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So far I managed to disappear. I hid on roofs of houses and in cesspools, under boards of port moorings and in crowns. The damned guards knew all places where illegal immigrants can be concealed, and checked there especially carefully, using volunteer assistants from local beggars. Paid ragamuffins for everyone caught and they tried on conscience. Still I was more cunning, but whether good luck will long last?

Money was urgently necessary, but how to get them?

Never thought that with a profession of the calligrapher it is possible to appear without work. Also brought me hard on the island where every second is able to write!

The bearded fat man who, taking the rap, pressed two shabby volumes to a breast overtook me. The stranger was obviously not from the poor, and I became constant visitor, looking to him in eyes:

– I rewrite books, I restore the damaged text, I make tables of contents eighteen various fonts.

Tolstobryukhy twisted a nose as if from me insufferably stank, and asked:

– And in how many languages you can write?