That evening, when he and his wife were in bed and the light was out, he yawned heavily, and said in a tired voice:
"Isn't it a strange thing that we human beings, who may die at any moment, should pass all our time in doing evil to others?"
Marit sighed and smoothed out the sheet over the counterpane.
"And when we look into our own hearts, we see that even those who go wrong and commit crime need not be any worse than one of us."
After a brief pause Marit answered: "No, not if they repent; there is pardon for them too, then, I suppose."
It was very quiet during the pauses in their conversation. The winter night was dark and cold, and now and again the wind was heard whistling past the corner like a dying howl.
In this feeling of death and the dark night, Norby again saw the parish--his parish; but this time all the people were alike, they were all ready to die, all cold, pale, suffering beings, such as one ought to be good to.
"Do you know what I'm thinking about, Marit?"
"Why, that if we do something downright bad it's not at all certain that the consequences will be obliterated if we die. It's very likely they go on living and doing harm to others for a long time."
"But can you tell me then how such a man can have peace in his grave?"
Marit expressed her opinion that our intelligence was not sufficient for that, and turned over on the other side.
The old man lay long, however, seeing a long string of Wangen's descendants having to suffer for this. Could he then at the same time be saved and sit in heaven? He lay there looking and looking, until he grew hot with anxiety lest he should not get any sleep that night either. He began to be sure that he had some disease or other, perhaps heart-disease. And then, while he stood in the witness-box and held up his fingers, it would come. He would drop down.
At last he sat up in bed and quietly struck a match. Heaven help us! It was past two already, and he had not slept yet.
When he once more tried to go to sleep, he began to see how difficult it is honestly and fairly to put right a wrong done.
"If I wanted to make it all straight again," he said to himself, "neither getting forgiveness from God nor taking my punishment in a prison would help, for my wicked accusation would still live somewhere. But if I could find out all the ways it had gone, and follow all the threads to the end, should I be finished then? No. I should have to give compensation for the evil consequences. One will have forgotten the falsehood, another will have laughed at it, but a third will remember it and make Wangen suffer for it. But suppose I could make up for this too? Would that be the end of it? No. There would still be need to pay for what he suffered all the time people believed him guilty. Can that be paid for? No! No!" And he involuntarily shook his head as he lay with closed eyes. How was he to get to sleep?