en gets up
again.) Let me get away from here. (Stops.) To think that I should be
the one to come up! that it should just happen to-night that I did not
receive my paper, and so went out! It almost seems more than accident.
Indeed, I often had a foreboding that it would happen. (Stands opposite
the bedroom door.) But is he dead? I think I will go and fetch the
Doctor. Oh no, of course the maid has gone for him. He hasn't long
to live, anyway; I could see that. (Walks forward, pointing with
his finger.) "There goes the man that killed Halvdan Rejn! And his
punishment was that he had to lift up his bloodstained body himself."
That is what they will say; and they will look at me as if--. (Sits
down.) No, let me get away! (Takes a few steps, then stops suddenly.)
That article in to-morrow's paper! It is worse than the others! (Pulls
out his watch.) Too late--the post has gone! I would have given--.
(Checks himself.) I have nothing worth giving. In the morning It will
be known all over the town just as everyone is reading my fresh article.
There will be a riot; I shall be hunted like a wild beast. What shall I
do? I might sneak out of the town? Then they will gloat over me! I won't
allow them that pleasure! No, I cannot stay my hand utter a failure;
only after a victory. That is the cursed part of it-never, never to be
able to end it. Oh, for some one that could end it--end it, end it! Oh,
for one day of real peace! Shall _I_ ever get that? (Sits down.) No,
no, I must get away! (Gets up.) To-morrow must take care of itself.
(Starts.) There is the paper he was reading! (Steps over it.) I will
take it away--and burn it. (Takes it up.) I cannot burn it here; some
one might come. (Is just going to put it into his pocket, as it is, but
takes it out again to fold it better.) A Sunday's paper, apparently!
Then it is _not_ to-day's? An old number, I suppose. Then the whole
thing is a mistake! (Sighs with relief.) Let me look again! (Opens the
paper, tremblingly.) I don't deserve it, but--. (Reads.) Sunday, the--.
_To-morrow's_ paper? _Here_? How in all the world did it get here?
(Appears horrified.) Here are the articles about Evje! How on earth did
they get in? Didn't I send a message? Didn't I write? This on the top of
everything else! Are even my printers conspiring against me? Well, even
if it ruins me, I shall go on! They shall find out what I can do. How on
earth can I be expected to help it if a weak-minded fellow dies, or if
m