Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Midsummer
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of the hill on which the church stood. He gazed
down at Broby Strait, and followed it with his eyes
past the rectory and the three promontories on the
eastern shore of the Löfven, and they saw him
clench his fist and shake it over Broby and its green
shores. Then his glance glided southward to the
lower Löfven, to the blue headlands which seemed
to shut in the lake, and northward for miles past
Gurlita Cliff up to Björn Point, where the lake
ended. He looked eastward and westward where
the long hills edged the vale, and he shook his fist
again; and every one felt that, if he had held a
thunderbolt in his right hand, he would have flung it
in wild delight over the quiet country and spread
distress and death as far as he could reach, for he
had so accustomed his heart to evil that he knew
no pleasure except in misery. By degrees he had
taught himself to love all things ugly and wicked.
He was more crazy than the wildest madman, but
no one realized it.
Wonderful stories went about the country after
that. It was said that the key used by the sexton
in closing the church broke off by the stem, for a
tightly folded paper had been pushed into the keyhole.
This paper had been given to the rector. It was
a document intended, of course, for an inhabitant
of another world.
Its contents were whispered abroad. The rector
had burned it, but the sexton had watched the
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