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.