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"
I
got
into
the
boat
and
we
rowed
to
a
little
beach
near
the
end
of
the
point
.
Gustav
disappeared
and
then
came
back
.
He
said
Henrik
was
waiting
near
the
seide
,
the
Lapp
dolmen
.
It
was
safe
for
us
to
visit
his
hut
.
We
made
our
way
through
the
trees
up
a
small
slope
,
passed
over
to
the
northern
side
,
and
there
,
where
the
trees
were
thickest
,
in
a
depression
,
was
a
curious
cabin
.
It
had
been
sunk
into
the
ground
,
so
that
only
the
turf
roof
showed
on
three
sides
.
On
the
fourth
,
where
the
ground
fell
away
,
there
was
a
door
and
a
small
window
.
A
stack
of
wood
beside
the
house
.
But
no
other
sign
of
any
employment
.
"
Gustav
made
me
go
in
while
he
stayed
on
watch
outside
.
It
was
very
dark
.
As
bare
as
a
monastic
cell
.
A
truckle
bed
.
A
rough
table
.
A
tin
with
a
bundle
of
candles
.
The
only
concession
to
comfort
,
an
old
stove
.
There
was
no
carpet
,
no
curtain
.
The
lived
-
in
parts
of
the
room
were
fairly
clean
.
But
the
corners
were
full
of
refuse
.
Old
leaves
,
dirt
,
spiders
’
webs
.
An
odor
of
unwashed
clothes
.
There
was
one
book
,
on
the
table
by
the
one
small
window
.
A
huge
black
Bible
,
with
enormous
print
.
Beside
it
,
a
magnifying
glass
.
Pools
of
candlewax
.
"
I
lit
one
of
the
candles
to
look
at
the
ceiling
.
Five
or
six
beams
that
supported
the
roof
had
been
scraped
pale
and
along
them
had
been
carved
two
long
brown
-
lettered
texts
from
the
Bible
.
They
were
in
Norwegian
,
of
course
,
but
I
noted
down
the
references
.
And
on
a
cross
beam
facing
the
door
there
was
another
sentence
in
Norwegian
.
"
When
I
came
out
into
the
sunlight
again
I
asked
Gustav
what
the
Norwegian
sentence
meant
.
He
said
,
Henrick
Nygaard
,
cursed
by
God
,
wrote
us
in
his
own
blood
in
the
year
1912
.
That
was
ten
years
before
.
Now
I
will
read
you
the
other
two
texts
he
had
cut
and
then
stained
in
with
blood
.
"
Conchis
opened
the
book
beside
him
.
"
One
was
from
Exodus
:
’
They
encamped
in
the
edge
of
the
wilderness
.
And
the
Lord
went
before
them
by
day
in
a
pillar
of
cloud
,
and
by
night
in
a
pillar
of
fire
.
’
The
other
was
an
echo
of
the
same
text
in
the
Apocrypha
.
Here
.
From
Esdras
:
’
I
gave
you
light
in
a
pillar
of
fire
,
yet
have
you
forgotten
me
,
saith
the
Lord
.
’
"
These
texts
reminded
me
of
Montaigne
.
You
know
he
had
forty
-
two
proverbs
and
quotations
painted
across
the
beams
of
his
study
roof
.
But
there
was
none
of
the
sanity
of
Montaigne
in
Henrik
.
More
the
intensity
of
Pascal
’
s
famous
Mémorial
—
those
two
crucial
hours
in
his
life
that
he
could
afterwards
describe
only
by
one
word
:
feu
.
Sometimes
rooms
seem
to
imbibe
the
spirit
of
the
people
who
have
lived
in
them
—
think
of
Savonarola
’
s
cell
in
Florence
.
And
this
was
such
a
place
.
One
did
not
have
to
know
the
occupant
’
s
past
.
The
suffering
,
the
agony
,
the
mental
sickness
were
as
palpable
as
tumors
.
"
I
left
the
cabin
and
went
cautiously
towards
the
seide
.
It
came
in
sight
through
the
trees
.
It
was
not
a
true
dolmen
,
but
simply
a
tall
boulder
that
wind
and
frost
had
weathered
into
a
picturesque
shape
.
Gustav
pointed
.
Some
fifty
yards
away
,
on
the
far
side
of
a
clump
of
birches
,
hidden
from
the
seide
,
stood
a
man
.
