Sow and reap - part2

(oversatt fra SÅDD OCH SKØRD - bok som kostet kr 1,50 for hundre år siden)   | reprinted as book-swedish

also as pdf with some more illustrations.

audiobook mp3 of this book

Translated from Swedish- continues from part 1.

  Translated from: http://galactic.no/rune/oscarbusch_saddOchSkord2.txt 

on the other side

   What it means to end a hardworking earthly life - full of trials, and move
over to the other side/the “summer-land/ country” with the feeling that, however, to have taken a small step forward in development, that can not be enough understood down there on Earth, where we go around blindfolded and  do not have a clue about the country on the other side - the summer land/country, with all its glory and joy.

   I woke up and looked around me. Where was I , where had “they" brought me?
I lay out in a meadow. All around me, I saw only flowers and tall grass. Birds
singing, the flowers smelled, and the balmy breeze blew caressing through my hair. I
felt it so easy to breathe, but I was very tired, I closed my eyes and fell into a light
slumber.

 
    How long I lay in this pleasant daze, I do not know. I had the sensation that I
recovered after a long and severe illness, and that I would soon have the power, if I only was calm.  It was so nice to open your eyes and see the beautiful landscape, for
then to close them again and feel the pleasant numbness in all limbs. I thought I dreamed ,
and yet I seemed to be awake, but really awake, I was probably not, because I was not
on the sick bed - where I just struggled with the fever. I did not dare to move a limb, so afraid I was that all this glorious magic would disappear.
    Then I felt a warm hand that stroked my head. I turned my head and saw
a figure sitting in the grass behind me. He smiled kindly at me.
    - How do you feel now? he asked.
    - Marvelous, I said, -well, just a little tired. But who are you?
    -Do not you recognize AKAB?
    -AKAB ... Akab? What strange memories came not up when I heard this name. -
Akab, it is you, my old teacher and friend? But how did I get here?
    I have brought you from the earth, which you left behind + your dead body, and put you
here in the grass - so you would get a rest for a while. You've slept so well, while I sat here
watching over you.
    -Am I dead, you say?
    -Yes, as they call it on Earth, but in fact, you are more alive than ever.
Do not feel how the new life is pulsing through your veins?
    -Well, it is so comfortable, I feel so healthy.
    Yes, you feel good now and will get even better when you are strong enough to follow
Me higher up. I will then pick you up, but leave you now for a short time while you are taken
care of by an old acquaintance who asked to receive you. She lives here just next door. See,
there she is already. Live well, we'll see you again soon.

    I waved my hand in farewell and saw me wondering around for she who would
help me. There came a female creature with light, silent steps towards me. What she was
beautiful! Dark, dreamy eyes, black hair; like curling in ringlets down the neck, a skin
that was browned by the sun. She looked so friendly. Where had I seen that face before; it
seemed so familiar?
    -Welcome John! she said, as she knelt in the grass beside me. You look so
surprised. Do not you recognize me?
    Is that ... is it really you, Laura? So beautiful you have become!
    Yes, we becomes a little prettier when coming over here for the summer country, she said
with a suggestive smile. And that I came here, I have you to thank. Therefore, I
asked Akab to receive you here in my home.

If you want me to support you, I think you now have the energy to follow me on the small road across the meadow.

    We went together to her home, where she decorated a small delightful place on my behalf.
    There I spent a period of calm, where I rested after the earthly life that was me
such a heavy burden. My great joy was to see the remarkable change that had taken place
with Laura. She was so friendly and affectionate towards me, she did everything to prepare me comfort and joy.
    Once, when we were like two old friends sitting, and talking about our memories and
experiences; she said:
    -You can now view all of our past earthly life with all its sorrows and trials, but may be
you can also look further back to the period when you were Wolfgang and I Gertrude?
    -Wolfgang ... Gertrude? The looming so strange characters past my mind's inner eye.
Wolfgang ... Gertrud! Oh, it's bad memories you evoke. Was it you and me?
    Yeah, look at them closely, so do you probably recognize them. She put me in front of a mirror, or whatever it was, and stroke over its surface. Then appeared, as in a movie theater,
moving pictures of our penultimate earthly life (2 incarnations back in time.)

    No, remove those ugly pictures, I asked. Why drag up these embarrassing recollections
now, when I feel so good?
    -It is to initiate you in gratitude for the change we both went through, she said,
not to worry, that I wanted to remind you of times past. I have sat here while
I waited for you, and read in the ' image writing' Akab lent me, about our life together on
earth, both the last and the two preceding, and I have longed for this a
while, when I could show them to you, and we could seek to interpret them together. Here
I have another mirror, which reproduces images from a life that is even further back in time.

    She stroked it the same way, and the same scenes that I saw once when I was sitting
watching over Gertrude in        , came back with life's warm color against me.

 (seems to be like todays PADs with touch-screens, which we now – more than 100years later, also have here on the pfysical earth-level. Rø-rem. of 2013)

    Can not you understand what it torments me to see this? I said. I have to admit that even
this was me, but why should I again be reminded of all this?
    - I have produced these images; so that we might learn something from them. I wanted so
happy with you get to look back on the stages we traveled.
    Maybe you're right. It shall then be interesting  to hear what you thought about our strange fates.
    Well, she started, you jerked me once, when I was a naive child of nature, from
the environment I belonged. You took me half with, half against my will and took me away to
Your castle. What did I know - what fate awaited me, then the grand knight
Luigi gave me her jewelry and attracted me to jump up on his pommel.
The adventure enchanted me, but it was not long before defiance awoke in my breast. I was
children of a free people who do not recognize any master. Liberty was the breath of life I imbibed from the time I lay upon my mother's breasts, the freedom was me more precious than life. When I saw how all my steps were watched, how I actually was a prisoner in the palace, for which I dreamed of owning and mastering, then came hatred in the poor Zenia's heart.

Yes, I think it was more loss of freedom than the abuse I was subjected to; when other women soon took my seat, which in my mind, founded the bitterness which it then cost me so many sufferings to be obliterated. Now it's gone, and I can sit quiet and watch the past and be
pleased to welcome you in my home. Now I have learned to value you as my best
friend.
    -Thanks for the words! But do not cancel your story. How  did you prepare your escape?
    I bribed the guard at the drawbridge with a few bottles of wine, and so I went out a bleak
autumn morning, before anyone was still awake in the castle, - out into the wide world with a few gold coins in my pocket and a small child in her arms. I was poor and had to beg my way. What did it matter - I was free and I had my little boy, my Angelo, which I loved passionately.
    My own tribe, I dared not to seek up, but joined soon another gipsy tribe,
and then lived with these wilderness children a wandering life. I danced for bread for
me and my baby, and when I could no longer dance, I predicted in cards, both high and
low, it was more beneficial. Though I had many offers, I never wanted to get married. Freedom from all bands, was my way. It germinated also deep in my soul, a hatred for men. Full became my mind in turmoil as I thought about how they despise the woman, how they override her. I had got to know and feel it, I, and yet in my old days - I could tremble with rage when these thoughts came over me.

  -  And all of this was my fault. It's terrible what I have much on my conscience,
I interrupted.

    -You dear friend! Do you think it is to make yourself reproaches as I sit and talk about
this? No, my mind is now so free from any the slightest feeling of resentment, yes, even more, now I owe you thanks for what you last made for me, and that is to learn to understand what to pull up from these memories.

    -Continue then. Did you get any joy out of your son - our son?

    As long as he was a child, he was my life's great consolation and my heart's treasure. He was the sun over my thorny path. All my thoughts were about how he was going to be great and beautiful and happy. But he was a bastard of knightly hall's grandeur and the gipsy tents rags; he belonged to neither, but was pulled to them both, and therefore he was a dreamer. He
had once been given a pencil, and it was his joy when he came across a piece of paper; to
sit and draw, lost in admiration over a tree branch or a flower.

    He was not like any of us, his limbs were tender, his hair blond, his skin
white. It was my pride, but it gave my constant concern, for I felt that he was not in the long run could stay with me. One day he disappeared, he had fled without saying
me farewell. He was well when about 18 years. My poor Angelo, he knew that I
rather sat the dagger in his chest than voluntarily waived him.

    -what happend further for yourself after the loss?
    -With me it was over. Since I vain by strayed far distances about our
camp and shouted his name in the forest hides, until my voice failed me, I put a new bitterness to the old. I closed myself within myself, became stum and grumpy and was considered by my tribe as deranged. I let them believe it, but I had my full sense and understanding. All my thoughts were now about revenge, revenge on him who betrayed me, revenge to him that ran away from me, revenge upon all men, for they were the root of all the evil world.
    Yes, such was I then and such I went over to this world, where I was for a while,
which seemed to me to never end, and brought me a miserable existence. I remember it so well yet, it can best be described as a bleak twilight without a sunray, and no time of joy.
Still reveled my thoughts of hate and vengeance against both men that devastated my life.

    Finally got a good spirit and sought me out. He gave me the education and care,
he melted the ice around my heart, and I got through his education - soon a brighter
residence. I was now comparatively happy, because I could forget, yes, I seemed to
to be able to forgive. It was the same Akab that brought you here, the faithful, warmhearted
Akab, who helped me then, as he had done many times since. He put me in a good
school, where I learned much that I did not have a clue about. Only now I noticed
how immature I was, and I worked restlessly on getting knowledge and to strengthen
my spiritual muscles.

    -Did you see your son during this period?
    No, neither him or you. You were both gone - I know not where. It was well
sense that I would try to forget - for a while at least.
    -you have not seen him since?
    -Well, wait a minute, I'll be at that passage in my life.
    -Go ahead, I pray. Your words move me so that I'm sitting in the greatest excitement. Was it long before you went down to the earth again?

    I do not know with certainty how long, but I would think that after earthly reckoning
took a few hundred years. Finally, I was taken by the earth longing, and I went down with the
beautiful intentions to become good and still. Alas, what's intentions! - Bubbles; which burst at first contact with reality. They need to be cured in the fire of trial, only then do they grow into in nature and become one with our being.

    Do you remember anything from your next earthly life?
    That was when I was Gertrude. I was born in favorable economic conditions. Long the
only child of the rich and powerful mayor, I was a spoiled kid, who was
accustomed to having my every wish fulfilled. I wretch - bad, I wore the ordeal that
be rich. Was it a latent memory of everything I had in the previous life forsaken, that I then - however, once received sipping on abundance, now gripped me - so that I passionately devoted myself the worship of gold? Or was this evil seed in the ground of my being and which now demanded to grow and then show its nothingness? I know not, but know I got my fill of “fun-measure”, and that it drew me to ruin.
    I looked for the one that could increase my wealth, and I found you, the rich heir,
who was also so weak-willed that I could wrap you around my finger. One thing annoyed me: I had a brother who would divide the inheritance with me. For this reason, he was me a thorn
eye, but on the other hand I had, as long as he was a child, an almost motherly feeling
affection for him. Was it because I was so much older than he, and in fact must
take care of him when our mother died, as then she gave him life? Or was it
occult memories that unconsciously made itself felt: because Carl-göran was - I have now received to know - none other than my Angelo from the gipsy-time. He had sought me up, to be for help and support of me , but how was his love given back?!
    - Where Carl-göran our son? How strange! Then I begin to understand ...
    - What do you mean?

    - ....why I felt so drawn to him, but also why I always had a certain
sense of responsibility towards him, not just a sense of guilt for the crime I committed when I
sent him out to the probable destruction, without a sense of deeper nature. Do you know where he since has gone?
    - Wait, we meet him again soon. Our life together - as I, myself ruled by so
many evil passions; also drew you into perdition, I can ignore here, as we both know it
too well. There I brewed myself a bitter drink, which I then had to empty later. You know
how I finally fell so deeply that I killed my father and stole his gold, then on
myself getting rage in unbridled freedom.

    For a time, I was in a foreign country as a celebrated beauty, the widow of a great and esteemed Businessman - it was the stamp, under/in which I appeared. But the road went downhill from fall and decline. You saw for yourself what misery I sunk into, when you came and got me.
    Yes, poor Gertrude, it was terrible what you must have suffered.
    -What was it- compared to what I then had to endure in mountain hole, in solitude with myself. But it was needed these torments of hell to bend a stiff neck - so that of mine.
    -But then you were up here after all - so good and so humble, I said.
    How could I then - in my next life backslide as I did, you mean. Yes, you may well
wonder. This  have been for myself a mystery, but it's enough so that intentions are not adequate, they are to be examined down there in the matter, where the memory of all the past is wiped out, which for each time so to speak, may start anew, where the evil capabilities, while they have a soil to germinate in, and where they also grow so that you can get a hold of them and uproot them with the root. That's how the good soil is finally prepared, which giveth food to the influence that comes from above.
    This time I went down with the best intentions, how I kept them  you self know.
Longing for Freedom and adventures, sat me even so the blood - that I could not possibly be the still and mortify creature that fitted as  the wife of a humble farmer on a small
farm. The so-called artistic life with a gipsylike theater troupe was probably more in my
taste, it had something of the life of free gipsys, - with its frivolous flair about them, and it had yet been so deeply rooted in me that I felt at home  just there. Therefore, I rejected your first marriage proposal, but when you came back, and I saw therein a promise that your feeling was strong enough to carry me into other adventures; then I followed you, I though did not have any warmer feeling for you. I also believe that there were higher powers in action – so that we would now be combined to obtain an opportunity to help each other out of the net of bad effects - that we messed ourselves into by
previous actions.

 When I was Gertrude however, I feel we had made it wiser not to be bound to each other. Then we made each other much hurt, I with my possessiveness, you with
your softness, both with our thoughts of winning. Then we were not yet ready to solve the difficult task we had together. Higher powers had probably intended it so you would have genuine Gerda and I had to stand within range of your influence. How different could not then all have taken shape. Imagine what a wife you would have had in her, how you would have grown at her side. But now it went as it went. We both got a hard-won experience.
    Another thing was that in our past/last life on earth, then, we were both slightly better equipped for a solution of the conflict, in which we committed ourselves to each other, and thanks to your patience and        Your kind heart became too loose.
    -Why do you think the higher powers wanted our union more this time than the time before?
    -In this, I have a very specific reason to belive, as then they let her, - she you really
belongs to; be born as your sister.
    -Was Mary ...?
    Yes, Mary was Gerda, your good angel, who always fell your needs.
    -Wonderful how the destiny's treads, are twisted together!
    -Yes, you may well say so. There seems to be a law, that those who have to do with each other, sooner or later is pulled/attracted together down there on the physical plane.

    We were also not the only old acquaintances who recently met. You asked for
Carl-göran, he came as Axel to you to spread a little sunshine over your life. Also to me, he showed kindness that I certainly did not make me deserve, but its extent
helped to tame my mind and melt my hardness. He is so good, and once I will
probably be in a position to re-apply all the good he has done to me – and give vent to the tenderness I still have added to my way of being - on his behalf.
    But those who find it difficult to forgive me, it's the father I robbed and murdered. Although he stood not far from us during our last earthly life. He was your uncle.

    Really? It came over me like a little while you sat here and talked. Yes, it was
the lot of the old mayor's rigid and barren being, who came back with my
uncle. The only he showed any real affection, was Mary, yes even Axel, his son
from ancient times. Thee he had trouble to like. Was also this an expression of an unconscious occult memory?
     -Why not, I find it quite natural.
    -Have you met him, as he came over here?
- I met him and did what I could to deal kindly with him, but he recognized me and was still very harsh to me. But it will probably also be our time - to make up our dealings. When Mary got her holidays, I hope to first win her heart. She was very reluctant to me, which I will not blame her for, but she has a heart of gold and is easily reconciled. Then I thought that she
and I together will help uncle. He's probably not having it really good yet.

