No, this is stupid! he says firmly, getting up. There’s no choice. The warning is sent out from those in charge, and one must go. It has nothing to do with conscience. It must be counted as an order.

Yes, that’s right. But none of this helps me, as long as I don’t see it that way. This is something that everyone has to settle for himself. Orders have nothing to do with it. This is a matter of conscience.

I want to stay here. I want to take part in it here. I want to stay in my house. It’s simple enough.

I’d better try to hide just for a short time and then come out again. Because I want to stay in my house the whole time.

Is it so simple? You must realize that you’ll be taken sooner or later, and what about Karen and Rascal then?

He groans.

Don’t think of that.

They have not been allowed to take that into account. Family considerations have had to be set aside. If they had not, the house would have collapsed long ago.

Take this from me! he prays. And it recedes.

Father, he thinks. It is easier to think of him in this bitter moment, and it gives him support.

I shall stay in the house, he says to everything that is trying to talk sense to him. And as soon as the decision is taken it becomes easier. He looks forward to telling John. He must do so at once. And then he’ll have to keep away for a while. And that must happen at once. And I’ll come through the ordeal if the worst should happen, he promises. He has experienced enough to feel certain about that. That decides it.

He goes in to Karen and Rascal.

‘I’m going down to the post-box with some letters. You haven’t anything to send, have you?’ he asks Karen, who is standing at the kitchen counter.

‘No,’ she replies without turning round. She is letting the water run so fast that it’s foaming. He’s not going to leave, only keep away for a while, so he is not given the impression of any parting sound in the frothing of the water. But it is the last thing he takes with him. It is not inappropriate either. How often Karen has stood like that, drawing water! Letting it run and then making things clean. The action lends him calmness and security. Now he must go.

Rascal is sitting in a litter of toys, drawing.

‘Rascal.’

He looks up quickly, watchful as always. ‘What is it, Father?’

Stig merely nods at him, laughing. ‘No, nothing.’

Rascal bends over his drawing again and Stig goes. He need not take any parting image of them with him, because he’s going to stay. Even if he does go into hiding for a while Karen shall be sent a message that he is not far away.

He walks along the passage. The arrows are shining in the empty main corridor. But here in the side passage are shadows and people: collecting their meagre rations, standing working, going on secret errands. They are all around Stig, their faces tense. Their whole existence is sucking at them, hollowing them out. Just now, when he too was walking here, about to leave, he had thought that he was seeing this drudgery for the last time. When I come back it will be over. And he could not deny that he had experienced a slight, but comfortable feeling of relief: Now it’s over for me. There are tasks to be done beyond the darkness too, but it will be so very different. There it’s not a matter of life or death. There they work in peace and quiet.