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?