Norby grasped the arms of his chair and pressed his lips together, and the two men looked at one another. At last Norby cleared his throat again.
“You’re in your second childhood,” he said. “You’d better get home and go to bed.” He rose and turned towards the window, but then seemed to recollect something fresh, and looked again at the cottager.
“And by-the-bye, if you appear at the inquiry I shall have you declared irresponsible. Now go!”
“Good-bye!” said the other gently as he moved towards the door. “I only wanted to lie quiet in my coffin,” he said once more, and then went quietly out.
Norby remained standing at the window with his hands in his pockets. It had done him good to be able to laugh for once; but it was still better to be able to be angry with some one besides one’s self.
They’d better just come and interfere in matters that concerned only himself and God Almighty! If they did, he was still man enough to show them the door. They’d better begin suspecting that he was not happy! If they did, he would be man enough to show them something else. It would not be that poor old fellow at any rate who would make him break down. There would be no confession to-day. Some way out of the difficulty could still be found.
While he was sitting at supper that evening, Marit said with a little laugh: “Do you know that the widow down at Lidarende has started helping Wangen?”
“No.” But it was a piece of news that stung, and he thought of that active woman with the bright face that usually smiled at him; but suddenly her face seemed to become grave, to turn away from him towards Wangen.
It would be a nice thing indeed if they began to doubt Wangen’s guilt in the parish. If they one and all continued to believe in it, so that Norby could be at peace with God Almighty, he might still make his confession. But he would have peace. They must not think they could take him by force.