    It's highly interesting details from our past lives – you here rolled up. What
thereby fills me with the greatest admiration, is the accuracy with which the "higher
powers ", as you call them - I would say God - leads all of our destinies, so that we get
the opportunity to develop - not only ourselves, but also to repair what we have broken onto the others, and to some extent contribute to their development.

    -Do you have more to tell me about the past?
    -Only that we, in our last life, met another old creditors, the coachman Lars. He
belonged to the crew that went under with Wotan. It was probably an unconscious sense of
guilt that drove me so warmly 'put me out' for him, when your patience was over. And that
you have fulfilled my desires, you have not regretted. He became - finally - a decent man
and; since he came over here, have had it relatively good. So we get enough time to make good to all – against whom we have done wrong.
    Now only remains for me - to at this end - where I began, to thank you for being a good friend, to open for me when I came back wrecked and wretched. Had you then shut your door
for me, as indeed was so close at hand, and as many claimed - so I had got
a hateful heart and a crushed brain, gone from that life to end up in a dark and yet
harder place than what was Gertrude's lot. But now you did not push her away, but healed her wounds. While I was struggling in my mind the most violent battles with my own
I am proud, I was at the outer repulsive and cold - I could not otherwise. But you were
always good and durable and it finally melted the ice about my heart, so that I, before I
life left, got power over me to thank you and ask you to forgive. Therefore it became my
entry into our world, this time a sweetness that I can not describe. Much remains to
me to go through, I understand, but I have found peace with myself, and it's a good
foundation to build on.
    Now do you understand of what infinite importance you been for my development?
    She took both my hands and pressed them warmly, while those beautiful eyes were filled
with tears.
    -Also you have for me been a help to my development, I said. What had become of my
weak and effeminate nature; everything just passed me well? No, it's the trials and battles
that hardens our will and put steel in nature. I thank you for everything and especially for
this unforgettable moment of reckoning with the past.
    Yes, now we have suffered ourselves free from the ties varuti our passions ensnared us together, and in
exchange found each other as faithful friends. She pressed once again my hand with a
warmth of heart that I will never forget.
    After a moment of silence, she said with a tender smile:
    -Now we have together ransacked the past. Are you also curious to look into
future?
    Do you know something about it?
    I can not say I know anything, but I just wanted to tell you that Akab promised a
procure of favor for me as I have asked him about.
    And of what is it composed?
    -that I -  the next time we go down in the world of matter, may be your mother.

    Here ends my story with the child's gratitude to the Father for his
loving, unfailing guidance through the mists of error, up to all our bright,
lovely home.
    
    
    
    
         
    
    
    Part I I I
    
  Fanatics and martyr
   Memories of two terrestrial lives
   
   
   Introduction
    
    Religious fanaticism is one of the worst scourges that has ever scourged
humanity. How much blood has not flowed, how many atrocities are not committed
under the fanatical cover: "God wills it!" People's hardness and malice against
each has taken many forms, but nothing has been so refined in their cruelty as that,
which was conducted in the name of religion, and nothing has even attracted so much suffering and misery of its practitioners.
    I speak from experience, for I myself have been guilty of the worst crimes under
pretext that I thus served a holy thing, and I have been through terrible sufferings, but
finally freed me from the shackles with which I thus burdened my soul.
    Could there be someone to help in his eternity walking, a lesson to see how their
inevitable effects sneaks into deeds tracks, but also how these effects are likely
to bring up the fallen, to cleanse the taint, to care the wounded, and I will here in
broad views tell of  my crimes in one of my earthly life and my sufferings in the following.

I want         try to make it as objective as possible, like standing outside myself, and I hope
then I now in fact can put all this away, which burdened and haunted me for more than
300 years!

    My heart thanks, my spirits worship of the One great comforter in all tribulation, The Father everywhere – whatever the father is called: thanks for all that (has) happened to me, and that made it possible for me to reach here – where I now stand  and so that I can tell you.
    
    
  I
    I lived in a time when passions/pain, ran high waves in the minds of men.
The Reformation had, during fire- and baptism of blood, broken road right through the walls
with which an all-powerful church known to surround and cripple people's divine
privilege, freedom of thought, but the church took revenge on its rebellious children. In or by prison, sword and body the church searched stifle heresy, as through this his martyrdom only got so much more force to grow strong. It was the same truth cloister on Earth

echoed all times; when a new and cleaner outlook wanted to break through.

    I was in this battle on the dark side. I was a papist, a raw, ruthless papist, who
shunned not any funds when it came to combat heresy. And yet I was neither priest
or monk, I was a senior official in one of southern Germany's major cities. Closer
I will not enter my place in the world. My Christian name was Bernhard - it may be enough.

    From childhood, I had learned revere the church. She was to me the epitome - non
only of all that is holy, but also of all power in heaven and earth, and this view was
the ominous hint for my whole life - cover for all my crimes.
    My father was a strict master, who often chastised me harder than I deserved, which in my
young mind founded a bitterness and hardness, which I then found it very difficult to
overcome. My mother was a good and pious woman, but so cowed by her husband's despotic
temper that her influence over me was not of any importance. She also died
while I was still quite young. I got my education first in a convent school and then at
University of Heidelberg, where I mainly studied theology and law. Such prepared
I went out in life.

    As I was a so-called high birth, I was soon a favorable employment and
advanced briskly. I was a relatively young man when I felt the sweetness of my hand
keep a not inconsiderable power. The despot in me, which to date has been fixed, now became free and pulled me away from indifference to hardness, the hardness of a crime.

    I had a childhood friend, the blue-eyed, light-haired Louis, in so many respects, my
complete opposite. Personally, I had brown eyes and black hair, but the disparity was not only
an exterior. Louis was a nice nature; introspective and dreamy, he was kind-hearted, but also
strong willed. We had grown up together and even been comrades at the university. Then
He took a modest job as a printer of a genteel magnate. Despite the disparity in our
characters I felt very drawn to Louis, and certainly, that he for a time exerted a very good influence on me.

    But then came the break between us. He still lived in his parents' home, where I was often
a gladly seen guest. Louis' mother cherished me with an almost maternal tenderness. A Day
I met in this home a distant relative of Louis, the fair Elsa. Never shall I forget the brilliant eyes and the weak smile when she first came out, while she opened the gate for me.
    - You are looking for Louis? she said. He is in his room, if you please will enter.
    I greeted courteously and mumbled something that she guessed right, but I was so busy sensing the beautiful revelation she was, that I had preferred not going ahead, and just stayed where I stood.

    We from then on met frequently. She treated me with her effortless transparency, which is a
distinguishing feature of purity of heart, and I was drawn by an irresistible force to
her presence. I think Louis more than Elsa saw the emotions that had been woken in the middle of my  breast and this tormented him, for he was silent and gloomy; often went away from us without saying a word and showed me on the whole, not the former friendly familiarity.

Finally, it came to an understanding between us. I told him how deeply attached I was to Elsa
and asked him how he thought she would respond to my request for her hand.
- It may she herself tell thee, was his short answer: and so he rushed out of the room.

    Oh, it is so, I thought, well, let her talk, and I doubted not a
moment, that she would prefer me, a nobleman, already reached high in a social position,
especially  compared to the insignificant writer. But I was mistaken, I got a short and firm
rejection of my proposal. Some time later, I heard that she and Louis were betrothed.
    Now grabbed me jealousy demon, and the love I harbored hatred changed. All my thoughts focused now on the only desire to take revenge on both of them for the affront I felt
I have suffered. Opportunity presented itself to that too after some time.
    Late one night, when I went home alone from a party collection, I thought I heard singing from a remotely located house in the garden. I stopped and listened. What could it be?
The  main gate was locked, but from a back alley on the other side of the block, I managed
to prepare me access through a back gate which stood open. I crept up to the house and
put my ear against the wall. Sure enough, my suspicions were confirmed, it was the singing of hymns, there were heretics who held church services. All the shutters were bolted so that I could not see in, but by the chorus, which, however, apparently was very subdued, I could understand that much people were gathered in the small room. The heretic persecutions was now as an epidemic across the country, and nothing was to the church and the  ruling princely more pleasures, than a statement against those who held secret Lutheran worship services; for such was the most severe punishments prohibited. I decided to stay some time, to discover who they were that such defied religious and secular commandments.
    The singing stopped, and I heard a voice speaking in preachy tone. I thought I
recognize that voice. Was it possible - could it really be Louis? I crept
closer to that part of the house where I thought the voice came. Here hung the shutters on
Only one catch, it was easy with a gentle hand tobring it a little to the side. The small windows boxes, however, was on the inside and so covered with 'fog' that I could not make out anything. However, I heard now much better.

    No doubt anymore, it was he who spoke. I captured clearly these words: "- the
papal Antichrist hath taken us of the holy scripture, which would teach us to love God
and love of the brethren, therefore also evil was now spreading and becoming a
abomination to God and love to the brothers.  therefore also evil was spreading and becoming a abomination to God and people. But we, my brothers and sisters; want to read this word and
edify us peer with its gospel, it is our right as human beings even if the church and the law forbids it. "
    I had heard enough. With quick steps I walked away and hurried to the city
Guard, which I by virtue of my office had the right to command. I took with me all
Guards and surrounded the house. Then I commanded the leader and some one to go in, or
reak in if they did not want to open, and arrest the accused. I myself kept hidden
at some distance.
    After a short scuffle, they came out with their prisoner. But at his side clung to a
woman as they tried in vain to separate from him. I heard how she begged and implored the
soldiers to release him or to take also she, but they yanked her by force from
him and pushed her away.
    It like cut my heart - this plaintive voice that I once had so dear, and for a
moment I was seized with the idea that running back and free them. But the next moment
I hardened my heart and let the raw soldiers keep them.
    Early the next morning my valet reported that a young lady wished to speak to
me. It was Elsa. She had no idea that it was me who overthrew them into the accident, and
I pretended an utter ignorance of what has passed.
    She asked me so persuasive that I would put myself out for Louis, because, she said, and
therein she was right, a word from me would be enough to save him.
I feigned for her, a friendship for Louis, who I no longer entertained, but said that to
my duty as an officer forbade me to seek justice halt when his crime was so palpable - he had been arrested in the act.
    With the beautiful head deeply bowed, she went away from me without saying goodbye. It broke out a storm in my mind, that I could not subdue. I rushed out after her and asked
her to come back. She looked at me with big wondering eyes and followed me silently into
room. I threw myself at her feet and stretched her arms towards her.
    - Elsa, I exclaimed, be mine and I'm saving Louis!
    She looked for a moment at me with a look that went from pity to contempt.
    - Never! she said with firmness and walked with dignified posture out of the room.
    I raged, I stomped on the floor. How had I not humiliated me in front of her, and
she just stepped on me! Revenge! Revenge! cried within me.
    I called the judge who would hear the case, and made him swear an oath not to incorporate my personal in what I had to communicate. I told how everything went and quoted the words I heard Louis say. These would be well enough to convict him, I thought.
    Of course, replied the lawyer with an ingratiating smile, but if your grace not
himself would testify, there is after all no witnesses who heard him say these words.
    -Try, and I think he stands by his words without witnesses.
  - .. can be? Yes heretics are a strange breed, they are not like other people. He
bowed low and left.

    The court met in the Town Hall. I was present and heard it all, but sat behind a curtain so no one saw me.
    It went as I expected. Initially behaved Louis to court calm and reserved.
    For what are you accusing me? he asked the judge.
    You've kept the Lutheran church service, you have misled people, you have blasphemed the Church head, His Holiness himself.
    Who testify against me?
    -Your own words. You have said that the papal Antichrist has failed you the holy
word of the Bible, but that you would read it in spite of the church and the law's prohibitions.
    Now he turned pale.
    Who said that? he asked in a trembling voice.
    I ask you: Have you uttered these words?
    He stood for a moment quite still, then the answer came quietly and firmly.
    - I refuse not to my words and I am ready to repeat them, but who says you
this ...? For some traitors within our little circle – it is not.
    - That's not the point. When blasphemes must be prepared that the walls have ears.
    The judgment read in five years' imprisonment, with the right of the prisoner to be free in the same while he renounced his faith. For the enforcement of the judgment – it was handed over the convicted to the Holy Inquisition, which took him to repent his heretical fallacies. What this mattered knew everyone. It was torture chamber horrors that awaited him. Louis
took his brow, staggered a few steps backwards and sank down on a bench. Elsa, which
from a corner of the crowded courtroom filled listened to the interview, gave a piercing shriek; made her way up to Louis and clasped him in her arms. A moment later, she traveled
herself, stretched hands towards the judge and said in a firm voice:
    - This unjust judgment will come upon you, and the one who flagged us. But I  say to you judge: Have you judged him, so shall you judge me, for I am the one having led him to this faith for which you judged him. I'm his legally wed, and I have the right to share prison sufferings with him.

    - Remove the woman, she's mad, 'said the judge.
    
    I can not take anymore of these hideous memories. Still now after more than 300 years, and although I suffered myself free from the links I then hammered me,  these reminiscences still is hunting my soul so I find it difficult to continue. I would not do it if it were not necessary to understand the context of what has since went out over myself. But I want to be
short.

    Louis, who had an equally fragile body as his soul was strong, died of neglect and
Torture. Elsa was completely broken. She wasted away and died a year after Louis. His mother; who had always been so sore - she bec  ame confused by grief.

    And all of this was my doing, I'm the miserable! I either did not have any calm time after this - no quiet moment. As soon as I was alone whipped me conscience. In the daytime I muted the internal cast with intensive work and boisterous fun, the nights stunned myself with liquor and opium.
    But one sin pulling the other with. I had begun to persecute heretics, and the
was like an irresistible force had pushed me to continue on this path. I
captured one victim after another, and let them go the way of Louis. It was
as I imagined that my debt to him became less the several who shared his
fate.
    So I went from crime to crime, all emotional looser and harder - the longer the time went, but my reputation grew. I called the church's obedient son and the throne's support. Everyone looked up to me, but also all trembled for me. Life had become for me the hard struggle against the internal voice. Whatever I did, I did in blindness, then I still increased my debt to
not to hear its voice.

