Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - In the old Tower - III
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“I have been a dreamer my whole life, if this
is a dream it is the most wonderful of all.”
“Perhaps your memory was stronger than
mine, strong enough to survive for a while the
parting from the body. I do not know, I do not
understand, it is all too deep for me. I do not
ask any questions.”
“That is why you are here, my friend. But
tell me, Arcangelo Fusco, does nobody up here
remember his life on earth?”
“They say not, they say only those who go to
Hell remember, that is why it is called Hell.”
“But tell me at least, Arcangelo Fusco, was
the trial hard, were the judges severe?”
“They looked rather severe at first, I was
beginning to tremble all over, I was afraid they
were going to ask me for particulars about the
Neapolitan shoemaker who had taken my wife
away from me and whom I had stabbed with his
own knife. But luckily they did not want to
know anything about the shoemaker. All they
asked me was, if I had handled any gold and I said
I had never had anything but coppers in my
hands. They asked me if I had hoarded any
goods or possessions of any kind, and I said I
possessed nothing but the shirt I had died in in
the hospital. They asked me nothing more and
let me in. Then came an angel with a huge
parcel in his hands.
“‘Take off your old shirt and put on your
Sunday clothes,’ said the angel. Would you
believe it, it was my old Sunday clothes I had
sold to pay the undertaker, all embroidered by
the angels with pearls, you will see me wear them
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