[Subsection]

Skrim had reserved rooms for them at a small hotel. They started to go to bed, but there was too much din in the street   [p. 133]   outside. They sat in their chairs for a long time. Skrim had gone away again.

Hans turned a somersault on the floor. "Hey!" he said.

Per wished he could accept the light and noise of the town as simply as Hans. Hey! said Hans, and let what would happen, happen. Nothing seemed to affect him.

Skrim did not return. They crawled into bed. After they had turned out the light, a muted glow shone through the window. It was not the moon; it was the town shining in. On the one side of them came the sound of laughter through the wall, on the other the sound of water---someone was washing himself. Then the washing finished; the laughter ended. Out in the street the noise abated, but the light shone in.

It was impossible to sleep.

"What's the matter with you?" asked Hans.

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

Per did not enlighten him, and Hans did not ask again.

Fear of death was in the room. It gripped Per. He could not rid himself of the image of the dark pen full of cattle ready for the slaughter. Fear seeped in through the walls and the window, the old feeling that dreadful things were going to happen, that he would hear the destruction toppling around him.

He thought about God and then about Hell. Something was hanging on a thread and would snap. . . . That lonely bellow from the pen. There was nothing but death all around.

Hans was asleep beside him. Per dozed.

Why had Botolv trembled all over when he realized he was going to die?

Now the street was quiet. But the light shone in. They were in the town. Here it was never dark. Yes, it was dark. Who was that speaking?

"Per!" it said.

"Yes," he replied.

"Can you see me?"

Per was numb. It was dark. And a voice was speaking out of the darkness.

"I'm coming, Per!" said the voice threateningly.

"What!"

Hell---thought Per, Hell---

A hand came out of the darkness, he could not see it, it grabbed at him, he was dying, and he began bellowing wildly, turning up his eyes like the big bull at Bufast. He was dead and was sitting in a bed, thrashing out around him. Someone was lurching and babbling close beside him. He heard a curse. That was how Skrim used to curse when Per was alive and was with him on earth---

Skrim.

"Will you come to your senses!" said Skrim thickly. "You'll knock me out."

It was Skrim! He was alive and drunk. Per was alive too. Thank God, he was alive, and here was Skrim, drunk and smelling of brandy.

The room was there too; the light streamed in. Beside him Hans was sleeping. Alive and asleep. Thank God.

Skrim stood unsteadily, nodding and babbling.

"Go to bed in your own room, Skrim," said Per, curtly and commandingly.

Skrim obeyed on the instant. He muttered something and left. He even remembered to shut the door behind him.

Outside it was silent. What was the time? Here it was peaceful.

The light streamed in through the window silently and uninterruptedly in order that no one should die.