I
focused
my
glasses
on
him
.
He
was
taller
than
Gustav
,
a
thin
man
with
rough
-
cut
dark
-
gray
hair
and
beard
and
an
aquiline
nose
.
He
turned
by
chance
and
faced
us
and
I
had
a
full
view
of
his
gaunt
face
.
What
surprised
me
was
its
fierceness
.
A
severity
that
was
almost
savagery
.
I
had
never
seen
a
face
that
expressed
such
violent
determination
never
to
compromise
,
never
to
deviate
.
Never
to
smile
.
And
what
eyes
!
They
were
slightly
exophthalmic
,
of
the
most
startling
cold
blue
.
Beyond
any
doubt
,
insane
eyes
.
Even
at
fifty
yards
I
could
see
that
.
He
wore
an
old
indigo
-
black
Lapp
smock
with
faded
red
braid
round
its
edges
.
Dark
trousers
and
heavy
snout
-
ended
Lapp
boots
.
And
in
his
hand
he
held
a
staff
.
"
I
watched
this
rare
specimen
of
humanity
for
some
time
.
I
had
expected
to
see
some
furtive
creature
,
someone
who
mumbled
to
himself
as
he
crept
through
the
trees
.
Not
this
fierce
blinded
hawk
of
a
man
.
Gustav
nudged
my
arm
again
.
The
nephew
appeared
by
the
seide
with
a
bucket
and
the
milk
can
.
He
put
them
down
,
picked
up
another
empty
bucket
that
must
have
been
set
there
by
Henrik
,
looked
round
,
and
then
cried
something
in
Norwegian
.
Not
very
loud
.
He
evidently
knew
where
his
father
was
,
for
he
faced
the
clump
of
birches
.
Then
he
disappeared
back
through
the
trees
.
After
five
minutes
Henrik
began
to
walk
up
towards
the
seide
,
Quite
confidently
,
but
feeling
his
way
with
the
end
of
the
staff
.
He
picked
up
the
bucket
and
can
,
placing
the
staff
under
his
arm
,
and
then
started
back
along
the
familiar
path
to
his
cabin
.
The
path
brought
him
within
twenty
yards
of
the
birch
scrub
behind
which
we
were
standing
.
Just
as
he
passed
us
I
heard
high
overhead
one
of
the
frequent
sounds
of
the
river
,
a
very
beautiful
one
,
like
the
calling
of
Tutankhamen
’
s
trumpets
.
The
flight
cry
of
a
black
-
throated
diver
.
Henrik
stopped
,
although
the
sound
must
have
been
as
banal
to
him
as
the
wind
in
the
trees
.
He
stood
there
,
his
face
turned
up
towards
the
sky
.
Without
emotion
,
without
despair
.
But
listening
,
waiting
,
as
if
it
might
be
the
first
notes
of
the
herald
angels
telling
him
the
great
visit
was
near
.
"
He
went
on
out
of
sight
and
I
returned
to
the
farmstead
with
Gustav
.
I
did
not
know
what
to
say
.
I
did
not
like
to
disappoint
him
,
to
admit
defeat
.
I
had
my
own
foolish
pride
.
After
all
,
I
was
a
foundermember
of
the
Society
of
Reason
.
In
the
end
I
concocted
a
plan
.
I
would
visit
Henrik
alone
.
I
would
tell
him
I
was
a
doctor
and
that
I
would
like
to
look
at
his
eyes
.
And
while
I
looked
at
his
eyes
,
I
would
try
to
look
at
his
mind
.
"
I
arrived
outside
Henrik
’
s
hut
at
midday
the
next
morning
.
It
was
raining
slightly
.
A
gray
day
.
I
knocked
on
the
cabin
door
and
stood
back
a
few
steps
.
There
was
a
long
pause
.
Then
he
appeared
,
dressed
exactly
as
he
had
been
the
evening
before
.
Face
to
face
and
close
to
him
I
was
struck
more
than
ever
by
his
fierceness
.
It
was
very
difficult
to
believe
that
he
was
nearly
blind
,
because
his
eyes
had
such
a
pale
,
staring
blueness
.
But
now
I
was
close
to
him
I
could
see
that
it
was
a
poorly
focused
stare
;
and
I
could
also
see
the
characteristic
opacity
of
cataract
in
both
eyes
.
