‘Perplexing. There’s that word again.’

‘Yes, I’m sorry,’ says Stig.

‘But it’s no longer perplexing. It’s quite clear now.’

Stig is relieved to hear it. He needs to hear that it is no longer a matter for perplexity. He has brought this out into the open purposely – that it is no longer perplexing. You must remember that whenever you’re in trouble, he tells himself, it’s no longer perplexing. He says aloud: ‘When I hear you say that it helps me, too, to think that it isn’t perplexing.’

His companion is so wrapped up in his thoughts that he does not notice at first what Stig is saying. He is deciding why it isn’t perplexing. He has said it already, but repeats: ‘There’s one thing forcing everything else aside and making it simple now, and that is that we must.’

He is strong, sitting there accusing himself so bitterly, and Stig is strong too. Hope radiates from the two of them and circulates widely in the house.

Stig nods: ‘That’s how we feel too. We feel we must. That there’s only one course of action.’

His companion adds: ‘Yes, so it’s not perplexing.’

They both feel the need to assert this, to repeat it. Deep down lurks the nagging anxiety that they are trying to deaden, but that will not let itself be deadened.

Then Stig adds: ‘It ought to be sufficient, the fact that one must.’

He does not conclude his train of thought; each of them can do that for himself. The thought that it is not sufficient to give peace of mind all the same. Both of them are strong, but they recognize each other’s need and know that they cannot free themselves from it. They are not perplexed in the straightforward sense of the word; they must, and that is simple. But they are perplexed in a worse way. It is not enough that they have no choice. Something about it is wrong all the same. Something in them revolts against what they must do now, because they are human and have acquired so much that cannot be jettisoned in an instant.

Now things are different, and yet….

Now we find ourselves in a bewitched house. And we must do this or that. And therefore we go and do it.

The man with the austere office who has taken his vows sits here, aware of Stig’s need; Stig, who is sacrificing himself for what he must do, without regard for himself. He does not need to search his soul to find the same need. It lies there like an enormous shadow and he must pay no attention to it.

‘It is not sufficient, because something is violated,’ he says.

‘Yes, one feels that,’ admits Stig, who has to act blindly against people and against the work of their hands, because it would be even worse if he did not; who receives orders, and must cleanse his heart and then go and see that the order is carried out. It is Stig’s hard destiny, to which he must submit and for which he must suffer.