    The life I brought undermined my health, and I was not yet 50 years when I was at
the sick-bed from which I might not get up. With dismay I looked forward to death.
Well, I tried to lull me in the hope that everything would end with this life, but it
did not succeed; my theological studies had struck such deep roots that I could not
get away from the idea of an eternal life. I then sought to convince myself that I would naturally inherit bliss crown. Of course - as I had spent so many heretics of life, I who have beenChurch's strong support - who would probably otherwise have it. But the idea was never to any certainty. I lay there pondering my future destiny of uncertainty with
scary weight on me, and conscience' nagging pain in my soul, all under the
the physical torments not left me in peace. For me hell already began on Earth -
fortunately, I can say, for thereby was broken the worst sting out of the sufferings that awaited me on the other side.
    A small episode from my last days, I would mention. I was never married, but lived a life of the recluse or loner, that also in its way contributed to darken my sad existence. An old
creaky housekeeper and a stupid, filthy monk who would be a little skilled in medicine, took turns that vigil at my bedside, but it happened not infrequently that both were gone, and I got to be alone for long periods.
    On one such occasion came once completely unaware, an old gray-haired old woman into
me. The doors had been open, and she had just risen in. She stopped at the threshold and
looked wonderingly around. Then she went straight to my bed and stared at the silly
me.
    - I go and search my Louis ... is it you? They have said that he would be here ...
He had such beautiful blond curls and blue eyes ... but you're black, you ... you're not my
Louis. But tell me where you have made of him ... Is it you who have been hiding him?
    She began to look everywhere in the room. I was in the worst torture.
    - Mother Annika, I said finally, do not you recognize me?
    - No, you're so black, you know I do not ... Louis was light, he ... Poor mother Annika,
that no more will see her boy.
    She sat down in a chair by the bed and cradled her head.
    - Look at me right. I'm Bernhard. Do you not recognize me?
    - Bernhard? Bernhard ... who is it? So called a boy Louis was so fond of ...
is it you?
    - Yes, it's me.
    - Now you're lying. Bernhard was a fine boy, but you look so mean out ... He went away
and I do not know where he went ... Elsa said it was Bernard who betrayed Louis, that
I think not, it is not possible ... or what do you think?
    I was in the most dreadful anxiety. Irresistibly I stretched both arms toward her.
    - Yes, mother Annika, for you, I confess it. It was I, Bernhard, who indicated
Louis. He was a heretic.
    - Holy Mother of God! Then it's you that has taken him from me. Woe to you! she screamed and rushed towards me. Give me back my Louis or I'll strangle you.
    She might also have, if not in the same monk came back and forcibly brought her out of the room.
    I was deeply shaken, and the strong emotion gave my illness a crucial
turnaround. A few days later, I died.
    Strange as it may seem, this little event was of great importance to me. Only
the fact that I am in a moment of horror, perhaps more than the actual
repentance could confess to Louis' mother that it was me who reported him, if I
same breath was ready to excuse myself by saying that he was a heretic, made it easier for
me since my extreme distress on the other side to confess all my crimes. The ice shell about
my heart had gotten a first small break - that was the meaning of this strange visit,        I now bless.
    Providence means for the salvation of a soul, is marvelous.

II
    
    
    I want to try to describe in more detail the course of my death.
    An icy chill gripped me. It started in my feet and step slowly up the legs. Meanwhile
 my sight was darkened, so that I only indistinctly perceived objects around me. I understood
now that death came, the long feared resolution. A dreadful anguish shook my inner being. The physical pains I have so long suffered under numb eventually removed, but in
instead accelerated my psychic pain in a terrible degree. Now darkness fell upon my eyes, I
saw nothing but was still conscious and felt icy cold slowly rise up against
chest. I wanted to shout for help, but did not make a sound, I wanted to turn my arms against
something terrible that I thought I perceived right next to me, but my whole body was
which paralyzed. During all this worked in me something that I thought would tear
me, and though it was not associated with any severe physical pain. Then I remembered
nothing. I fell into a trance. Obstetric – transition -  work was finished.
    
    When I woke again it was my first sensation that I froze - I was so cold that I
shook. it was also dark about me, I saw nothing. Yet I knew not that I
was dead, but thought my keeper failed me so that they neither lighted candles or put fire
in the fireplace. They also must have moved me and deprived me of my clothes. I was lying there almost naked, had only a few thin, ragged rags on me.
    I got angry and shouted first at the monk, then my housekeeper - now I had
however, regained the power of speech - but no one came.
    I groped in the darkness for my alarm clock, it was not there. What did it mean? Where
had they brought me, and why had they left me alone? I called yet again
but received no answer.

    Then I tried to get up and noticed to my surprise that I was indeed very tired but still I could turn and put me up without help and without plagues, which I had not for a long time managed. I felt, however, terribly helpless and happened to be in real fury of the people; that however, was so good paid for caring me, - they had left me in this way without saying a word.
    I began to feel and sense a little about me to find me the way, right. The darkness, as I first
found so impenetrable, began gradually to be dispelled by a weird half-light, so that I
could distinguish the nearest objects. It was a terrible predicament I found myself in. I
laid at a bare stone slab, which also was moist and tacky - it was not strange that I froze?
What could this mean? If they had thrown me in jail - and in which prison? Such
vile lair had not even the Inquisition at their disposal.
    When I am weary without getting different answer than the echo of my own voice, which
bounced back from - as it seemed - deep shafts inside the mountain, I threw myself in despair
down upon my wretched camp and began to cry. For a long time I lay and sobbed so without a clue where I was. Then I suddenly heard a laugh near to me. I lifted my head and
saw a monk dressed in a hood with a hood over his head and rope around waist. I could not
really make out his features, but I saw he grinned at me.
    - hey! he said. So you've come now. It was not too early, we have long been waiting for you. You've been clever to have sent many heretics to hell, and now you come
looking to see if you had them in good custody. Hi!
    Here he uttered a scornful laugh that cut me to the bone.
    - Who are you? I asked.
    - At your service, mighty lord, he scoffed.
    And where have you brought me?
    - to the palace that you – yourself-constructed.

   -Stop your scorn, punk, and tell me how to get out of this hole?
    -If Your high grace pleases to take my arm -  and we will wander together for a while in
these cool colonnades; where art and natural compound made everything for our convenience. Here is good for us to be. Who is going to come out?
    - Shut your rascal, and go your way! I shouted in anger.
    - GOOD HEAVENS! Am I a burden I will immediately disappear. I thought your highness just shouted for help, and as I am a good-natured soul, I wanted to hear what was wrong, but not that I want to be troublesome.
    He stretched his hands over me. Pax vobiscum! he said with a sardonic voice, struck
a belly laugh and disappeared.
    Horrible! I collapsed completely annihilated. Would this be my lot for all the
services I have done the church, to be impotent a damp cellar and become förhånad of a
miserable monk? No, I need to get myself clear and certainty about what this fun game had a meaning; because it could not be anything other than a fun game - was obvious.
    I got up with no effort and started feeling my way obscurity, but even slipped
on the slippery rocks, yet I bumped against the rock wall, but finding no way out.
Heartbroken, I sank down on his knees.
    -Holy Mother of God! I asked. Help your little servant from this undeserved suffering!
    Then I felt a warm hand take on my wrist and heard a voice whisper:
    - Bernhard! Do not say it's undeserved. You suffer from what your hands are worth. All your life has been a blasphemy against God.
    I looked around but could not find anyone, and yet I felt that permanent
grip on my wrist. What was this, it is also haunted in this horror resident?
    - Who are you invisible? I asked, not without a secret trepidation.
    - I'm the one who has been set to watch over you, who have followed you throughout your life and cried over your many missteps, and who brought you through the gate of death to the abode you have made for yourself.
    - Death's door, you say, am I dead?
    - Yes, you've left your worn tabernacle on earth and are now in the spirit
kingdom.
    - I do not understand it. I have a body like before. Everything here is the same as material
who on earth. I'm actually standing on solid rock.
    - The spirit world has its matter like the earth has its. This one is as real as the
other. Leaving of a body, but has another not less suitable for this world's conditions.
    - Would I really be dead? Now I remember that I was lying and felt death coming,
but I went to sleep in and woke up here. Curiously! Am I therefore now in purgatory?
I must confess that I expected it hotter.

    My friend dropped his hold. I got no answer.
    Once I was alone with myself. I had so much to think about ... So this
was the world that lay on the other side of death. Had all those here so terrible or why did it
hit me? It was a flagrant injustice that I, who have lived such a holy life in
burning zeal for the church, I who had given so much to the monastery, which I forwarded to
many heretics to just punishment, that just I would get it this horribly. How had God been
acting so against me - or - there was no God? Chaotic thoughts tumbled about in my
head.
    Then I heard a voice, it sounded like an Ave. Groping my way, I managed to get out
in a long corridor which was dimly lit. Now, the song was heard more clearly, and I went in the direction from which the sound seemed to come. With faltering steps, I walked forward until I came to a great extension – hall- inside the mountain. Here was a whole crowd of people gathered, most monks and nuns. I stopped and listened. It was truly an "Ave Maria" they sang, but it jarred in false chord. I asked a monk who were close to me:
    - What's all this mean or say? And where are we?
    - If you are a novice, you poor thing, that does not know we are in the catacombs. But keep your mouth for now begins the service.
    At an altar stood a priest with crucifix in hand and ranted long Latin prayers. I
thought I recognized him. Yes, it did not hit wrong, it was Father Ambrose, who died a few
years before me. He had belonged to the Jesuit order and was a fanatical persecutor of heretics. We had often met and many times put plans together, how we were going to fight
delusion, but even I thought he sometimes traveled back with too much cruelty.
I pushed myself closer to hear what he said.
    He spoke of the persecution the faithful must now endure, and which forced them to
seek refuge in the mountain caverns, but the time would come when the heretics would have their correct salary, then they would be roasted in hell fire. Then would vengeance hour come, and then would panacea Church's faithful followers triumph, they would be involved in bringing fuel to the flames, they would sing and dance around the fire of hell, and then they would inherit the glory of heaven.

    Here the speaker was interrupted by someone who clapped and shouted "viva Ambrosius!"
and so they made a circle and danced around him in the wild shouts and terrible gestures.

 Against my will, I was dragged along until I sank down to fatigue.

    This was too strong for me. With the most frightful disgust, I turned away from this
hellish fun and groped me back to my cell.
    Was this the continuation of what is on earth called a holy life? All these monks
and nuns; which admittedly - it was generally known - lived in carnal pleasures but
however dragged out devotional and penances; their lives were not worth more than that they would stop in such misery? And I myself: would the end of my brilliant career be to rank in
such a rabble? It went around in my head. I mused as I was going crazy over what the fault was. That it was within my own inside/ breast, had not yet dawned on me.

    But the time would come when even my stiff knees had to bend. It was through the
permanent solitude of my own sick conscience, a self-mortification, which can not in words be described, and perhaps even through the excruciating touch with the humanity of of-
foam, misery-folk,  as such they had domicile and 'well-being', as my better person eventually came the dominion within me. Quick did it not happen, but it was still under constant struggles between my pride as insistent demanded redress for the unjust treatment I
was subject to, and my inmost self, as with a stronger and stronger voice cried:
Kneeling scoundrel miscreant!

    In those moments when my better self had the  power, I would often get a visit of my good
guardian spirit, who with infinite patience searched soften my heart to a fully
recognition of my debt. But then arose the pride and began to assert their right: I was
no worse than others I have, I was brought up in the belief that what I did was a divine
works. Then it was not my fault but theirs, who taught me so. If the church learned the errors of wronglearning, it so belonged to this church and not us that never had been taught better. O, what I was 'chewing' on this theme again and again in all sorts of variations! But as soon as I began thus, I lost my good guardian spirit. At first I sought to interpret this as
if he were stumped against my strong arguments and therefore that it was I who had
right, but later I felt enough that I just chased him away with my bickering.

    Now I had come so far that I could see him. He was so beautiful: it shone
much goodness from the mild blue eyes, mouth expressed so much firmness but was at the
same time so gentle. His hands were so nice, and whenever he stroked my
crown of the head, it went out a wonderful heat from him. And it was so light, I can say that
it came and assumed light from him. For when he came, it was almost full daylight in my den.

    Those -  his visit, which initially was me a real nuisance, became for me eventually precious. The rebellion within calmed when he came, and I got a taste of the peace
after which I unconsciously sighed. It finally went so far that I longed for him and
gave up my worn-out self-defense – not to drive him away. But yet
I was not finished with me.
    
    After many years of unspeakable suffering, I however eventually moved to another
residence, where I was exempt from the visit of the loathsome shapes that hitherto had been my only company. It was a wretched hut certainly, but it was below the open sky. Cold was
it even here and no sun shone over the gloomy, monotonous landscape, but it was
however, a relief to be free from my terrible dungeon of this semi derelict dwelling.
    It took me a long time here – as a real hermit with no other occupation than the
poignant study of my earthly life. I tried enough to beat away all recollections of the
past, but they came back, I could not get rid of them. Day after day, year after year of my
earthly life, I got this scrutinize and ponder. Memories surfaced, which made hairs stand up
on my head. Everywhere grinned at me my own bad self, which for its low aims sacrificed
others' happiness, well being and life. It was awful paintings unrolled before my eyes, and
alone, I sat there and stared at me and my bad old doings and habbits. It is horrible sufferings which humans through its (old/animalistic talents-) - evil can prepare for him/her-self!

    It was not far from my hut a small village, where loners such as I settled
down to help each other to cultivate the surrounding wilderness. That was my only
diversion to attend their work, but also there haunted me my nagging torment. When I
went there with a shovel in hand and dug into the barren earth, it was as if I dug up
the bleak memories of my earthly life. A stone which squeaked against the shovel became a
skull, and as I stared at it for a while, I recognized one of my victims. When a small
water vein trickled its way into my spade furrow, I thought it as blood. I now know that this was just my own conscience – and sick imagination, but imagination plays in the world of spirits a role as you mortals can not imagine, it actually creates images so evident that he/she who has not especially studied these conditions, take them for real.

    I was tired of my work, I was tired of suffering, I was myself an unbearable burden.

 
    One time when I was sitting outside my hut and gazed wistfully out across the desolate
moor in front of me I saw a human being with the quick step approach. There was a woman;
she ruled evidently her course straight for me. Who could it be? Pedestrians in this region was extremely rare, and the few that went past, was dark or gray as myself, but this was
light, almost as bright as my guardian spirit. She was now quite close, but had a veil over
face, so that I could not make out her features.
    - Peace be with you, 'she said, as she stopped in front of me.
    - For me, there is no peace, 'I replied.
    - Peace is for every spirit, only he can catch it. God's love is greater than
human evil, it is also stronger, and no one can in the long struggle with this
love without being defeated.
    - Maybe you're right, and I would have nothing against being defeated, but ... but it
is something within me that rise up against such a submission. I think that I have become
unfairly treated by fate. If I also sometimes have been mistaken by the means, it have been my goal, however, always to be good - as far as I understood it - to support the church I belonged to and that I received the teaching from - to look up to as the only salvation.
    - You see now, however, what bliss that church (of that primitive time...) has prepared you to pay, for the help you devoted it. Learn from this, that the church itself, as well as your faith in it - was a delusion. But answer me one question, Bernhard: Was it only the church's best, you thought of and aimed, with all your acts of violence?
    - You call me by name, how do you know me? And who are you? Tell me your name,
Before I answer your question.
    The stranger lifted the veil and saw me with a piercing yet gentle gaze in the eyes.
    - Holy Mother of God! I cried, it's you!
    - Yes, I am Elsa, who you once were in love with, but also prepared the most terrible sufferings.
Do you understand what it means to be deprived of the one you love and know him to be incarcerated and exposed inquisition torture, without even sharing his qualification?
    - Grace, grace! I moaned, in that I fell on my knees at her feet.
    - Answer me now to my question, Bernhard, did you do this just for the sake of the Church?
    - Forgive me, forgive! It was out of jealousy I did it - out of wounded pride. It was my evil feelings in heart that ruled me. I was a villain - that was what I was - though I
blamed the church. Elsa! Will you ever forgive me?
    - Step Bernhard, I have long since forgiven you. It's not me who needs to be
placated ...
    - No, Louis, my former friend Louis. How will I ever dare to look him in the
eyes? Woe is me! He could never forgive myself, I understand.