He
must
have
been
very
shocked
,
but
he
gave
no
sign
of
it
.
I
asked
him
if
he
understood
English
—
I
knew
from
Gustav
that
he
in
fact
did
,
but
I
wanted
him
to
answer
.
All
he
did
was
to
raise
his
staff
,
as
if
to
keep
me
at
bay
.
It
was
a
warning
rather
than
a
threatening
gesture
.
So
I
took
it
to
mean
that
I
could
go
on
provided
that
I
kept
my
distance
.
"
I
explained
that
I
was
a
doctor
,
that
I
was
interested
in
birds
,
I
had
come
to
Seidavarre
to
study
them
—
and
so
on
.
I
spoke
very
slowly
,
remembering
that
he
could
not
have
heard
the
language
for
fifteen
years
or
more
.
He
listened
to
me
without
expression
.
I
began
to
talk
about
modern
methods
of
treatment
for
cataract
.
I
was
sure
that
a
hospital
could
do
something
for
him
.
All
the
time
,
not
a
single
word
.
At
last
I
fell
silent
.
"
He
turned
and
went
back
into
the
hut
.
He
left
the
door
open
,
so
I
waited
.
Suddenly
he
appeared
again
.
In
his
hand
he
held
what
I
held
,
Nicholas
,
when
I
came
on
you
this
afternoon
.
A
long
axe
.
But
I
knew
at
once
that
he
was
no
more
thinking
of
chopping
wood
than
a
berserk
about
to
enter
battle
.
He
hesitated
a
moment
,
then
rushed
at
me
,
swinging
the
axe
up
as
he
ran
.
If
he
had
not
been
nearly
blind
be
would
beyond
any
doubt
have
killed
me
.
As
it
was
I
sprang
back
only
just
in
time
.
The
axehead
went
deep
into
the
soil
.
The
two
moments
he
took
to
jerk
it
free
gave
me
the
time
to
run
.
"
He
came
stumbling
after
me
across
the
little
clearing
in
front
of
the
hut
.
I
ran
some
thirty
yards
into
the
trees
,
but
he
stopped
by
the
first
one
.
At
twenty
feet
he
probably
could
not
have
told
me
from
a
tree
trunk
.
He
stood
with
the
axe
poised
in
his
hands
,
listening
,
straining
his
eyes
.
He
must
have
known
I
was
watching
him
,
for
without
warning
he
turned
and
swung
the
axe
with
all
his
strength
into
a
silver
birch
just
in
front
of
him
.
It
was
a
fair
-
sized
tree
.
But
it
shook
from
top
to
bottom
with
the
blow
.
And
that
was
his
answer
.
I
was
too
frightened
by
the
violence
of
the
man
to
move
.
He
stared
a
moment
into
the
trees
where
I
stood
and
then
turned
and
walked
into
the
hut
,
leaving
the
axe
where
it
had
struck
.
"
I
went
back
to
the
farmstead
a
wiser
young
man
.
It
seemed
incredible
to
me
that
a
man
should
reject
medicine
,
reason
,
science
so
violently
.
But
I
felt
that
this
man
would
have
rejected
everything
else
about
me
as
well
if
he
had
known
it
—
the
pursuit
of
pleasure
,
of
music
,
of
reason
,
of
medicine
.
That
axe
would
have
driven
right
through
the
skull
of
all
our
pleasure
-
orientated
civilization
.
Our
science
,
our
psychoanalysis
.
To
him
all
that
was
not
the
great
meeting
was
what
the
Buddhists
call
lilas
—
the
futile
pursuit
of
triviality
.
And
of
course
to
have
been
concerned
about
his
blindness
would
have
been
for
him
more
futility
.
He
wanted
to
be
blind
.
It
made
it
more
likely
that
one
day
he
would
see
.
Some
days
afterwards
I
was
due
to
leave
.
On
my
last
evening
Gustav
kept
me
talking
very
late
.
Of
course
I
had
said
nothing
to
him
of
my
visit
.
It
was
a
windless
night
,
but
in
August
up
there
it
begins
to
get
cold
.
I
went
out
of
the
barn
to
urinate
when
Gustav
left
.
