The Scapegoat
“It was easier than standing up. The gap between us lessened, and I was someone on her level, not just an adult talking to a child. I realized she must have interpreted my action as a deliberate deed to rid myself of the watch, and then, regretting it, had burnt myself retrieving it. Self-inflicted pain had not occurred to her, yet it was something she would readily understand.
‘The watch was really an excuse,’ I said. ‘I didn’t want to shoot tomorrow. I didn’t know how to get out of it, and... then, standing by the bonfire, the idea came to me to burn my hand. It was simple, but stupid. I did it rather too effectively, and it hurt more than I intended.’ She listened calmly. She took up my bandaged hand and examined it.
‘Why didn’t you pretend to be ill?’ she asked.
‘It wouldn’t have worked. People would have realized nothing was the matter. A burnt hand is genuine.’ ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘it’s never pleasant to be found out.MoreLess
‘The watch was really an excuse,’ I said. ‘I didn’t want to shoot tomorrow. I didn’t know how to get out of it, and... then, standing by the bonfire, the idea came to me to burn my hand. It was simple, but stupid. I did it rather too effectively, and it hurt more than I intended.’ She listened calmly. She took up my bandaged hand and examined it.
‘Why didn’t you pretend to be ill?’ she asked.
‘It wouldn’t have worked. People would have realized nothing was the matter. A burnt hand is genuine.’ ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘it’s never pleasant to be found out.MoreLess
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