“Shouldn’t care about it, to tell the truth,” he answered. “But if I had to, well, I should provide myself with a bottle of whisky, and empty it. Then, when the ground began to move a bit, I should just wait till the part where I stood—or lay—came uppermost, and the top of Borgarfjall under; it would be easy enough to just give a heave and roll down to it. Otherwise, I think I should wait till after death.”
“But you don’t believe in any life after death,” said Ørlygur, smiling.
The doctor’s manner changed abruptly. “I don’t know,” he said seriously. “Don’t know what I do believe.” Then, returning to his former mischievous tone, he went on: “Anyhow, I fancy whisky is a freethinker. And I sometimes feel the spirit moving me.”
Ørlygur was smiling no longer. “What is it like to get drunk?” he asked.
The doctor looked at him searchingly, then laughed aloud.
“Well, it makes you somewhat foolhardy as a rule,” he said. “And light-hearted, light-headed, and all the rest of it. Afterwards, it’s apt to be the other way—heavy, you know, especially about the head. You’ve a charming frankness, by the way, young man, when it comes to asking delicate questions.”
“Why should I not?” said Ørlygur quickly. “Would you prefer me to pretend I didn’t know you drank?”
The doctor was somewhat taken aback. “No,” he said; “I shouldn’t. Your straightforwardness is one of your best qualities. You don’t care for whisky, I know. But come over one day and get drunk on it—it will probably save you, at any rate for some time, from any risk of going that way yourself.”
“I didn’t feel any wish to try,” said Ørlygur. “It just occurred to me, that was all.”
They walked up and down in silence, Ørlygur looking straight before him, the doctor watching him covertly the while.
“Most likely a woman,” he thought to himself. “In trouble of some sort, that’s clear. And—funny thing, now I come to think of it, we’ve never heard anything about his being taken with any one up till now. Anyhow, why he should be troubled about anything in that line, I can’t make out. She must be a fool who wouldn’t have him and gladly. Hearts are a nuisance.”
He murmured the last words half aloud, and sighed.
Ørlygur glanced at him. “What is it?” he asked.