“I believe every human being lives his own life and dies his own death, that is what I believe.”
“But that is no faith; do you believe we shall rise again from the dead?”
“How shall I rise? As the young innocent child I was when I first came out among people, or as the honored and envied favorite of the King and the ornament of the court, or as poor old hopeless Ferryman’s Marie? And shall I answer for what the others, the child and the woman in the fullness of life, have sinned, or shall one of them answer for me? Can you tell me that, Master Holberg?”
“Yet you have had but one soul, goodwife!”
“Have I indeed?” asked Marie, and sat musing for a while. “Let me speak to you plainly, and answer me truly as you think. Do you believe that one who his whole life has sinned grievously against God in heaven, and who in his last moment, when he is struggling with death, confesses his sin from a true heart, repents, and gives himself over to the mercy of God, without fear and without doubt, do you think such a one is more pleasing to God than another who has likewise sinned and offended against Him, but then for many years of her life has striven to do her duty, has borne every burden without a murmur, but never in prayer or open repentance has wept over her former life, do you think that she who has lived as she thought was rightly lived, but without hope of any reward hereafter and without prayer, do you think God will thrust her from Him and cast her out, even though she has never uttered a word of prayer to Him?”
“That is more than any man may dare to say,” replied Master Holberg and left her.
Shortly afterwards he went away.
In August of the following year, judgment was pronounced against Sören Ferryman, and he was sentenced to three years of hard labor in irons at Bremerholm.
It was a long time to suffer, longer to wait, yet at last it was over. Sören came home, but the confinement and harsh treatment had undermined his health, and before Marie had nursed him for a year, they bore him to the grave.