    - Though he harbors no grudge against you. He is ready to open his arms to you, only you
come to peace with yourself. No Bernhard, it is God's Holy Spirit in your own innermost
the spark of yourself- that he once planted in your being, you have hurt by the (bad-) blood. It is with this - your own inner spirit - that you have to be reconciled. It is ahead of yourself -that you of fervent and sincere repentance - must make the confession, that you just did in terror, here in front of me.

    - I understand you Elsa, and I have in fact long understood that it is the way I have to walk, though my knees were too stiff to bend. But now I'm done up with me - myself: it serves no longer seeking to resist the voice that loudly crying within me. I have sinned against God's holy law in my conscience, as also from the start accusing me
therefore; though I still muted its voice. I'm a big criminal. - Leave me now, I must be alone with myself.

    - God bless and strengthen you in the important battle where victory is already waving to you.

 
    She leaned down and kissed my forehead, then she leaved as silent as she arrived.
    
    What then followed is for others of comparatively little interest, though it for me was of the the greatest importance. I would therefore be brief.
    As I then have come to a sincere repentance and the resulting brokenness, it brightened
my life as if by magic. I had then the chance to move from my gloomy residence, into a beautiful region where initially Louis and Elsa took care of me and gave me a first teaching into much concerning my new life. Nothing has been better able to convince me of the
Love from the divine power -  than the tenderness with which these friends received me. These friends – that I so deeply and unfairly treated, so cruelly tormented.

    It was touching to see how Louis came towards me and gave me his hand. When I wanted to ask him for forgiveness, he interrupted me.
    - Dear friend; he said, do not talk further about it, it has already cost you more difficult
sufferings than to me, for mental agony is far more painful than the physical. And what I in the time then suffered, it has for me now become a joy that I can not describe. Now let us be friends, just as in days of old: when we were young and the happy life smiled at us.

    I asked about his mother; whom I have caused so much grief.
    - She's is fine now, replied Louis, but at first she had a hard time finding herself adapting here. Her dazed mind cleared not immediately, then she completed her
earthly tabernacle, because the disease sat deeper than only in the physical brain, but
by peaceful and appropriate treatment, she has now come to clarity and peace. My desire to
throw myself at her feet and ask her for forgiveness, however, he though declined.

      
    - I do not think it's appropriate that you meet with her yet, because she is
still very weak and will not stand by strong emotions, but when she becomes stronger, you
probably are just as welcome to her as to us.

    Louis and Elsa soon left me and returned to their home in a higher sphere, as they had now
just come to receive me in my new dwelling. It was with real sadness that I parted from these noble friends, who so lovingly met me and so great doing good for evil. My heartfelt
desire - I said it so - was henceforth to be in the opportunity to serve them, and thus in some way - again apply their goodness.
    - We will serve each other, it belongs to us all - as members of the large Brotherhood, said Louis, as he pressed my hand in farewell.
    
    As I stood there alone and looked after the departing friends – it came over me
a strong oppression. What would now be my lot? What would I do? Suddenly
my guardian spirit, the bright Dehli, stood in front of me. Where he came from and how he had traveled, I am not clear to me. I believe he just descended through space.

    - Now, my friend, he said, you have to follow me down to earth. There is no time to lose.
There is ongoing heavy fighting; as you helped to foment. It is now your duty to
do everything in your ability is to dampen the heat of battle and ward off evil the people are in the process of adding to each other and to themselves.
    - I'd like to be involved, as far as my powers capable; I said. Show me what I have to do.

    We were together, or rather, he almost carried me in his strong arms, and soon was we were at the goal. This same town where I went as a respected and feared man, the scene of my terrible atrocities.

   It was strange to see it all again, from my current position. All this physical world that I formerly considered as materially solid, seemed to me now quite unreal, then however, my own body seemed comparatively solid. So different, we see the phenomena from
different planes. Now I was walking freely through the thickest walls and could see into the
people's inside and read their most secret thoughts – as of an open book.

But that was not the strangest thing. I made a different experience that aroused my admiration. It was at that place a whole host of bright spirits gathered, all well disciplined and
organized as like almost a militarily corps under a high, enlightened leader, and in this troupe, I was incorporated as a man in the ranks.

    Our job was basically to support the idea of freedom struggle that was going on and that
called heresy. But we were not on our plane lonely men on the battlefield. The time made angry billows passions ran high, there were many occasions for the dark to sow hatred and split, to incite to violence and atrocities of all types. They appeared to be less organized. I do not think they had any leader, but they found more willing ears than we, and instigated therefore evil.

    It was their influence that we now had to counter, at the same time as we had to
instill courage and hope of the freedom of thought - persecuted martyrs. Each of us was taking the task, that was best suited for his forces and abilities.

    It fell to my lot to keep watch at a high prelate as with all power fueled
persecution of heretics. I was instructed that as often as I could, and especially when he slept,
searching to imagine him how wrong he did - and by my own history deter him
from continuing on the path he trod. But I was not alone in this watchkeeping;            
a dark spirit, which largely had his ear, turned seldom away from him.  It is strange
how powerless the good influences stands, unless that the person it regards - through its own free will and mood, is unleashing it. It was only in the moments when the prelate sometime hesitated what he should be doing, that I got the opportunity to whisper to him a word of caution.

When he slept, I had more influence over him. I was able to coax his spirit out
body and converse with him. And then he - as well as other criminals in their innermost
beings, were not as bad as his work suggested, I could then pull up his lighter sides.
I could get him to admit that he had the right to proceed with the ferocity that he
perpetrated, I could get him to repent, to whimper like a sick child and promise repentance;
but when he went back into his body again and woke up, he was again a slave to the
old conceptions which plowed so deep furrows in his mind: then it was again that the
dark watchman came to power.

    Between him - my opponent and me, it never came to any battle, though I probably
felt possess the power to expel him for now - it had not served anything, he
had soon come back with a whole crowd of dark helpers - but we watched each other with
mistrustful glances and never left an opportunity to make our influence applicable.
    I stayed for quite some time in this post but was unable to accomplish much. Then
I got to a somewhat lighter and more happy, but also a more painful task. I had to watch over any prisoners who languished in the Inquisition prison. Here was I alone on watch and could very well make myself heard. It was a joy to see how their faces brightened when I gave them the idea of the joy that awaited their faith strong spirits; when materialistic boundaries fallen off. With strong magnetic deletions could I moreover, not only help them to sleep, but also to some extent alleviate the pain torture inflicted on them. Oh, hell, these executioners; like in cold blood could witness the unfortunate plagues: and they were horrible to behold. It is terrible how deeply a person can decline in brutality and cruelty!
    One of 'my prisoners' died, and I had the pleasure of taking care of his spirit and bring
him up to his bright home. There was a cheer that was indescribable. The whole hosts of
bright spirits came to meet him, and escorted him with shouts of joy and victory chants.
Self he lay over the whole trip in my arms; still very weak, but with a beatific smile
on the lips. As we parted, he thanked me warmly for the little I have been able to help
Him. But I did not stay up there in the dazzling light sphere where he had his home;
I had not been there either, because the light was so intense that I literally suffered thereof in the short while I waited to deliver my burden. I turned back to my post on the earth
and stayed there as long the heretic persecutions happened.
    
    I now come to a very different stage of my free life. After the service on
earth, I returned to the sphere that was my real 'hometown'. I now needed to work on
my own development and, in particular, I needed to strengthen me for the new mortal life as I
knew awaited me, a life that would be very tough and heavy also, I could understand. It was
also with trepidation I thought of this future, but so far it was still very remote.

    Over a long period of years - it was well over a century after earthly time - I studied
at a major university in my realm. But now it was not theology and law, I took
in, it was especially civics and ethics, illuminated by examples from human
development history of the earth,  - extremely interesting studies - led by prominent
teachers. There did my already quite predicted schooled spirit, get a good education, which was then - in latently form - followed me down on my next earth-wandering, and become me very happiness and utility. It's amazing what we have much to learn, and how the requirements of knowledge' dimensions increasingly grows: in proportion, as we penetrate into the excavations of knowledge. The more we learn: the more we see our gaps in knowledge. But time is not so important, we've got all eternity to us.

    At the university I met two Russians, for which I took a lot of affection.
They were busily employed to study their country's social conditions and determined that the
timely opportunity to go down again to participate in the battle for the liberation of their people. Orel was really a chamber scholar, he had been a professor and little-studied in public acquisitions, but he had also studied thru the history of his country, become a hot advocate for Russia's freedom. Ivan had been in the military and had with disgust been compelled to participate in the subjugation of some unrest in Little Russia. Eventually I was also drawn into their minds and became interested in this people, who possessed so many possibilities, but in all respects were so paralyzed. Particularly I studied their religious sects; which curiously all emerged from the peasant class.

The enthusiasm with which these simple people; without any book learning,
could sacrifice and suffer persecution for one, in fact, insignificant deviation from the
Greek Catholic Church doctrine, even sometimes just from its ritual, meant something captivating, that drew me to them.

    Orel had a sister named Vera, who also studied at the same college, even
she is an avid enthusiast of the freedom struggle - we knew - would soon break out in Russia.

Sett inn bilde
She was a very likable woman with alert eyes of all social issues and a
compassionate heart for the suffering of her people must undergo. We often had long debates;
we four, the most appropriate way out to achieve a reform of the intolerable conditions.
Ivan felt that an open revolution - if so bloody - would be the only way out, and he
supported eagerly by Vera, while Orel and I however believe in a gradual and
comparatively peaceful development to a parliamentary form of government.
    At this time, it was during the last half of the 1800s, had already become the
Initial efforts of the Russian people to a dawning awareness of the humiliation
during which it lived. The crude and cruel Nicholas 1 had come to power, he swung
a stiff rod of iron over his poor people, and the resistance began, whether only in small,
single points: to raise their heads.

    Ivan and Vera immediately wanted to go down to have time to grow up until the battle would come, but the more reticent Orel asked them to wait, because the time was not yet ripe. Long they could however not be restrained. They went, and I decided to follow them. For this, my decisions contributed to no small extent, a more tender feeling for Vera, which awakened within me and had gradually grown strong. There was something in this powerful woman's soul that pulled and drug me and enchanted me so I finally could not do without her. She had become for me all, the center around which all my thoughts and feelings revolved, gloss over my life.

    So we wandered around the same time into the earth coarse matter, without knowing more about our future destinies than we wanted to consecrate ourselves to the holy cause of liberty.

III

    
    In a small town in southern Russia, I was born in 1835 of simple, good-hearted parents. My father was a merchant and brought up well on their little trading. My mother was a pious woman. The Little Peter was his parents'  'eyestone' and grew up to be a brisk and dashing boy. Already as a child I had a strong will, that I not gladly gave away. I was not so
easy to supervise and educate, but then my parents, and particularly my mother, never
treated me hard, I kept a lot of them and obeyed them willingly. An old
schoolmaster, however, which would impart me the first teaching and then proceeded
with unnecessary severity, soon became my enemy. Against him I was defiant and
disobedient, and I played him happy, so when I could, a little startled. Once I hid his hat so he had to go home bareheaded. I myself, I had hurried me away before
storm broke loose. But when I then heard this expires over an innocent, I went to
my antagonist and told him that he had acted unfairly towards my companion, for it was I who hid his hat: he could search the tall chestnut tree in the schoolyard. It became
naturally a thorough thrashing and hot threath that I had to quit school if I did not behave
me properly. Nothing had been me agreeable, but father wanted me to go left, and
I obeyed, though I think I had a feeling that I just learned nothing in this primitive
learning institution.
    However, I had a burning taste for learning and sought all by themselves
a great deal of knowledge: so that I was in school long before my peers. Then I
also got a better teacher and walked briskly ahead in my studies.
    When I was 17 years, I came to the University of Moscow. Here I performed at the beginning a happy student life and left the studies behind. My father sent me regularly, after our conditions, right every month plenty money, and I let in the youthful frenzy, all the pennies go. But when father wrote and wondered why I had not yet taken any exams, I woke up a feeling  of shame within me and I decided to change the way of life. Now, I was instead very diligent and took after a short time a first law degree.

    There were at this time among the students a club that I also belonged to     , but there
I recently had hardly set my foot. One day, one of my comrades, Sascha
Georgewitsch, came and asked me to come along to the club, where a little later in the evening, a secret meeting would be held, to discuss some anomalies at the university. I
followed. The thing was not in itself so important, it touched a relegation, which at the
time was not a rarity, but the reason was this time that the expelled, a
among comrades universally popular young man in a graduation handed down a somewhat careless opinion on sovereign powers principled objectionable as government.
    The doors closed and the guards were exposed at appropriate points to alert someone
danger threatened, because the police bloodhounds sniffed happy about student clubs. Sascha,
who was particularly attached to the expelled Fellow, opened the meeting and gave a, of
aggression and resentment saturated talk over the tank shackles, that the university wanted to tie their free students to. This speech was a spark for many of the students and
even for me. After preferable's end I went back and thanked Sascha – and said, adding that he in me, could count on a strong supporter of his ideas; yes, if it would also require action,
I wanted to join and be with.
    - It will probably entail action Peter; he said, but yet we are by no means prepared
therefore. We must begin by the student circles permeate opinion against repression
from our university teachers and even from much higher up.
    I pressed his hand, and from that moment we were friends who knew we could rely
on each other.

    Some other speakers also performed, and it ended with almost all the
currently signed up as members of a secret covenant that called
themselves "Freedom Lovers". The expelled fellow, the son of a wealthy nobleman in Moscow - I want here in this my story only call him Alexander - was immediately elected as the union's Honorary Member.
    Thus arose one of the many small foci of freedom and as  sacred fire, which at this time on
different localities were lit in Russia, and burned a time, often choked with violence, but then flamed up again with greater fervor, offering cures;, where many of Russia's noblest sons brought his goods of freedom, even their lives was offered on the altar. So strong was already then the enthusiasm for Russia's liberation.
    Freedom Friends' Association had under Saschas presidency frequent gatherings;
which admittedly was not yet talk of any action policies, but where we fired up
ourselves and others for our good thing and pushed leaflets that were distributed among the other students.
    At one of these meetings, I had reported me as a speaker. I developed a longer-
speech our program, which was to the university work for thought and word
emancipation which was ultimately aimed at the entire Russian people's liberation from Tsardom and the Senior overwhelm's oppression.

    - It is: “ I said, - not only of thought and freedom of speech here at the university, we must
work for: our goal is a larger scale.
    All of our poor people groan under an unbearable oppression exercised by an irresponsible, ignorant and raw officialdom, and supported by an autocracy that rages in bloodthirsty cruelty, without a view of the poor victims of this beast politics are people with an immortal soul, people with the same right to spiritual as well as physical air, light and freedom that they in society are higher ranking. It's a battle to the death against the Czarist idea we must
focus on. What more is, if we are in this battle – at first -  with so uneven battle - personally must die; - its ok. For every hero who is killed for the cause of freedom, grows ten out of his tracks. Fatherland requires that we sacrifice our freedom and our lives. Let us do it with glossy determination. Our cause is sacred, we self  means nothing.”

    I had scarcely pronounced the last words sooner than the doors burst open and two policemen, accompanied by a dozen gendarmes (policesoldier), entered into the hall. I was immediately arrested. And with me some of those who stood nearest the pulpit, among others, also Sascha. Any resistance was not to think about. We were taken to a police detention center, where we were detained several days before we even subjected to any questioning.

