A Story Page #2

								

fingers trembled.

"He is ill!  That is madness--a joyless madness--besieged by fear
and dreadful dreams!"

They quickly went away and came before the beds of the
criminals; these unfortunate people slept side by side, in long
rows.  Like a ferocious animal, one of them rose out of his sleep and
uttered a horrible cry, and gave his comrade a violent dig in the ribs
with his pointed elbow, and this one turned round in his sleep:

"Be quiet, monster--sleep!  This happens every night!"

"Every night!" repeated the other.  "Yes, every night he comes
and tortures me!  In my violence I have done this and that.  I was
born with an evil mind, which has brought me hither for the second
time; but if I have done wrong I suffer punishment for it.  One
thing, however, I have not yet confessed.  When I came out a little
while ago, and passed by the yard of my former master, evil thoughts
rose within me when I remembered this and that.  I struck a match a
little bit on the wall; probably it came a little too close to the
thatched roof.  All burnt down--a great heat rose, such as sometimes
overcomes me.  I myself helped to rescue cattle and things, nothing
alive burnt, except a flight of pigeons, which flew into the fire, and
the yard dog, of which I had not thought; one could hear him howl
out of the fire, and this howling I still hear when I wish to sleep;
and when I have fallen asleep, the great rough dog comes and places
himself upon me, and howls, presses, and tortures me.  Now listen to
what I tell you!  You can snore; you are snoring the whole night, and I
hardly a quarter of an hour!"  And the blood rose to the head of the
excited criminal; he threw himself upon his comrade, and beat him with
his clenched fist in the face.

"Wicked Matz has become mad again!" they said amongst
themselves.  The other criminals seized him, wrestled with him, and
bent him double, so that his head rested between his knees, and they
tied him, so that the blood almost came out of his eyes and out of all
his pores.

"You are killing the unfortunate man," said the pastor, and as
he stretched out his hand to protect him who already suffered too
much, the scene changed.  They flew through rich halls and wretched
hovels; wantonness and envy, all the deadly sins, passed before
them.  An angel of justice read their crimes and their defence; the
latter was not a brilliant one, but it was read before God, Who
reads the heart, Who knows everything, the wickedness that comes
from within and from without, Who is mercy and love personified.  The
pastor's hand trembled; he dared not stretch it out, he did not
venture to pull a hair out of the sinner's head.  And tears gushed from
his eyes like a stream of mercy and love, the cooling waters of
which extinguished the eternal fire of hell.

Just then the cock crowed.

"Father of all mercy, grant Thou to her the peace that I was
unable to procure for her!"

"I have it now!" said the dead woman.  "It was your hard words,
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