him! Easy enough to say.”
“Tell him to go to sleep.”
“But what if he doesn’t sleep?”
“Make him sleep! There’s a way, isn’t there?” pointing to the rows of knouts along the wall. The light of cruel impulses shone in his little eyes.
Kli-r-r! Kli-rr-rr—Again the shuddering rattle of rusty iron. The superintendent began to meditate. He bit his lips angrily and left the room. He turned toward the cell from which the sound came, opened the circular window and roared.
“You dog of a giaour, stop rattling those chains! Keep still!”
“I’m not doing anything,” came a voice from within.
“Why do you make such a noise all the time?”
“Why? The chains—they knock against each other.”
“Then why do you move?”
“What shall I do?”