    Finally we were taken one morning before the police judge. The hearing was a parody of
court hearing, which would have brought our ridicule unless the situation was so serious.
    Some of the arrested got away with shorter prison sentences, but Sascha and I
were sentenced to deportation for ten years. Siberia was thus the target to which our youthful
freedom glow had brought us. Without a change in face, we heard my judgment.
    
    Still close to a month we were kept in custody until the caught were collected - those that would share our fate, and the transport column had time to be organized.
    
    It could fill volumes if I would describe in detail only the suffering that was
associated with the slow walk on ulcerated feets over Russia's steppes and Siberian wastelands.

    We were together 50 to 60 unfortunate men, that during whip strokes' blow - dragged us forward with time marches on 15 to 20 miles of the endless large swaths way over Nishneij
Novgorod - Kazan - Perni by the Uralic forests over West- sibir's  tundras to
Tobolsk and thence to Kolyvan, which was the goal of our journey.

(sett inn kartbilde)

    Worse than the actual hard walk, how arduous it was; for us the miserable, squalid
hovels, which was made of timber for the purpose to make transport of prisoners - a night quarters. Any more horrid you can hardly imagine than to be packed together in those stinking unsound nests, where we found out ourselves a bed as best we could on the dirty floor - with or without a little straw below us. If it was a nuisance to the poor peasants, who, however, were accustomed to privations of every kind, how could it not be felt for the educated men - who was raised in a certain comfort. And if it was unbearable for us men, how much harder would it not be for the poor women. No small part of our
sufferings braced ourselves of the bad diet, which not only was badly cooked, many a time
only half cooked, but also of horrid quality and nature. It was really needed
appetite, which  the constant and hard marches provoked, to bring oneself to eat it.

    Our column consisted mainly of political prisoners; to which also counted
such as f.x. during intoxication or in despair, had struck a gendarme (mil.police) or only threatened a local judge.

There were grizzled old farmers; rough-built worker, slender young men with white
slender hands and a flaming glow in ther eyes. The women, ten or twelve in number, were all
between twenty and thirty years, most of them apparently from the affluent middle class. They, like Sascha and I, had been arrested in nihilistic youth clubs; where its warm
enthusiasm had fired up many a male minds to infer/enter into freedom fight.

                  
    As we went further on, our crowd was increased with new unfortunates, as from other
parts of the empire came to our column. In Nischneij Novgorod )*fastened my attention to a
young girl, who was with the young men and were pushed into our ranks. She had a rich
dark brown hair, a vigorous mouth closed and big dreamy eyes, who immediately betrayed to
She belonged to the class of youth, without regard to their family connection, or their position in life else, had enthusiastically thrown themselves into the revolutionary movement, to be part of the great freedom struggle - that they was already dreaming of – to be such imminent.

    I was drawn by a strange inner power to go to her side and asked her politely if I
could be her helpful.
    - Thank you, 'she answered, I will probably wear my fate on my own shoulders. You are, incidentally, just as helpless as I am.

    Discipline in our march was not very severe, only if one was not came after. We
had the right to go and talk to each other, and if we did not speak so loud that one of the
guards belonging to us could hear, we could even confide to each other our previous life stories and the immediate reason for the expulsion. Some were in this respect very communicative, others clenched mouth so that one did not got a word out of them. To the latter category belonged apparently my new acquaintance from Nischneij Novgorod. She was mute and rejection-like, however, without being unkind. But she interested me so that I, in spite of it, as often as I could, sought her out and tried to initiate a call. Gradually thawed her stiffness and she became somewhat more communicative. Her name was Sonja, she was the daughter of a wealthy nobleman which took a large estate near Kostroma.

 
    About  the reason for her banishment, I had guessed right. Our fate was in that case
very similar. With great interest, she heard me talk about the revolutionary, or as it was then
called, nihilistic movement among Moscow students. Her dreamy eyes had a dim shine when we came into this topic that was for both of us so dear.

    What it made me sick inside,that this richly talented, educated woman in luxury born  women, what she had to suffer during that dreadful march. But the heroism with which she bore her sufferings, made me forget my own. Our journey had begun in the fall.

The roads were of the constant rainfall - just dissolved, and ourselves, we were often so drenched that we literally had not a dry thread on the body, and such were we stowed into next night-quarters;, where we at a log fire was allowed to dry garments for garment. How the air would be in those logements, can more easily be sensed than described. In some places there were separate rooms for men and for women, but in others again, we were pushed into  a single large room.

    Was it strange if Sonja, despite his willpower, in the end could not hold herself up.
She fell ill with a fever and was put on one of the big tents with overwrought flatbed trailers
accompanying the rest. Among others, also had one of the drivers become sickened - so severely that he had to be left behind in the village. I was obliged to take his place, and thus it came about that I had to drive the wagon in which Sonja was sick. I was now in a position to give her all the nursing as the primitive situation did, and felt infinitely happy for. What was now to me all the hardships I myself had to endure, and I wore them with the
greatest joy because - they had brought me together with this woman, who during all that together we had suffered, gradually become dearer to me than freedom. Yes, if I now had had the choice between the pardon and turn back alone, or run on with my precious load, I had not hesitated a moment. So dear she had been to me, she who was lying on the
straw -mattress with my coat over her.

    With no word, hardly with a look had I told of my heart's secret.
She would not be interfered with anything on my part, this martyr
for our holy cause, it was my firm resolve; and therefore I went quietly and overjoyed with
reins in hands at the side of the cart.
    She was, however, after a couple of weeks so restored that she could no longer be rolled, but must regain her place in the columns. I however was still bound by the stuff, where I
attended me to my  supervisors great satisfaction. So I was now almost completely divorced from Sonja again. Never could I believe that I would come to mourn of a dear friends
recovery, but I will be honest, I did so really now.

    Winter came upon us with snow and cold in the Uralic mountains, but it was almost
preferable to the rain and the deep muddy roads. During the march we kept always
hot and during night, we got enough fuel.

    But now came a new trial. In Tobolsk, our column should be divided. And a few,
and among them Sonja, was sentenced to the mines Omsk, while I contrast with
Sascha and most other to Kolyvan. With a limitless pain, I looked to the day when I
forever should be separated from her that was my ALL in this world, and I could finally not
restrain the expression of my grief. She whispered a barely audible "thanks" and gave me her
hand, which I passionately pressed.

    The dreadful day had come. We were gathered in a square at Tobolsk. Hawser was
shifted. Horses from and new: it was swearing and ranting. Guards had
come over brandy and was raw and unruly. A police commissioner came from the Registry
with a large piece of paper in his hand. He started shouting our names and we were distributed on two columns.

    Then Sonja's name was read, she approached the police officer who had a ruddy but
good-natured look, and said with firmness:
    -I ask you 'Little Father', let me go with the column that goes to Kolyvan.
    No, my little sugar, that will I not do, then I would lose service, and that can I not risk. By the way, I will tell you that they are much better in Omsk. Was she not happy to get there?

    -'That does not matter. Think of a way to let me come along to Kolyvan.
    She had spoken so loud that we all heard it. Was it possible ... would she want to..? There arose something of cheer in my chest. I stood breathless excitement. The red-faced pulled  in his shaggy hair and was visibly perplexed.
   ' -I can at least not determine that my little dove. I have to ask the governor, but then
she must tell me why she wants to change the exile. Such is usually not granted if
you do not have good reason.
    'I have the cause that I'm married to him standing there; Peter Ivanowitsch, which is
Sentenced to Kolyvan. Do you understand now?
    I uttered a great cry of joy and ran to Sonja.
    Yes, I cried, please do not divide us. We are united for time and eternity. We can work with
more power together than separately. Help us dearie, and God will reward you!
    There had been a movement among our fellow prisoners, and they pressed forward and
united their prayers with ours. We were apparently well at all of them and now they shouted in - interrupting each other:
    - Yes, it's true, they are married. Let them go together!
    - So, so, so! cried the red-faced. Shut up, because here's  I talking! You may believe, good
friends: that it is not so easy to break a gracious command. When the group will reach its destination, it must hold the real/right number, as it says in the paper,
neither too much or too little. And as you want, it would be one too many to Kolyvan - and too little to Omsk. It will not do, you know. I loose my job ... ouch, ouch, ouch, I lose office.

    A woman among them who was sentenced to Kolyvan now step forward and asked to be allowed to change place with Sonja.
    - Yeah, see that was not so bad, 'said the red-faced, but ... but ... but, as you will
front and reads your name and finds out that they got hold of a wrong woman, then it is just me they blame.
    - No, said Sonja, we change the name, right?
    She turned to the other, who affirmed her question.
    The red-faced gave a flat laughter.
    - Looking at so cunning they are women ... ouch ouch ouch, so clever! Yes, then it all goes well then. Then I can decide the matter myself, he added, with a major mine. The governor do not need to go into such trifles. Join now still little friends! But by all means, remember your new names, he added laughing and threatened finger.

    You old drunken gentleman, blessed you are with this way of applying imperial orders!

    So was Sonja and I joined at the Tobolks' square, to our fellow prisoners shout.
Any other wedding had we not and did not need, either.

    Happier have no bridegroom embarked his honeymoon than I was; when we again put us in march to Kolyvan. I had been wanting to dance the way forward, such roared the joy inside
me. Sonja was calmer, but even she was happy. It was not a rash step she had taken;
it had matured in her, this decision since the day she has to step down from the ambulance-carriage. And now, we went there hand in hand towards the unknown, with dark fates, but with peace and joy in our hearts.
    
    At last we were on target for our walk, but now begun a new chapter in our
pain history. We arrived in February. The cold was very severe and we suffered terribly in the
ramshackle hut that was assigned to us residence. Our clothes were almost worn out and in
otherwise inadequate. A hard work awaited us as well, in any case quite
foreign to both of us. I was in the designated place in one of the mines, where I had to stand in the days to its end in the same place - in the dark and damp with some other wretch men and turn a windlass for hoisting ore. It was considered the hardest work and therefore were
the newcomers there. Food was sent to us once at midday, an inadequate and cold food
which it was claimed as a preliminary starvation in order to bring himself to ingest (the bad food). How death-tired and in despair, was  I not in the evenings, when I on the slippery ladders – on painstaking steps up
again, walked to my 'home! '

But there met me Sonja - always with open arms and a loving smile, and thus she stroked away - for the moment at least - all the bitterness of my soul.

    What she was strong and what she was good! Her work was also not less heavily
and laborious than mine. There was a large common kitchen where all mining prisoners' food was cooked, a horribly filthy hole where rats ran around on the floor as tame
pets, and cockroaches hung in large clusters on the walls. Here, Sonja task
to wash the utensils that came back with leftovers from the mines. A more disgusting place -
employment, can hardly be imagined, but she bore her fate with resignation and a
fortitude which was admirable.

As I often was so dejected by the discouragement that I prefer'ed wanted to die, even for your own hand, it never came a regret over Sonja's lips. She sought to persuade me courage by drawing up plans for the future, then our prison-time had gone to
end. She was sentenced to eight years but was determined to stay the two years extra of my sentence  that over shot her. Yes, what I'd have done, if I had not had this angel at my side!

    Unfortunately, however, I would not keep her, but why say "sorry", I should not
rather rejoice and be thankful that she had been able to quit. After one and a half-year staunchly supported sufferings she succumbed - maybe more for the immense soul -tension and powered stress, than for physical efforts and hardships. It broke out in the summer year after our arrival - a plague, which like a liberation angel went over our penal colony. Sonja was among the lucky ones, whose chains fell off. I sat with her in the end. The beautiful eyes shone with fever glow when she squeezed my hand and whispered:
    - Be of good cheer Peter. I believe in a continued existence in which we shall receive for
what we here have suffered, and where we shall find each other under brighter conditions – very brighter. Thank you dearest for what you have been for me! Never had I been able to bear my fate if I had not had you by my side ... And one more thing, Peter: Never think that the sacrifice we spent for our beloved fatherland – have been in vain. What we suffered in silence, unseen by humans, and it is a seed Russia's sacred soil, it will once again bear fruit to the liberation of our people.'

    She lay there holding my hand in her. I saw how the forces sank. From a movement with her head, I knew it was something she wanted to say further. I leaned my ear against
her mouth and captured her last barely audible words:
    - I am going away now Peter ... may never see my country ... but when you once again get to trample on Russian soil, so bend your knees and kiss the ground like a greeting from your Sonja.
    
    Alone - alone - what would I do now? This hell in  even 8 1/2 years in such
conditions was me not possible. Somehow I have to put an end to my
misery. I could throw myself into the mine opening, it would be a safe deliverance, many
had done it before me. But it was like I was ashamed for Sonja by that idea. What
she would not suffer to see such an act of cowardice, for I felt myself that it was cowardly
in this way to escape from life.
    But to hold out of my captivity until coming back to life, or escaping to  a dignified human existence and a useful activity, it would be my rights, and that would Sonja like. However there was no easy thing: First, to prepare an opportunity to escape and then on untrodden roads thru hardship, which must be horrible. To drag on thousands mil, still in danger of being intercepted, returned, flogged and hanged - it was just not some appealing perspective.
    
    So far I have hardly mentioned a word about Sascha, I have gone up in Sonja's and my
own destinies, and yet he had always been by my side both during transport and then in
work. He was my ever-faithful friend and companion accident. Now, I sought his company
more than before, but the moment we could talk intimately with each other were few counted.

 It was not allowed for prisoners at work to talk to each other, much less had we
right at free moments to come together and have private discussions. But how severe
we were watched, however, could it not be prevented  two proposed men, who knew how to take each opportunity, to meet and exchange ideas.

    We started spinning our plans. The goal was to reach Switzerland, the political refugees
promised land. But how? At first, we had to sneak our way along the same major
HIGHROAD as we arrived, but not on the road, it would inevitably lead to our capture. No, we have to make our way to the side of the road, but never completely let go of the direction, as we then could come into the endless wilderness we had to pass.

 Once received in Russia, we would embark on a more southerly route than the one we have come to the Pensa, Tambow and Pultowa and so to seek out Odessa or another port city on the Black Sea. Where you could always take the hire of any ship or stay hidden in the load and thus come over to Italy and from there to Switzerland.

    But one thing was to lay plans; another to bring them into execution. How to get feed
meanwhile, since it obviously was connected with great danger to move in the villages or
cities, at least while we were going on Siberia's land? For it was a great price/reward
promised for those who could CATCH an escaped prisoner and deliver him into the country police' hands. But why do despair, we were now right in the middle of the summer, the forests and the fields were full of berries and edible herbs. It was just to get away before it went too late in the year. But how would the escape done? The first step was always the hardest; then
would dangers and difficulties subside in proportion as we got further from our exile.

    Now was the time to act wisely and expeditiously. The circumstances were now favorable to us. I successfully managed by a farmer, who had been in the city and provided themselves with brandy, stealing a keg when he was at half drunk, lay on the carriage' load and let the horse go the same old way without the guidance of reins. This keg was to be our ally. Set it out by the road as the nearest guard had to pass. It succeeded. At midnight, when we
crept out, we found the guard in deep sleep beside 'the trap' we had put in his way.

    With beating heart I crept right next to him, took his hat that had fallen by
him, and side gun that he put down, a little short knife/dagger, who could get us to be
useful both as a defense weapon and knife. In exchange, he got my prisoner cap, the only of the incriminating garments we managed to get rid of.

    And so we began our adventurous journey. That we were able to implement our program
seems to me even now as a miracle. But the hardships and dangers it entailed; which
suffering it cost, what hunger pangs it meant, I will not even try to depict, it would also spin out my story to a tedious length. Only a few       suggestions may here be permitted me.

