‘But can I be damned when I don’t believe in God?’ Professor Andersen asked himself. ‘Because I don’t, since it’s impossible for me to follow the divine command. Oh, it’s no use,’ he sighed, ‘because I do, indeed, feel damnation now, I’m not able to conjure it away. I don’t even feel frightened of sticking my tongue out at God, and no one would be shaken to the depths of their being if I were to announce that. It’s quite simply a strange idea to imagine that I have committed a sin of any kind. I can relate to the notion of damnation, but not to the fact that when I snapped my fingers and let a murderer off, I sinned against God. It’s strange, odd. And I’m freezing cold. I’ve gone beyond a limit, and when I passed it, I met something I found necessary to address as God. It was freezing cold and strange. No, I don’t want to stay here. I’ll shake it off me, turn round and walk on, home again, if I may say so,’ thought Professor Andersen.
At that very moment the doorbell rang. Professor Andersen almost jumped out of his skin. Who could it be? Then he realised. Next Wednesday. It was next Wednesday. He went to the front door and opened it. There was Henrik Nordstrøm. Professor Andersen greeted him in the doorway, attired in his dressing gown over his pyjamas. ‘I’ve been ill,’ said Professor Andersen to the man across the threshold. ‘Have been, or are?’ asked Henrik Nordstrøm. ‘I don’t know, really,’ smiled Professor Andersen, as he leaned against the door, which he held ajar. ‘If you are going to come along, then you have to hurry up and get changed,’ said Henrik Nordstrøm. ‘No, it’s not possible, because if I am well again then I have a lot of work to catch up on.’ ‘Then you’re not coming, I take it?’ said Henrik Nordstrøm, and looked at his watch. ‘No, I’m sorry, it’s just not possible.’ ‘Very well,’ said Henrik Nordstrøm, ‘that may be, but it would have done you good to come along. But maybe another time.’ ‘Yes, maybe another time,’ answered Professor Andersen. He thought he would wish Henrik Nordstrøm ‘good luck’ with the horse, in order to round off the conversation in that way, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Instead he thought that he would say ‘take care’ or ‘goodbye’, but he couldn’t bring himself to say that either. Then Henrik Nordstrøm looked at his watch again, turned round and went downstairs. Professor Andersen heard his rapid foot-steps on the way down. Suddenly, he thought of something and hurried over to the banister, leaned over it and shouted to the man who was on the point of disappearing, ‘When are you going to leave, by the way?’ ‘Leave?’ he heard the other man’s voice calling up to him. ‘Yes, for the Far East?’ ‘Oh, that. Any time now. In a few weeks, perhaps in a few months.’ ‘What are you going to do with your apartment? Sell it?’ ‘Sell it? What for? I’ll be coming back. At some point. Perhaps rent it out, or I may just leave it empty. My sister can always stay there, when she comes to Oslo.’ ‘Yes, that sounds sensible. Are your parents alive?’ ‘My parents? What makes you ask that?’ ‘Well, I don’t know, it was just something that struck me. But I can’t stand here in the corridor any longer,’ he shouted to the man below, ‘for I’m starting to shiver. It would be silly to catch the flu right now, when I’m beginning to get well.’ ‘Yes, take care, and read the results from the first race at Bjerke in the newspapers tomorrow. The horse is called Sugar Pile, and you can look for that name at the top of the page.’ ‘Yes, I’ll do that,’ said Professor Andersen, ‘but now I must go in and have a warm bath.’ With these words he went into his apartment, locked the door and continued to pace restlessly around the apartment. ‘Perhaps I should do that?’ he thought after a while. ‘Do what?’ he asked himself. And he came to a halt. ‘Have a bath,’ he replied, to himself. ‘Yes, why not?’ he added. ‘A really hot bath, that would certainly do me good,’ he thought.