The things we do!

Also, I
was looking about for a nail from some corpse. I wanted a nail; it was a
fancy of mine, a little whim. I had found a nice piece of birch-root that
I wanted to carve to a pipe-bowl in the shape of a clenched fist; the
thumb was to act as a lid, and I wanted a nail to set in, to make it
specially lifelike. The ring finger was to have a little gold ring bent
round.
Thinking of such trifles kept my mind calm and at ease. There was no hurry
now for me about anything in life. I could dream as I pleased, having
nothing else to do; the evenings were my own. If possible, too, I would
see and arrive at some feeling of respect for the sacredness of the church
and terror of the dead; I had still a memory of that rich mysticism from
days now far, far behind, and wished I could have some share in it again.
Now, perhaps, when I found that nail, there would come a voice from the
tombs: "That is mine!" and I would drop the thing in horror, and take to
my heels and run.
"I wish that vane up there wouldn't creak so," Grindhusen would say at
times.


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