    When you are fighting for life and liberty under such difficult circumstances: one is not so scrupulous about the means. In many a lonely landscape hut, where we dared count on our physical strength, if needed, we went boldly into. We began by begging, and if this
not helped - we took by force food and clothing. May they forgive us, these out there country dwellers, defenseless inhabitants. I hope we see these people on one or the other level and must there be in opportunity to rediscover these our creditors and repay them many times for what we were compelled to forcibly on.
    Since in this way we eventually managed to exchange the incriminating prisoner costume
against ordinary peasant clothes and even got further from the place of deportation, we dared ourselves into villages, before giving us like to be Siberian peasants seeking work. In a different place we also stayed a few days to help with the corn harvest or autumn plowing, and could in this way and even make the occasional rubles. Many a time we had to endure a difficult cross-examination before the rural police or village elder, and saved us by
allocate the most idiotic stupidity. The dangerous, however, was that we had no pass, but also this difficulty was finally fixed.
    In Yekaterinburg, we were arrested by a gendarme and introduced to the police chief to be
subjected to interrogation. With trembling hearts we came accompanied by a gendarme into a room in the Police Office, where currently no one was inside. The police chief had not yet come and we got a long wait, so we had plenty of time to look around. On the table in front of us was a amount of paper; among which my sharp eye noticed some passport forms. It was within reach these long-awaited papers; that for us denoted the greatest security, but how to
access them?
    Then we heard a violent noise in the room outside: it sounded like a real riot with high
shouts and clatter of litter battered chairs. The police rushed out. Instantly I could pick
some forms; folded them and put them in the boot shaft. But once it was done
I realized the danger I put me through, a body search and I had been lost. The sweat of anxiety deposed large beads on my forehead.
    He came back and immediately thereafter entered the police boss into the room. He
had witnessed the end of the scuffle and was its better so busy in that he devoted
us little attention. The assistant reported that we were arrested as passport-less, but it
did not seem to interest him the boss.
    - Let those nuts go and get me immediately report what passed here beside, he roared in
ungracious tone to the gendarme.

    We were saved. There was no difficulty from an note on the city's townhall-door,  to quick copy the sign-name of chief constable's signature in a haste and then ourselves write out passports. Sascha was full of admiration of my cunning and boldness. On himself he said that he had never been able to conceive - let alone carry out - this plan.

    The Dear Sascha! He was more an enthusiast than a practical man, but never had I – but (by) his assistance - could have implemented my escape. So many times when I was ready to succumb during physical fatigue and mental brokenness, made me Saschas springy temper and endless patience- it came to help. He was in fact the driving force of our fraternity.
And so devoted and obliging he was!

Once, when I was in utter despair, and were fixed determined to no longer continue the hopeless struggle for life, but simply wanted to lie me down and abandon myself to the agonizing death of starvation, then found Sascha his strength to collect some herbs and berries that he forced me to ingest. I felt ashamed of my discouragement, and so we walked on. When we left Jekaterinenburg, we came into European Russia. I knelt down and made Sonja's greeting to the native soil. The movement was too much for me. I cried like a baby over this poor country, that had already suffered so much and who certainly still in decades had to bleed and cry before freedom's sun, rose over the steppes. But I also remembered Sonja's words, that what we suffered  had not been in vain. It will one day bear fruit to the liberation of our people.
    
    Thanks to our passes, as were often shown, and was always taken for good, we could now travel far safer. We worked where we could get work, and was thus able to feed us on
honest manner, but slow happend this mode of travel. Winter came and the winter passed, and we were not breaking beyond Pensa, but with spring, flowed new vitality into our feet and new encourage poured into our minds. The latter part of our flight went without any major adventure; yes sometimes even under comparatively comfortable conditions. So for example succeeded us that as barge men, sail a long piece, accompany a barge flotilla on Dnieper. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dnieper_River)

    At last we reached Odessa in early August. Our journey had taken an entire year.
The clothes hung in rags about your body, your hair lay down on our shoulders, our beard was matted and wild. Although we were not more than, Sascha 27 and I 25, our faces were furrowed, our backs bent, our time lagged, so we looked like old men. For the rubles, we succeeded to collect and store, we bought us new clothes, cut hair and beard and then took the lease on a Italian vessel was ready to sail to Genoa.
    The feelings we experienced when we left the moorings in Odessa Harbour and in full sail gliding onto the Black Sea, can be more easily sensed than described. We trod a free country's planks, we were beyond the reach of the Russian police' sniffer dogs, - we were free men. The Russian coast sank on the horizon. With cheers, but also with an undertone of deep sadness, we waved the distant blue streak goodbye.
    Would we well ever again see our fatherland?
    
    There was at that time quite a few Russian refugees in Switzerland, where they found not only a secure refuge, but in many cases a real home, with good-hearted people who were
interested in the Russian' struggle for freedom.

Among these were a wealthy philanthropists landowners near Basel - I want in this story only call him Eberhard – who together with his wife exerted a magnificent charity. They were especially known for to support the poor Russian exiles and tried to help them to some profitable employment. We had heard them spoken of, by the Russians, who we had met in Bern, and our goal now was to seek out these noble people and ask for their assistance in the
near future.

    It was a strange feeling of peace that I experienced when I came within their home. We became kindly received and told of our strange destinies/fates. I noticed enough to see how wife Käthe many times looked upon us with suspicious glances, apparently wondering: How much is well true of those tall stories? - But we continued our depiction in a fairly detailed form. The richmans beautiful, faithful eyes lit, in contrast - of confidence. When we stopped, he took our hands and shook them heartily.
    - Do you now find refuge in our country! he said. You may need to rest and
refreshment after such hardships and sufferings. With what can I assist you?
    - In the beginning, we would be grateful, I replied, if we could stop any shorter
time on your goods as workers of one kind or another, until we had time to become familiar with the language, then we hope to be better able to help ourselves.
    - I will speak to my manager and probably hopes to arrange this, but you
understand that you also have to share my other workers' lot - if you do not find it vulgar.
    - I believe I answered that this lot will be a real paradise for the we
left.
    Thereby it became. We came among the vineyard workers. It was now late in the autumn
but the grape harvest was continuing. With an indescribable joy we took hold of this work. We received too soon the testimonials/ grade, that more diligent workers one had to look for. Then the grape harvest was taken in, we were called in to the houselord, as much praised us for the work we had performed, as trustee for the best acknowledged. Even wife Käthe now seemed to have given up her suspicions and met us with much kindness.
    We thanked him for the excellent treatment we received in the beginnings and said goodbye. We intended us to Basel, where we hoped to find some suitable employment.

    “- I'm waiting just today a Russian nobleman from Basel, where he was a couple of years living in voluntary exile. Maybe it could be of any use to meet him. Do not you want
stay here for so long?”

    We were obviously very grateful for the friendly proposal, and sat down on the
terrace, dressed in our work attire.
    A carriage drove up in the yard and a man of barely 30 years old, with fine aristocratic
move get out. The host goes to meet him and bring him up. We were presented as
"Compatriots who have suffered for Russia's liberation". But what is happened the suddenly to Sascha? Before our boss had had time to say our names, he runs up and throws himself on the neck of the new comer.
    - Alexander, he cries, is it really you? It was a happy reunion and “see again of joy” - that can not be described. I was not so familiar with our university partner, but when he heard my
name, he reminded himself that I was among the victims of the punishment that was held with due to the demonstrations that followed his expulsion. Our good host and
hostess was extremely interested in this unexpected meeting and invited us to
be their guests for a few days, to give us time to collate our memories with
our friend Alexander, an invitation which we gratefully adopted. Unforgettable days of joy
and happiness, the first in nearly four years, - they laid a balm over the still bleeding
wounds.

    We parted from our new friends, Eberhard and Käthe, and followed Alexander to Basel,
where he introduced us of many of Russia's freedom aspirations interested people, and where we soon got a job that left us a scanty salvage. Sascha took a job at a major trade offices and
I became an employee of a newspaper with the first task to provide a series of depictions of our captivity and our escape.
    So we were finally free citizens in a free country, certainly not our own, but a
country where, because of the sympathy we got in the beginnings, could feel quite well at.
The language, which of course we studied at university, wreaked us now no difficulty.
    
    I now make a jump in my story in nearly 10 years that elapsed still and quiet during
work and social by most agreeable nature. From my home, I had been told that both
my parents were dead. Their estate had shifted between other relatives when I
were considered to be missing without a trace. It bothered me very little, I was good now, lived by my pen and had a small intimate circle of friends around me. Often, I was the guest of Eberhard and Käthe, which I increasingly learned to hold off.

    Some Russian refugees along with a few others for our cause interested individuals, had at
this time in Basel, a club whose leader was Alexander. Through this club, which stood in
connection with like-minded secret clubs in several of Russia's major cities, we stood in a
constant touch with our fatherland and followed with keen interest the plans
forged. Many a time I felt such a burning desire to return, to again throw me into the secret seething life, especially among the student youth, and it required Alexanders and Sascha's united effort to persuade me to give up what they called a foolhardy undertaking.
    Years had passed and I was now a middle-aged man in my full labor capacity. I went and
longed to do something different than just writing newspaper articles. Then something happened that forever put an end to all hopes of the road.
    I was brought up often long hikes in Basel's beautiful surroundings and extended them
sometime until Eberhard's country house, lying 15 km south of Basel. On a distance of half a kilometer completely close the estate,  the railway line runs parallel to and close to the
highway. Just as I headed out had reached this point, the train whizzed past in Basel,
and immediately afterwards, I see a carriage with horses in full light come rushing against
me. The road was just behind me in a sharp bend and the ditch was on the outside of the bend
very deeply. Here was a real danger to passengers, whoever they were, and I decided
to try to save them. I threw myself in front of the horses and got hold of their bridles, but
was pushed over, came under the wagon, got serious crush injuries and lost consciousness.
    When I regained consciousness/ composure, I lay on a stretcher, carried by two men and walked beside the stretcher, did Eberhard and Käthe: it was their life I had saved. I felt severe pain in the abdomen and could not move. They brought me up in a guest room and a doctor was sent for.He stated that I had broken a leg and suffered a severe internal injury in the genital area, he looked worried, and I heard how he spoke of the danger of an internal exsanguination/blood loss. In some days I hovered between life and death, but life kept the victory.

    It was a long and painful convalescence during which I at the tenderest was
nursed by my friends, especially by Käthe, who then was supported by a nurse from
Basel, sister Ursula. However, it was not easy to take care of me, because the doctor had
strictly forbidden me to help myself when I'd turned or lifted. I had
nor made it, for the least I made an attempt, I felt cool interior
pains. But Käthe and Ursula were tireless in their tender care of me, and
Eberhard took turns with them for the first time to watch over me.
    Ursula, the good soul, was a devout Catholic who, since I have become stronger, felt free to come onto the religious issue and did what she could to convert me to the Roman
Church. She belonged to a French charity societies, that as well as their loving work-
operations, even when the opportunity presented itself, and especially the sick beds, did Catholic propaganda. My host people, who themselves belonged to the Reformed Church, but otherwise highly esteemed sister Ursula, who they knew from old, did not like the
unsuitable in these experiments, but she was irretrievable in its zeal. She said that when I
nevertheless was a Catholic, though the erring Greek Church, it should be easy for me to now
turn to the only salvation.
    I must confess that I had not spent the religious issue any warmer interest, and
neither I felt attracted by Sister Ursula's mission, but it had eventually come up in me the conviction that our beliefs about death and afterlife was not real. It was especially Sonja's words on his deathbed: "I believe in continued existence, where we shall receive what we suffered here, and where we shall find each other under brighter conditions ", which also gave me a brighter faith.

Perhaps we also there find the solution to mortality's obscure riddles, maybe we get a satisfactory answer to the question, of why do we have to suffer so much down here? These and similar thoughts occupied me a lot during the long time I was tied, first at the bed and then to a wheelchair. I spoke with Eberhard and Käthe about my thoughts and found in E. - one willing audience. Käthe however, were afraid of these new ideas. She hold to the Reformed Church learning, and considered any deviation in freer direction for sin. Our debates on these issues were however, marked by much deference, which helped to make them instructive and agreeable to us all three. Ursula was happy when we were talking about these topics.

    One day Eberhard came home from the city and brought a newly published book that
reignited on our concerns. It was Allan Kardec "Le livery des Esprit" (Swedish
Translation: Souls/The spirits book) that he had seen in the bookstore, and just discussed the topics we had begun to concern ourselves with. It was a very eager studentreading, - we read it loud together and discussed the content. Both Eberhard and I felt immediately convinced of the truth of what we read. Käthe always had her objections, but must' for each time finally allow the existence of a logical probability for the simple teachings that this book appeared.
    It was an indescribably rewarding and enjoyable time we in this way we spent
together. That which to me looked like a terrible accident, had in fact spread a new line of thoughts, and new studies are very important for my development.
    One night as I lay awake thinking about the possibility of a connection between mind  -
and the spirit world, I suddenly saw a figure standing at the foot of the bed. My first impression was amazement and consternation, how much I longed myself to experience something on this mysterious area. I was afraid, however, when it came so naturally to me. I was close to scream, but controlled myself and stared in full of amazement at the wonderful
Revelation. It was a female guise, completely wrapped in white, but her features during the
thin veil, - I could not discern. She was so bright that she completely dispelled the darkness of room.
    - Who are you? I ventured forward to whisper. Then she lifted the veil slowly, and Sonja's beautiful eyes beamed to meet me.
    - my Love! I exclaimed, stretching out arms to her.
    She put her finger at my mouth and commanded silence. She came closer, put her hand first to the heart and then put it gently on my head. I sat in a breathless excitement, I dared
not to move. I dared not to speak. She pulled herself slowly back, waved her hand as
for inviting me to follow and melted away before my eyes.

    Now I laid back in the darkness. Was I awake or was it all just a beautiful dream? I
pinched my arm to convince me that I had not slept. Thus, it was a reality, a
lovely, beautiful reality, it was my own Sonja who came to tell that she was alive, that
she thought of me, she still kept me in love. Was it perhaps also her opinion that to
prepare me, that I would soon come after? She waved as she wanted to say: Follow
Me, I'm waiting for you!

    Yes, nothing would have been dearer to me than to leave this mortal life that caused me so many sufferings, but still I had not been given holidays.
    I told Eberhard and Käthe of my sight, and thus broke the latter's last opposition to spiritualism.
        After nearly three months of illness and convalescence, was I so recovered that I
could move back to my home town. The doctor prescribed, however, the greatest calm,
otherwise the wound could go up again. It was with much regret I left the friends that had
become me so precious, because I realized that I now - not so easily was able to get the
long way out to their nice home.
    This disease had for me was of the utmost importance. It had brought my
thoughts into one for me - completely new area and had given me a completely new outlook on life, a completely new philosophy, a belief that I could live and die on. I began to understand that the there is a deep meaning in life, not just on the whole, but also all the small events forming a human life, and this certainty gave me an inner balance that I'd never
really felt before. I went home full of courage, in which the word is of higher sense, and it was of the precious memory of Sonja's visit.
    My friends were grateful also for the new outlook they entered, and asked me often to come back, so we would continue our joint studies.

