Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - V. Purgatory
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each other while their clothes flutter in the
wind. It is a masterpiece of primitive culture.
The third day it is a Madonna and Child in
the Byzantine style, of incomparable beauty of
outline. After I have drawn copies of all three
in black chalk, I place them on my table. A
friendly painter visits me; he regards the three
statuettes with growing curiosity, and asks who
has “made” them. In order to try him, I mention
the name of a Norwegian sculptor. “No,”
he says, “I should rather be inclined to ascribe
them to Kittelsen, the famous illustrator of the
Swedish legends.”
I do not believe in demons, and yet I wish to
see the impression which my little figures make
on the sparrows who generally take their crumbs
from my window-sill. So I place them there.
The sparrows are frightened and remain aloof.
There is then some likeness in the figures which
they can distinguish, and some reality in this
conjunction of dead material and fire.
The sun, as it warms my little figures, makes
the demon with the cock’s head collapse. This
reminds me of the country-people’s saying that
if the dwarfs wait too long till sunrise, they die.
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