In bed?—How the devil am I to remain in bed? Tell me that!
You must not get up in this condition. Why, you are delirious!
What a fool you are—don't you know that there is a dry spell.
Yes, I AM aware of the dry spell.—It was evidently not quite clear to him what that had to do with the case.—Have a chair, and we will talk it over.
A chair? No!—Who, then, should dry the hay in the homefield? I had some of it cut when I was taken down—why do you contradict me? And the youngsters have made some attempts at it—but who is to see about drying it?—Not Gudrun—she can't do everything. The youngsters?—what do they know about drying hay?—Who, then, is to do it?—Are YOU going to do it?
Something will turn up for you, said the doctor, somewhat at a loss.
Something will turn up? Nothing has ever turned up for ME.
Cold shivers passed through me. His remark rang true: I knew that 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.