    But fate had decided differently. Shortly after my return home, I was compelled to
undertake a small trip, I ran into the mishap to my wagon – as it broke down and I was forced
to traverse a few kilometers on foot. It was more than my still fragile organism sustained. I had a relapse of internal bleedings and so the need to re-occupy the bed. Sascha, with
which I throughout our stay in Basel had shared residence, sat by my side. Forces
sank suddenly, I felt that the end was near and asked him to send word to Eberhard and
Käthe. They came, so that I once had to pressing their hands and thank them for all the
tenderness and friendship they had given me. I died with Sascha's hand in mine.

    Only a few words to finish.
    My reunion with Sonja, in which I immediately recognized the former Vera, was a
indescribable joy. But the experiences I had in the near future along with
she- fall in the private sphere. Only one little episode of recent date I still try to retell.

    Time has in its restless path, rolled a quarter of a century ahead. On Earth Stood
man ready to carve in a new century figure. From my good-angle position, in one of
astral worlds bright spheres, I had frames with interest in the events in the matter-
world and especially their development in my last fatherland. Several for the Russia's
liberation - warmly interested spirits from different spheres - have here beeb brought together and exerts a systematic organized activities for the promotion of the freedom movement as there has started adopting ever closer forms.

    We sat here a short time ago, some intimate friends together, and discussed the question: Will Russia be able to find themselves in a likely imminent war with Japan? (remember this was written/transferred more than 100years ago. & This war came 1904-1905. Tr.rem.) Shall tsarist ruling thereby even more secure its power, and for a longer time, shoot away the goals we are striving for, or should its empire hereby get the ground-shoot/hit, after which it no more can rise up to the same reputation as before?

Most leaning towards the latter view. Only Alexander, who would like to see everything in the dark colors, feared the last end. Sascha, or to name him at his former name Ivan, hoping on the other hand, that all of such a war was necessary, and felt that there should do what could be done, to speed up its eruption, before Russia could even more, - consolidate its power in East Asia.

    As we talked, came Orel, our old friend from the days of old, who had not been on earth
since we last met, with bids from a higher realm, that we would all keep ourselves ready to – at a given order, suspend us for service, some in Petersburg, others in Port Arthur - in order to
in any way seek to wrest the war forth, that in any case could not be avoided and had to be
essential for the fate of Russia. Sascha looked triumphantly at me.
    - I'll  be correct, you shall see, 'he said.
    There was a general joy at this offer from our senior leaders. Finally would then
something taking place with a view to be of real importance. What's more, it must
cost countless sacrifices, better that than this desolate eternal sorrow under a yoke, which
indeed, during an endless wait - demanded yet more victims. Dying is not the worst thing that
can happen to a man, least of all when it is done on such a sacred thing. So molded, our
thoughts and feelings during the enthusiastic closure.

    I mention this only to show how lively interest is up here for everything related
evolution on Earth. We have here our diplomats who look a little farther than
the earthly and also inspired by a warmer zeal for the truly good and not nor hesitates in the choice of a rigorous means, if it is unavoidable, also if it would mean to be the
dreadful scourge called war.

    Sonja, who always took a lively part in our negotiations, had long been quiet. Now she stood up.
    - Yes, friends, she said, perhaps you are right, I do not understand it, but I succumbed to a
dismay that I can not put into words, when I think of the immense suffering, how much
lamentation and wailing shall go forth for  the two great nations to promote our sacred cause. Imagine how it will appear from here, as an immense amount of fallen - lying on the battlefield, while their spirits in spasmodic efforts working to break free from their mutilated
bodies, without any clear consciousness of what is going on with them. Imagine these
unfortunate, yet occupied by hatred and murder, senseless wandering, screaming and
yelling, impervious to the tender care they so desperately need. Indeed, one can
not be hesitant, it may be entitled to collect such a large sacrifice of people who
itself is completely innocent of the crimes that caused this desperate situation. But is
war is inevitable, it is also our duty to timely organize large ambulances and
hospitals for receiving the fallen. There, I will seek my work- area.

    - We must remember, however, objected Sascha, if also the victims of war are innocent to
Czarist offenses, however, they are surely personally guilty of other offenses from
previous earthly life, whose evil karma in this way becomes the opportunity to serve. No is suffering innocently. I myself have suffered not a little in my last life on Earth, but I have
here come to realize that everything I suffered, only has been the inevitable consequence
of atrocities I committed in a much earlier existence, but whose detention I received
save to my latest incarnation, when my sufferings were included as links - in the chain of
sacrifices, that had to be made for the emancipation of Russia. So, such I would also look at the victims of war.
    - Yes, you men are always so ready to figure out the cause and effect. Everything should be as lawfully, and consistently: Not a suffering, without a prior offense, not a crime but a following suffering. Do you not - my dear Sascha, think that there can be such afflictions, man happily submits to, as they are not necessary a part of one's karma, but that those necessarily have to hit one? One “takes them” - just because you can not do otherwise, when one see how others are suffering?

    - Yes, I know, Sascha replied with deep seriousness, and for those true martyrs – I bend
my head.
    He leaned down and kissed Sonja's hand. Here, was interrupted our deliberations of a
woman who searched me. I went out and met her.
    Imagine my surprise when I recognized my tender careing, sister Ursula.
    - Well, finally I meet you, she said. I have looked for you everywhere in this neighborhood, I have a important message to you. Eberhard, your friend, as he was once my Ludwig, is now at his last stages. I assume you want to be involved and receive him.
    - I want, yes. But what do you say - he was your Ludvig? Are you therefore mother
Annika?
    - Yes, while I followed him from here, it dawned on me that I had once been
his mother, but the memories of that time are still a little hazy for me.
    - And it was you who watched over me. Strange fates!
    - Yes, I'm glad I got to do it, then you sacrificed your life to save my Ludvig and
his Elsa. But now is no time to lose.

    I hurried to my friends and told Sister Ursula's bid. Eberhard was for our whole colony a dear friend. Many of us had been in personal contact with him and enjoyed the hospitality of his home, but we all knew him as the warm-hearted free-dom fighter, which, though he was not Russian, had made Russia's liberation - of his life greatest interest.
    All were therefore immediately resolved to follow in order to be part of the beloved
man's liberation and to bear him up to his new home.
    This was done. We arrived just in time to witness the solemn act. He lay there so beautiful
with a faint smile on his lips. His eyes were sunken, his head bare, but the large, white
beard billowed down against the chest. Death work was begun, it was so easy and
painless; few deep breaths, a little twitch in his features, and his bright spirit floated out
from the body and stood free for us.

    His high ethical position and to no small degree, the proper performance he
acquired through study about the transformation of death, did that  he immediately found
his bearings on the new plane/lifelevel. He wiped his forehead and looked surprised about. It
was fun to see how happy he was when he recognized one after another of us, who came
with flowers to welcome him.
    Ursula was beside herself with joy, she fell on his neck and whispered, "Ludvig, my
own boy!"  He first saw a little surprised at her, but then it was as if an old memory awakened and he clasped her tenderly in his arms.
    He kissed the crying Käthe to dismissal and whispered a few words in her ear, then
we put him on one of the roses adorned cushion and carried him on our shoulders out of the room, up through the clear air.
    It was a festive triumph-train when Eberhard was brought home.
    
    
    
    

   Part I I I:

    
Fifteen hundred years of my life

A series of earth lives
   
       
Introduction
    
    For a long time, too long, I have been pondering over these books containing notes
on my many lives on earth, and sucked out of them the experience they have been able to give me.
    Could perhaps a brief summary of what moved my past lifes, even be beneficial to
others? That thought has occurred to me, and I will try, with the help of a “mortal writer/ pen”, put it down in words.

    Centuries have rolled past my mind's eye as I sat here and browsed and read. The
oldest records date back to a hoary antiquity – before even a world history was
written, the youngest concerns a time that is our own very close. All this I have written myself; after the completion of my mortal lives, I have recorded the most important of the events that occurred, the joys and sufferings it caused, the wrongs I've done and the experience I have gained.

And the next time I went down again into the (heavy) matter, I have brought with me this experience as a latent capital, as it came to managing and multiply. Not always, I have had the opportunity to look back at earlier stages of development and never before have I been able to see so far into the past as now. Therefore I have been sitting here so long, in the large library - rapt in the sometimes embarrassing but always instructive study of my own history.

There is something indescribably magnificent in the spiritual evolution we are all subject.
During times of immense extent, we eventually worked our way up, at the beginning
creeping, then with faltering steps, sometimes with purposeful leap, until we reached
up to the platform on which the Earth's humanity are  broadly - at present.
    But what is the road we had traveled – compared to what still lies ahead! Infinite
expanses lit by a brilliant light, opens itself to our eyes, or rather our idea,
when we try to see into the future, a perspective so attractive that it should urge us not to
spare no effort, not to shrink from any sacrifice, not to tremble for something
suffering, when it comes to progress on the path that is us mapped out. And throughout this eternity are all of us hiking, not just in the lump, but each one individually, so that it
possible, in the most loving way - cared for and led by those who are already further
than we are. For all - yes all life and spirit - are linked in an endless creation chain,
widespread throughout the universe - about which the brilliant starry sky gives us a weak idea. A chain, where each link connected to the adjacent with the
the power of love, emanating from Him (the “big being” that rooms all that is), who with his power of love, has generated everything. To him be must our gratitude rise in silent sighs: in jubilant hymns now and eternal times!

      1
    
    I want to start at the end.
    My last earthly life was one of suffering cloister. I had a lot to atone for, and had
taken on me a difficult task, but I went fairly well ashore and hence may I now reap
the fruits of my efforts.
   I was an officer in the German (Army) service and named Fritz von H., was pulled into the 1870-71 years of bloody war and then lived in a secluded corner of a small town in southern Germany. So was the outer of my life, too insignificant that in itself to imply anything of interest, but my inner life was so much richer in impressions and experiences of various kinds. I had a sensitive mind, my spiritual nerves were embarrassingly exposed, and I could therefore suffer of small, little things - more than other people of great sorrows. When I look back on my life, I can hardly see and believe how I could bear everything, so skinless I was.
    It is now not my intention to come up with a long and detailed biography, I shall confine myself to outlining some 'pictures' from my recent hike on earth.
    
    It is night. Lamp burns even on my desk, and I sit deep in reading a popular philosophical work on Happiness, which I had borrowed from an older fellow in school. I myself am only 17 years old. The door opened slowly and my mother; wearing a white night-robe,
comes in and puts her hand on my shoulder.
   “ - I looked through the keyhole that light shone inside, the clock struck 12. What is
the kind of lesson my boy has such a hurry?”
   ' There's no homework, mother. I read about your luck.'
    '-Do you not think it would be more useful to sleep? Luck comes at times when
sleeping; said.'
    '-Not yet, I must first conclude this chapter.'
   ' -Then I will not bother you. But not too long, you need to sleep. Good night my
Fritz!'
   ' -No, do not go, Mother! See here: take my blanket around you and be a moment with me. It is so good to talk when it's quiet in the house.
   ' Is there anything in particular you want to talk about?
    'Yeah, I wanted to ask you, mother: you who are always so calm and peaceful, you know what happiness is?
    -It is probably – generally, in a happy sense of duty, but for me it lies in the joy
of you, my only child, my only support in life.
    -You are so sweet mother, but you know, I think your luck is well tame.
    Do you know any better?
    I do not know if it is better, but probably it would sometimes feel like a relief to get into the fight or bite.
    ' -That was terrible those concepts you have about happiness.
    -Do not worry mother, I do not think, but sometimes it can simmer in my mind of
resentment, that I do not get to hit. Today for example, I received a totally unwarranted
reprimand the school of that idiot Nachenberg. Do not you think I flew up to his
shoulders and grabbed him by the hair - well, well, only in the thoughts of course. But though it felt good, what it had not then been able to do it in reality.

  '-  It's a happiness that I will pray God preserve you from.
    -I think he does too. You need not to be afraid.

-    Is it only when you feel offended that you become so hot?
- Certainly not. The worst thing I know, is to see when they hit a horse. Then
I'd like to flog the man, and the horse I wanted to be free in a painless way, so that it does not have to be subjected to ill-treatment of raw people.
     - There are many things you have to endure to see and experience the sufferings in this world.
      - Yes, that is precisely the question if we have to so. Do you not - mother; think it would be a greater happiness to go away from life, than to live in the midst of all this injustice and brutality?
      What do you mean?
      - I think it might be happier to take own life than be living in the midst of others and one self's  abasement.
      -Preserve me well, such ...
      - Well, you sweet mother; take not you such a miserable countenance. It is no danger at all. Do you think I could walk away from you. I just brooding over where happiness lies.
      - You know what I think? Happiness is in our own essence inside, and  so waiting to be discovered, and the calmer we are, the sooner we find it.
      - Maybe you're right, mother. But how do you want me to be be still, with so much fire in my veins?
      - Suppress the fire, so it does not consume you, and be my own stationary boy. Good night!
      She took both her hands on my head, looked me in my eyes, kissed me on the forehead and left.

2

    There is a big bale at the house of the commanding general. Gaudy uniforms and bright dresses moves gracefully around each other in an atmosphere of complacency, gossip and flirt. Sound of clinks of spurs: it rustles in silks. The band, which is much too large for the room, hurt my ears. I am now an officer -carrying the regiment's pretty uniform. I have danced and joked throughout the evening and seen the young ladies deeply into their eyes. They have given me sweet slight smiles and mischievous eyes, and they have let me know that I am a good dancer, that I am entertaining and enjoyable, and even the uniform dresses me.
    What do they carry below the youthful fair surface? I try to form an idea of  the character of the women I dance with, but may not hold on to something to hold it in. Is she as good as her eyes are warm? How do alter these traits if she would be angry? Are
there any strength in this....? Well, good - let's dance while we're young!
    It is one of the young ladies who have something magical in her eyes, she sucks me up to her – like the beach sucks in a sea wave, for the next moment bumping it back. W

Here she comes right to me.
    -You are so lonely, baron - she says with a delicious smile - will you not give me a
turns in this dance/roll?
    -I thank you; nothing can be dearer to me.
    The music stops. Arm in arm clamps on our way to the buffet.
    ' - It's wonderful to slide back into the dance, when you have a secure arm to lean on.
    -Are you fond of dancing?
    -Much, but it's something I hold even more of.
    And that is?
    -Riding. Do you know Baron, that you should come up with us-  in our riding club.
    - Yes, I can happily say “my” riding club, for it is I who formed it and where I rule
supreme.
    Yes, it is the best form of government, only one has the good fortune to have a ...
    -Speak up, I promise not to feel offended. So adorable rulers.
    Yes, my scepter is not heavy. Well, have you desires? It's just an open place in our quadrille after Captain Loewen, who has been moved to another garrison.
    -I am your 'infinitely connected', and it will be my great pleasure. So?
    -So are you going Friday evening 8 o'clock at the arena on their horse and ... preferably in uniform, she added with a suggestive smile.
    *
    Once I'm sitting in my little chamber, the same that I had during my school days, for I
still live with my mother: my precious beloved mother, who I look up to as my good
guardian spirit, but also on the most intimate terms with. For her, I have no
secrets, she is accustomed to listen to all my inventions and take note of all my dreams.
    But now it's something I sit and hide. There is something so new, so surreal, I can not
myself get a good grip on what moves within me. Our ride this morning in God's nature on the narrow forest road, where the horses have to press one to another for not going in the ditch ... what she was fine in her gray riding habit with a white veil fluttering in the wind ... and how beautiful she sat on horseback ... and I had to lift her down from the saddle ... Cecilia! Cecilia!
Rejoice and sing in me. Cecilia, I'm yours, do with me what you will, but let me
stay by your side until the end of life!

