Which four crowns? asked the doctor.
Thordur raised his voice: The four crowns you owe me.
It was now evident that it was difficult for him to remain standing.
I felt assured that the old rascal had been drinking like a fish. I
was surprised. I had never heard he was inclined that way. He lived
out there on the hillside a short distance above the village. I
began to wonder where he had been able to obtain so much liquor--
certainly not from us at the store.
What is your name? asked the doctor.
My name? Don't you know my name? Don't you know me?--Thordur--
Thordur of the Bend. I should best of all like to get the money at
once.
Yes, that's so--you are Thordur of the Bend, said the doctor. And
you are up? But listen, my good man, I owe you nothing. You owe me a
small sum--but that does not matter in the least.
I care nothing about that, but I should best of all like to get the
money at once, repeated Thordur.
May I feel your hand for a minute? said the doctor.
Thordur extended his hand, but it seemed to me that he did not know
it. He looked off into space, as if thinking of other things--or
rather as if he had no thoughts whatever. I saw the doctor's fingers
on his wrist.
You are a sick man, he said.
Sick?--Yes--of course I am sick. Am I then to pay you four crowns? I
haven't got them now.
It makes no difference about those four crowns, but why did you get
up like this? Have you forgotten that I ordered you to remain in bed
when I saw you the other day?
In bed?--How the devil am I to remain in bed? Tell me that!
You must not get up in this condition. Why, you are delirious!
What a fool you are--don't you know that there is a dry spell.
Yes, I AM aware of the dry spell.--It was evidently not quite clear
to him what that had to do with the case.--Have a chair, and we will
talk it over.
A chair? No!--Who, then, should dry the hay in the homefield? I had
some of it cut when I was taken down--why do you contradict me? And
the youngsters have made some attempts at it--but who is to see
about drying it?--Not Gudrun--she can't do everything. The
youngsters?--what do they know about drying hay?--Who, then, is to
do it?--Are YOU going to do it?
Something will turn up for you, said the doctor, somewhat at a loss.
Something will turn up? Nothing has ever turned up for ME.
Cold shivers passed through me. His remark rang true: I knew that
nothing had ever turned up for him. I felt faint at looking into
such an abyss of hopelessness. Instantly I saw that the truth of
this delirious statement concerned me more than all the wisdom of
the ages.
Do I get those four crowns you owe me?--Thordur asked. He was now
trembling so that his teeth chattered.
The doctor produced four crowns from his purse and handed them to
him. Thordur laid them on the table and staggered towards the door.-
-You are leaving your crowns behind, man, said the doctor.
I haven't got them now, said Thordur, without looking back and still
making his way towards the door.--But I'll pay them as soon as I
can.
Isn't there a vacant bed upstairs at the store? inquired the doctor.
Yes, I answered. We will walk with you down to the store, Thordur.
Walk with me?--Be damned!--I am off for the hay-field.
We followed him outside and watched him start out. After a short
distance he tumbled down. We got him upstairs in the store.
A few days later he could have told us, if anyone had been able to
communicate with him, whether they are right or wrong, those latest
theories on how it feels to die.
--But who dries the hay in his homefield now?