There
was
a
brilliant
moon
,
but
in
one
of
those
late
-
summer
skies
of
the
extreme
north
,
when
day
lingers
even
in
the
darkness
and
the
sky
has
strange
depths
.
Nights
when
new
worlds
seem
always
about
to
begin
.
I
heard
from
across
the
water
,
from
Seidevarre
,
a
cry
.
For
a
moment
I
thought
it
must
be
some
bird
,
but
then
I
knew
it
could
only
be
Henrik
.
I
looked
towards
the
farmstead
.
I
could
see
Gustav
had
stopped
,
was
standing
outside
,
listening
.
Another
cry
came
.
It
was
dragged
out
,
the
cry
of
someone
who
is
calling
a
great
distance
.
I
walked
across
the
grass
to
Gustav
.
Is
he
in
trouble
,
I
asked
.
He
shook
his
head
,
and
remained
staring
out
at
the
dark
shadow
of
Seidevarre
across
the
moon
-
gray
water
.
What
was
he
calling
?
Gustav
said
,
’
do
you
hear
me
?
I
am
here
.
’
And
then
the
two
cries
,
with
an
interval
between
,
came
again
and
I
could
make
out
the
Norwegian
words
.
’
Horer
du
migP
leg
er
her
.
’
Henrik
was
calling
to
God
.
"
I
told
you
how
sounds
carried
at
Seidevarre
.
Each
time
he
called
the
cry
seemed
to
stretch
out
infinitely
,
through
the
forest
,
over
the
water
,
into
the
stars
.
Then
there
were
receding
echoes
.
One
or
two
shrill
cries
from
distant
disturbed
birds
.
There
was
a
noise
from
the
farmstead
behind
us
.
I
looked
up
,
and
saw
a
white
figure
at
one
of
the
upper
windows
—
whether
Ragnar
or
her
daughter
,
I
could
not
see
.
It
was
as
if
we
were
all
under
a
spell
.
"
To
break
it
,
I
began
to
question
Gustav
.
Did
he
often
call
like
this
?
He
said
,
not
often
—
three
or
four
times
a
year
,
when
there
was
no
wind
and
a
full
moon
.
Did
he
ever
cry
other
phrases
?
Gustav
thought
back
.
Yes
—
’
I
am
waiting
’
was
one
.
’
I
am
purified
,
’
another
.
’
I
am
prepared
,
’
another
.
But
the
two
phrases
we
had
heard
were
the
ones
he
used
most
.
"
I
turned
to
Gustav
and
silently
asked
him
if
we
could
go
again
and
see
what
Henrik
was
doing
.
Without
answering
,
he
nodded
,
and
we
set
off
.
It
took
us
some
ten
or
fifteen
minutes
to
get
to
the
base
of
the
point
.
Every
so
often
we
heard
the
cries
.
We
came
to
the
seide
,
but
the
cries
were
still
some
way
off
.
Gustav
said
,
’
He
is
at
the
end
.
’
We
passed
the
cabin
,
and
walking
as
quietly
as
we
could
,
made
our
way
to
the
end
of
the
point
.
At
last
we
came
through
the
trees
.
"
Beyond
them
there
ran
out
a
beach
.
Some
thirty
or
forty
yards
of
shingle
.
The
river
narrowed
a
little
and
the
point
took
the
force
of
what
current
there
was
.
Even
on
a
night
as
calm
as
that
there
was
a
murmur
over
the
shallow
stones
.
Henrik
was
standing
at
the
very
tip
of
the
shingle
spit
,
in
about
a
foot
of
water
.
He
was
facing
out
to
the
northeast
,
to
where
the
river
widened
.
The
moonlight
covered
it
in
a
gray
satin
sheen
.
Out
in
midstream
there
were
long
low
banks
of
mist
.
As
we
watched
,
he
called
.
’
Horer
du
mig
?
’
With
great
force
.
As
if
to
someone
several
miles
away
,
on
the
invisible
far
bank
.
A
long
pause
.
Then
,
’
Jeg
er
her
.
’
I
trained
my
glasses
on
him
.
He
was
standing
legs
astride
,
his
staff
in
his
hand
,
biblically
.
There
was
silence
.
A
black
silhouette
in
the
glittering
current
.
Whistles
and
the
sough
of
wings
as
a
flock
of
widgeon
flew
overhead
.
"
Then
we
heard
Henrik
say
one
word
.
