The Collected Works. Selma Lagerlöf

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СКАЧАТЬ he could actually laugh at all the misery which he and our Lord had been forced to endure, and at the little that they had been obliged to content themselves with.

      Once, when things had turned out so badly for them that Saint Peter thought he couldn’t stand it any longer, our Lord had taken him to a high mountain, and had begun the ascent without telling him what they were there for.

      They had wandered past the cities at the foot of the mountain, and the castles higher up. They had gone past the farms and cabins, and had left behind them the last wood-chopper’s cave.

      They had come at last to the part where the mountain stood naked, without verdure and trees, and where a hermit had built him a hut, wherein he might shelter needy travelers.

      Afterward, they had walked over the snowfields, where the mountain-rats sleep, and come to the piled-up ice masses, which stood on edge and a-tilt, and where scarcely a chamois could pass.

      Up there our Lord had found a little red-breasted bird, that lay frozen to death on the ice, and He had picked up the bullfinch and tucked it in His bosom. And Saint Peter remembered he had wondered if this was to be their dinner.

      They had wandered a long while on the slippery ice-blocks, and it had seemed to Saint Peter that he had never been so near perdition; for a deadly cold wind and a deadly dark mist enveloped them, and as far as he could discover, there wasn’t a living thing to be found. And, still, they were only half-way up the mountain.

      Then he begged our Lord to let him turn back.

      “Not yet,” said our Lord, “for I want to show you something which will give you courage to meet all sorrows.”

      For this they had gone on through mist and cold until they had reached an interminably high wall, which prevented them from going farther.

      “This wall extends all around the mountain,” said our Lord, “and you can’t step over it at any point. Nor can any living creature see anything of that which lies behind it, for it is here that Paradise begins; and all the way up to the mountain’s summit live the blessed dead.”

      But Saint Peter couldn’t help looking doubtful. “In there is neither darkness nor cold,” said our Lord, “but there it is always summer, with the bright light of suns and stars.”

      But Saint Peter was not able to persuade himself to believe this.

      Then our Lord took the little bird which He had just found on the ice, and, bending backwards, threw it over the wall, so that it fell down into Paradise.

      And immediately thereafter Saint Peter heard a loud, joyous trill, and recognized a bullfinch’s song, and was greatly astonished.

      He turned toward our Lord and said: “Let us return to the earth and suffer all that must be suffered, for now I see that you speak the truth, and that there is a place where Life overcomes death.”

      And they descended from the mountain and began their wanderings again.

      And it was years before Saint Peter saw any more than this one glimpse of Paradise; but he had always longed for the land beyond the wall. And now at last he was there, and did not have to strive and yearn any more. Now he could drink bliss in full measure all day long from never-dying streams.

      But Saint Peter had not been in Paradise a fortnight before it happened that an angel came to our Lord where He sat upon His throne, bowed seven times before Him, and told Him that a great sorrow must have come upon Saint Peter. He would neither eat nor drink, and his eyelids were red, as though he had not slept for several nights.

      As soon as our Lord heard this, He rose and went to seek Saint Peter.

      He found him far away, on one of the outskirts of Paradise, where he lay upon the ground, as if he were too exhausted to stand, and he had rent his garments and strewn his hair with ashes.

      When our Lord saw him so distressed, He sat down on the ground beside him, and talked to him, just as He would have done had they still been wandering around in this world of trouble.

      “What is it that makes you so sad, Saint Peter?” said our Lord.

      But grief had overpowered Saint Peter, so that he could not answer.

      “What is it that makes you so sad?” asked our Lord once again.

      When our Lord repeated the question, Saint Peter took the gold crown from his head and threw it at our Lord’s feet, as much as to say he wanted no further share in His honor and glory.

      But our Lord understood, of course, that Saint Peter was so disconsolate that he knew not what he did. He showed no anger at him.

      “You must tell me what troubles you,” said He, just as gently as before, and with an even greater love in His voice.

      But now Saint Peter jumped up; and then our Lord knew that he was not only disconsolate, but downright angry. He came toward our Lord with clenched fists and snapping eyes.

      “Now I want a dismissal from your service!” said Saint Peter. “I can not remain another day in Paradise.”

      Our Lord tried to calm him, just as He had been obliged to do many times before, when Saint Peter had flared up.

      “Oh, certainly you can go,” said He, “but you must first tell me what it is that displeases you.”

      “I can tell you that I awaited a better reward than this when we two endured all sorts of misery down on earth,” said Saint Peter.

      Our Lord saw that Saint Peter’s soul was filled with bitterness, and He felt no anger at him.

      “I tell you that you are free to go whither you will,” said He, “if you will only let me know what is troubling you.”

      Then, at last, Saint Peter told our Lord why he was so unhappy. “I had an old mother,” said he, “and she died a few days ago.”

      “Now I know what distresses you,” said our Lord. “You suffer because your mother has not come into Paradise.”

      “That is true,” said Saint Peter, and at the same time his grief became so overwhelming that he began to sob and moan.

      “I think I deserved at least that she should be permitted to come here,” said he.

      But when our Lord learned what it was that Saint Peter was grieving over, He, in turn, became distressed. Saint Peter’s mother had not been such that she could enter the Heavenly Kingdom. She had never thought of anything except to hoard money, and to the poor who had knocked at her door she had never given so much as a copper or a crust of bread. But our Lord understood that it was impossible for Saint Peter to grasp the fact that his mother had been so greedy that she was not entitled to bliss.

      “Saint Peter,” said He, “how can you be so sure that your mother would feel at home here with us?”

      “You say such things only that you may not have to listen to my prayers,” said Saint Peter. “Who wouldn’t be happy in Paradise?”

      “One who does not feel joy over the happiness of others can not rest content СКАЧАТЬ