Strona 678 z 788

"Now I can die in peace! There still exists a man who will fondle

my darling child; for I have long been grieving, both day and

night, at the thought that after my death this my blade might

rust away! Now it will not rust! Your Excellency the General,

forgive me!-throw away those spits, those German swordlets; it is

shameful for a gentleman's son to wear that little cane! Take

instead a sabre such as befits a gentleman: now I lay at your

feet this my penknife, which is the most precious thing that I

possess in all the world. I have never had a wife, I have never

had a child: it has been both wife and child to me; from my

embrace it has never departed; from dawn till dark have I petted

it; it has slept by night at my side! And since I have grown old,

it has been hanging on the wall above my couch, like God's

commandments over the Jews! I thought to have it buried in my

grave along with my arm; but I have found an owner for it. May it

be your servant!"