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entering the harbour my friend jumped into the
sea, I after him. We were picked up, and sat in
an unheated train to Copenhagen, our clothes
frozen to ice, the temperature 20 Centigrades
below zero. The rest of the journey went
remarkably well, the cold bath seemed to have
done my friend a lot of good. One hour after
the crossing to Malmö I handed over my friend
in the railway station at Lund to two warders
from the asylum. I drove to the hotel—there
was only one hotel in Lund in those days—and
ordered a room and breakfast. I was told I
could have breakfast but no room, all the rooms
being reserved for the theatrical company which
was giving a gala performance in the Municipal
Hall that same evening. While I was having
my breakfast the waiter brought me with great
pride the programme for the night’s performance
of ‘Hamlet,’ a tragedy in five acts by William
Shakespeare. Hamlet in Lund! I glanced at
the programme:
Hamlet, Prince of Denmark.....Mr. Erik Carolus Malmborg.
I stared at the programme, Erik Carolus
Malmborg! Could it be possible that it was my
old pal from the university days in Upsala!
Erik Carolus Malmborg was to become a priest
in those days. I had crammed him for his exams,
had written his first proof sermon as well as his
love-letters to his fiancée during a whole term.
I had flogged him regularly every evening when
he came home drunk to sleep in my spare room,
he had been kicked out for disorderly conduct
from his own lodgings. I had lost sight of him
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