“And, then, you stay in a poor place like this, instead of finding somewhere where you could make a better position.”
“Mere selfishness on my part,” said the doctor. “My wife lived here; it was here I met her—here we lived for the one short year we had together.... Yes, I daresay it may seem almost blasphemous for me to talk like that, seeing what every one knows about my life generally. But it’s true, all the same. That’s why I stay on here.”
Ørlygur sat looking straight before him. “It’s just those trifles—and that one thing you call selfishness that made me like you,” he said softly.
Both were silent. Then the doctor reached out for his glass, and emptied it. And, without appearing to address Ørlygur directly, he went on:
“Sitting here by myself, I often think how queerly fate weaves her threads. Something’s happening every moment—things happening that matter to some one or other. Only, I’m outside it all; just sit here and look on. Like the carcase of a fly that the spider Life has left hung up in a corner of the web.”
He poured out a fresh glass, and laughed.
“Sit here drinking whisky and never move. Never get any farther. I won’t say my life’s been worse than many others in the way of troubles. I may feel so at times, but it’s just weakness on my part. Here I have a comfortable room to sit in, an arm-chair, and something to drink. And there’s many that are out in the cold. Possibly I may be as lonely and unhappy as they. But at least I can live in something like material comfort. I’m not starving, for instance. Altogether, I must be a poor sort of fellow not to be more content than I am, and go steady, instead of sinking deeper and deeper into drink. Sometimes I’ve thought of committing suicide. But when I go over the pros and cons, it seems better to go on living. I don’t expect death to bring me anything better. And I suppose I’m doing a certain amount of good while I’m alive. Though, on the other hand, I do some harm. Heaven knows why—my nature, I suppose.”
He looked up suddenly.
“Getting dark,” he said.
Twilight had fallen; already it was hard to distinguish objects in the room. The two men saw each other’s faces only as pale spots in the dark. The doctor rose to light the lamp.