Much
more
quietly
.
It
was
takk
.
The
Norwegian
for
’
thanks
.
’
I
watched
him
.
He
stepped
back
a
pace
or
two
out
of
the
water
,
and
knelt
on
the
shingle
.
We
heard
the
sound
of
the
stones
as
he
moved
.
He
still
faced
the
same
way
.
His
hands
by
his
side
.
It
was
not
an
attitude
of
prayer
,
but
a
watching
on
his
knees
.
Something
was
very
close
to
him
,
as
visible
to
him
as
Gustav
’
s
dark
head
,
the
trees
,
the
moonlight
on
the
leaves
around
us
,
was
to
me
.
I
would
have
given
ten
years
of
my
life
to
have
been
able
to
look
out
there
to
the
north
,
from
inside
his
mind
.
I
did
not
know
what
he
was
seeing
,
but
I
knew
it
was
something
of
such
power
,
such
mystery
,
that
it
explained
all
.
And
of
course
Henrik
’
s
secret
flashed
in
on
me
,
almost
like
some
reflection
of
the
illumination
that
was
flashing
in
on
him
.
He
was
not
waiting
to
meet
God
.
He
was
meeting
God
;
and
had
been
meeting
him
probably
for
many
years
.
He
was
not
waiting
for
some
certainty
.
He
lived
in
it
.
"
Up
to
this
point
in
my
life
you
will
have
realized
that
my
whole
approach
was
scientific
,
medical
,
classifying
.
I
was
conditioned
by
a
kind
of
ornithological
approach
to
man
.
I
thought
in
terms
of
species
,
behaviors
,
observations
.
Here
for
the
first
time
in
my
life
I
was
unsure
of
my
standards
,
my
beliefs
,
my
prejudices
.
I
knew
the
man
out
there
on
the
point
was
having
an
experience
beyond
the
scope
of
all
my
science
and
all
my
reason
,
and
I
knew
that
my
science
and
reason
would
always
be
defective
until
they
could
comprehend
what
was
happening
in
Henrik
’
s
mind
.
I
knew
that
Henrik
was
seeing
a
pillar
of
fire
out
there
over
the
water
,
I
knew
that
there
was
no
pillar
of
fire
there
,
that
it
could
be
demonstrated
that
the
only
pillar
of
fire
was
in
Henrik
’
s
mind
.
"
But
in
a
flash
of
terrible
light
all
our
explanations
,
all
our
classifications
and
derivations
,
our
etiologies
,
suddenly
appeared
to
me
like
a
thin
net
.
That
great
passive
monster
,
reality
,
was
no
longer
dead
,
easy
to
handle
.
It
was
full
of
a
mysterious
vigor
,
new
forms
,
new
possibilities
.
The
net
was
nothing
,
reality
burst
through
it
.
Perhaps
something
telepathic
passed
between
Henrik
and
myself
.
I
do
not
know
.
"
That
simple
phrase
,
I
do
not
know
,
was
my
own
pillar
of
fire
.
An
ultimate
,
a
metaphysical
,
I
-
do
-
not
-
know
.
For
me
,
too
,
it
revealed
everything
.
For
me
too
it
brought
a
new
humility
akin
to
fierceness
.
For
me
too
a
profound
mystery
.
For
me
too
a
sense
of
the
vanity
of
so
many
things
our
age
considers
important
.
I
do
not
say
I
should
not
have
arrived
at
such
an
insight
one
day
.
But
in
that
night
I
bridged
a
dozen
years
.
Whatever
else
,
I
know
that
.
"
In
a
short
time
we
saw
Henrik
walk
back
into
the
trees
.
I
could
not
see
his
face
.
But
I
think
the
fierceness
it
wore
in
daylight
was
the
fierceness
that
came
from
his
contact
with
the
pillar
of
fire
.
Perhaps
for
him
the
pillar
of
fire
was
no
longer
enough
,
and
in
that
sense
he
was
still
waiting
to
meet
God
.
Living
is
an
eternal
wanting
more
,
in
the
coarsest
grocer
and
in
the
sublimest
mystic
.
But
of
one
thing
I
am
certain
.
If
he
still
lacked
God
,
he
had
the
Holy
Spirit
.
"
The
next
day
I
left
.
I
said
goodbye
to
Ragnar
