Christian Christiansson felt dizzy. "Perhaps I haven't--perhaps I have," he said in a faint voice, "but I've known despair, and I know that no man can live by that. We can only live by hope--not what is, but what is to be--and if we cannot believe when the clouds are dark, that the world is ruled in righteousness----"
"And is it?" said Magnus. "Does the bad man suffer in this world? Do his sheep die of the rot and his cattle tumble over the rocks, or do they increase faster than anybody else's? No, sir," he said, turning away in his seat, "if you're a rascal ready to rob your own father, the chances are you'll prosper in this world, but if you're an honest man trying to do good to everybody, as likely as not you'll do no good to yourself or to anybody about you."
The dizziness which had seized Christian Christiansson was increasing every moment, but he said:
"The world has its own way of punishing offenders, and even if they escape in life, death is always waiting for them----"
"Death?" said Magnus, swinging round in his creaking chair. "Death is a blind, blundering monster who strikes down the young and leaves the old, the happy and leaves the miserable, the innocent and leaves the guilty, the poor helpless betrayed one and leaves the betrayer! We have all seen that, haven't we? I have, I know that much."
The heat and flame of Magnus's husky voice had fallen to a thick whisper that was like a broken sob. Christian Christiansson dared not raise his face, but he tried to say:
"God brings out all things well in the end. I have always found it so. The march of the world may be enveloped in darkness, but it tends toward justice in the long run."
"What is the long run to me, sir?" said Magnus. "I'm only here for a few years and I want justice now. I want to see the bad man punished in the present, not in some future generation. Justice, you say! The sins of the fathers visited on the children--that's the only justice I see in this world. A poor child left penniless because her father gambled or drank the money he didn't make--do you call that justice, sir? I don't!"
Magnus's thick voice was breaking again, and there was silence for a little while.
"No, no, sir! Don't tell me we get our deserts in this world--any of us--good or bad. Life gives the lie to that old story--always has, always will do. If you are a cheat or a profligate, or a prodigal, you may live in luxury and travel as far as the sun, but if you are a poor devil staying at home and working your fingers to the bone you'll get thrown out into the road. But what's the good of talking? The evil day is coming. Let it come!"