*
    Mother arrives.
    -Are you sitting with head in hands, leaning over a law book again - what is it my kid
Knight, you sits and broods over?
    -Over happiness.
    -Have you found it now?
    I think so.
    And it has met you ... under what name?
    -Cecilia.
    I see the mother jerks as in a feeling of pain, but I take her in my arms and covering her face with kisses.
    -Mother: you belive in me, - have always done. Have faith then when I tell you that no one except Cecilia can make me happy.
    Mother takes a while, then it comes as a whisper.
    -Must she!
    We are at the garden, she with a crone in her hair and a white veil that completely
encircles the lovely figure. She is pale, this hour may have grabbed her, the hand I
hold in mine is trembling slightly. She gives me a look that I do not quite understand - is it melancholy or happiness, cheers or pain, or is that all these feelings that storms on
each of her breasts? Then, she puts down her eyes. I stand on the threshold of the
temple of happiness, that my wildest dreams have built me, and though I now feel a trepidation that I never before perceived.
    The church is festively decorated and full of people in shiny parade uniforms and shining
dresses, a flock of bridesmaids and groomsmen standing in pairs in a semicircle behind us.
The organs festive march has died away and the priest reads wedding form. He asks: Do you
take him Fritz von H. to your spouse and to love him in sickness and in health?
    Cecilia trembling and could not utter a word, but the ceremony continues. The blessing is read and we rising from the altar as husband and wife.
    My mother takes us in her arms, her eyes are red with tears.
    When I am alone with Cecilia in the cart, she throws herself around my neck and crying, but says not a word.
    I felt anxiety, as if someone hugged my heart.

    *
    It's a few months later, on a cold winter day. I come from the barracks, hanging my cape and sword in the hall and hurries into our little home. Cecilia is sitting alone in
lounge and read in a magazine.
    -Good afternoon, love! It was nice to come home to you in the warmth again; I have
been so cold today.
    -Good day! she answered without lifting her eyes from the blade. It struck me a chill far
sharper than the one I had just been shaken off.
    -Cecilia! Have you not a kind word to warm me up with?
    I take her hand and bring it to my lips. She releases it slowly and look at me
with a look so cold, so repulsive, that I necessarily take a step back.
    Fritz she says finally, - answer me honestly - do you really love me?
    - How can you ask that? Do you not feel what goes on in my mind? Does not my attitude, better than words, show how I love? Rather, I could be tempted to give you that question.

    She was silent for a moment, then came it slow and as tortured.
    Who was the lady who greeted you yesterday evening at the theater?
    - What do you mean? I seem to remember there were several of our friends there yesterday.
    She was not of our acquaintances.
    Who do you mean? It would have been better if you asked me then- at once, and not so far behind. Now I remember no specific person.
    - We met her at the door to the foyer after the second act. She looked good, and there shot
a very warm look from her eyes when she answered your greeting. The eyes have
haunted me all day. Now I want to know who she was.
    -Ah, it was Miss von Plötz, actually a friend of my mother.
    -To your mother? She was younger than you! No Fritz, do not try to fool me. We women have a much awake instinct when it comes to tracking a rival.
    -I assure you ...
    -Ensure nothing, it would be best.
    -Cecilia! What do you mean? Will you ask me to inform you that I say hello to an old
familiar. However, it is almost too much.
    -Old familiar! The look said, however, something more.
    -Her mother was a childhood friend of my mother: therefore she sometimes comes up to us, thats everything.
    That's not all. My idea/feelings tells me that ... you have been in a more intimate relationship with each other, and I saw that she still hangs out at you with all her soul – is it not so?
    You know Cecilia, I feel it is almost beneath my dignity to defend myself against
an accusation which, even if it were true, is of such innocent nature.
    -Thus it is true, you have not been able to deny thereto.
    She gets up and goes with hasty steps a few times back and forth across the floor, then
she throws herself into a corner of the sofa and drills her head down into the pillow.
    -Cecilia! How do you want to interfere with our happiness in this way? Am I not more to you than that; then we are wretchedly poor.
    - Do you not understand, she sobbed, that it is precisely because I love you so much, that I
can not bear to share you with anyone else.
    - Cecilia!
    She answered not a word, but went with rapid steps and with nose pressed against the handkerchief, out of the room. I stood still and looked after her. - Was this the happiness I had dreamed about?

    *
    Another two years had elapsed during alternating sunshine and shade. She could
be so devoted and tender and then fortune smiled at me, but when jealousy’ demon seized
her - she was awful. As I was totally innocent of the charges from her sickly
made imagination, I could generally be relatively calm, but it just angered
her fragile mind to even more violent attacks. These scenes were for me an awful
pain. I sometimes could not endure, but left her on the long lonely
walking until the mind came into balance again. When I then came back, she could also be
happy and calm as if nothing had passed, but any agreement was never made - only a
silent conciliatory. And so everything went quiet again, until she again got an attack from her
suspicious temper.

*

    It was in the month of July 1870. The political horizon was obscured by heavy clouds and
a discharge could at any time expected. Cecilia did not believe it; mere possibility that
I could be commanded in a war was for her a completely foreign idea. Incidentally she
said she could never survive a long divorce from me.
    Now the mobilization order arrived. Within four days the regiment would be
prepared to pull to the French border.
    Cecilia was heartbroken, she wrung her hands, fell into hysterical tears and talked of suicide, if I were to go away from her. She begged me to take leave or
elope with her far away, where no penalty or infamy could reach me. I worked
restless night and day on what now was my duty, to mobilize with my squadron. In
connection with the mobilization, I had been promoted to captain.
    The few moments I had for my own person and my home, was filled with the most
conflicting emotions. How much I suffered, however, was the feeling I had for Cecilia yet
so strong, that even I with trepidation thought of this divorce, which I never a
moment thought of avoiding. But on the other hand, I was so upset by all the
friction between us, especially now in these hysterical attempts to induce me to betray my
duty, that I could not help but feel it was a relief when finally trumpet signal resounded to the breakup.
    My mother was calm and strong as ever.
    If I no longer get to see you in life, my boy, so take now my thank for the sunshine you
spread across my path. Do as male, faithful your duty, as you always have. God be
with you!
    Cecilia could not of her crying - utter a word, and I left her unconscious in my mother's
arms.
    Yet one last flick through the compartment window and I rolled away towards the unknown, gloomy fates.
    
    How could I choose to be a soldier, - I who feel like a creep right down to my toes when I
sees a wound or just hear about someone hurting themselves. But it's amazing what the
thunder of guns, the smoke and heat of the battle has the ability to numb the physical sensitivity - at least for now. When the battle is over, when the wounded were gathered,
when the mutilated horses had been killed, when the fallen are buried, then I feel like I was bleeding from a thousand wounds: then, neither the victory cheer or award for bravery shown – can mitigate the pain that tears and rips in my mind.

    Why should I have to go through all this? Why should I be required to
command shock on fleeing enemies? Has it not floated enough blood? The victory is ours,  a defeated enemy ought to be protected. But war is a refined cruelty; nothing
can stop the systematic slaughter. All human emotions are numbed, it comes to
dead or dying, and no doubt in the election.
    
    Battle of Sedan is fought, the French eagles are trapped and our troops cheer is
indescribable. But the victory has cost many sacrifices. Hospitals are full of wounded, and
doctors have a job that exceeds human capabilities. Many brave to die without having
received even a first aid kit.
    Myself, I lie in a field hospital badly wounded. The right leg is amputated just above
knee. A shell splinter has shattered knee and torn lower leg. A mild fewer appeared, but the doctor says there is no danger to life.
    Danger to life? I would have thanked him if he said that my days were numbered.
    Around me; moans and groans. New victims are worn out, they are laid on the floor with a
field coat for themselves, then of the beds are not enough. Doctors and medical soldiers are working, so that large beads of sweat wilt their foreheads. A death one, is carried out to make room for a new dying. Blood stains all over the bed and floor. An obnoxious smell of carbon fill the room.

I try to close my eyes to avoid seeing all the misery, but the whimpers and groans around me - and my imagination paints worse horrors than the real ones. I'm trying to sleep, but the burning the heat in my right leg keeps me awake.
    
    Finally, I am so restored to me in a ambulance train can take me home again.
    Home! The thought is hardly capable to inspire me any joy. It's like a little feeling told me
also home is amputated. During the seven weeks that have passed since I left my
home, I have only received two letters from my wife, both of little value - complaining doom
and nothing else, not a genuine expression of a strong and bearing feel. I have myself sent
few short pencil lines when the opportunity presented itself thereto. If my wound, I have not written a word, nor informed Cecilia about my homecoming. Now it was my re-entry
home in twice a surprise.
    Supported on two crutches I entered the salon. There sat my wife in so lively conversation
with an old man - my old schoolmate Rudolf Gerstäcker - that she did not immediately notice my entry. I bumped crutch to the floor. She uttered a cry.
    - Fritz! Is that you? O God, you scared me! How is it - are you hurt? - And then came
an entire stream of announcements and regrets.
    Rudolf looked like a caught criminal, he crept slowly toward the door, stammering
some words that he would not interfere again our seeing of joy, and disappeared without even having taken my hand to welcome.
    As the light of a flash I understood in a moment how everything was. My
wife had thrown herself in another's arms, my home was devastated, my happiness death.
    

    The next day.

Mother sitting by my side, holding my hand tenderly. What she is touchingly sweet
when she was in the most penetrating way, ask me out on everything related to the amputation, care at the field hospital, the trip home, and how the dear features reflecting the sufferings about which I tell her.
    Cecilia has probably also asked, but she has not had any response. The questions were to
come so close to each other that I did not even had time to answer them, her thoughts have been on elsewhere I suppose. But now sat mother and I on confidential talk, and still like in the olden days, when I was her loving soul who laid down all my thoughts; All my sorrow and all my joy, and she accepted them as treasures; them she wanted to preserve.
    -Mother, what do you know about Rudolph?
    -Nothing for certain, but rumor has had great deal to do with his frequent visits
with Cecilia. I have not wanted to listen unto less than spy on them, but ... well, you know
I always mourned over your choice, now I do it even more. If she is innocent then I
however, seen enough to know how little she may be for you and how little you mean to
her.
    Why could not that grenade been so friendly and hit a meter higher? The blind coincidence that leads bullets passing, is a capricious master. Or maybe it's not a chance, but in that case he is cruel, ‘he’ who is behind and pulls the strings, cruel when he killing and cruel when he does not kill.

- What I have pondered on the problem! I  had lust to fulfill what the cheater left undone.
    No, you must not, my Fritz.
    I can probably neither not: so long as you live ... But what shall I do? Here I sit like a cripple for the rest of my life, chained to her that in me only sees as a burden, she can not bear nor escape.
    -Have you ever really loved this woman?
    Yes, as I understand it, but maybe I have not a clue what love is. I'm to myself a mystery.
    - There you said a true word. I think you never really understood yourself.

    -Do you understand me, mother: so tell me what you know about my innermost being.

    I think you are like so many others gone in search of happiness but followed and entered on a wrong path.
    You mean that it is her exterior that blinded me?
    -Perhaps.
    And perhaps the vanity of owning this beauty?
    -Perhaps.
    Yes, it is possible, but I tell you mother: that she had come to me with just one ounce
of real tenderness, I had yet felt happy and able to build me a sanctuary of calm
seclusion with her and my books.
    I hope that you get a safe haven without her.
    What do you mean?
    -Do I know her right, she longs for freedom herself.
    
    Mother was right. One morning the chambermaid came in and told me that it must have happened Baroness something, because her bedroom was empty and the bed untouched.
She had gone out in the afternoon with a small bag in his hand and said that she would
come home at night, but had not been heard from.

    We lived so isolated from each other, met hardly other than at mealtimes. She
often went out without saying where she was going, and I put no ribbon on her. Sometime
she stayed away for supper - as she said - at a youth friend. I hold there-
for no heed to that she was gone the night before, but ... over night she had yet
never been away. What should I believe? It came over me a dreadful anguish.
    A bit later, my mother came up, she looked worried.
    -Where is Cecilia? she asked.
    I do not know. She went out yesterday at 6 o'clock without telling me goodbye and has since not been home.
    -Then she eloped with Gerstäcker, for he is also gone. I met his companion, who told me that he was missing at the office and at the request of his residence had revealed that he, without saying a word, gone off at 6 am fully dressed for a journey, and then not come back.
    -Then, they have taken the courier train to Vienna, it is 6:35. I have to go after them and bring her back.
    -Calm your Fritz! First and foremost, you can not make it on your own, hardly fully
restored as you still are. And how can you imagine that you would be able to track them in
the great world city.
    -My legs are now so good that I am doing very well on my crutches. How I will
find them? Yes, I do not know. I only know that I must try to bring her back, or else
she goes under. I know Rudolf - an unscrupulous wild man - he is celebrating her as long as the sensual intoxication lasts; Then he throws her away like a worn out garment.
    Has she well deserved else?
    -Mother, now you're tough. She is my wife, and after all what she'd done me to feel happy if she came back and wanted to devote to myself only a small degree of soreness.
And I think she would do it.
    -My dear boy, how little you even know her! She has never had any real feelings for you, and the little she gave you has flowed from its source, and has long since dried up. She
is dead for you - search not up her.
    - But Mother ...
    - Well, suppose that you could bring her back, is your own feeling strong enough to carry
yet another disappointment. Do not you think it would all end up in constant friction: that ye
only will poison the life of each other. Consider yourself well before you pull the responsibility of needs. In her fault you have no debt, but you pull a guilt on you if you again
seeking bind you to this woman that does not in any way belong to you and are already
gone away. She has her way to go, it is certainly heavy, but it is perhaps the
way in which she will find herself. Let us hope so.
    -But mother ...
    -Let's at least wait. Will she voluntarily returned so it's some hope of
her change of mind, but do not drag her by force into your home again, it founds
just a bitterness that you can never overcome.
    Maybe you're right, mother.

    *

    Weeks turn into months, months to years. Here I am shipwrecked and abandoned.
The only pleasure I have left is mother, but she is old and frail now, weary and no energy to go out. I may stumble up her stairs. What life can be meaningless heavy and long.
Will it then never end? Why should I have to live, just to loathe life? I do no good, and the little joy I possibly give my mother with my visits, are too scanty to justify life.

    I have a poison bottle in my chiffonier. Why do I not empty it? Am I afraid of
death? - Should I not be more afraid to live? Or I wait yet on anyone?

 - Perchance.
    Smokepipe and Rappo is my only companion. He puts his head in my lap and
looks at me with her brown, faithful eyes that he wanted to say: Do not grieve, you have me, and I will never leave you.
    I stroke his silky ears. Yes dear Rappo, you are faithful an ...
    Where is she now? Hardly by Rudolf. His banker business in Vienna did go
failing. Of course did not the brittle bond between them hold at the crash. Has she thrown
herself in the arms of someone new ‘knightly Bluebeard’ and basking in the glory of his gold, or has she started the journey downhill and prowling like a ‘joy-girl’ on the richly illuminated
boulevards?
    If I were to go there and spend my evenings to go up and down outside the most
visited variety entertainment ... Maybe I would meet her ... Maybe she would SINK DOWN down for my feet under the sense of her guilt. I would lift her up, call for a cab and bring
her home to my hotel and ... So, what would I do then? Would I dare to bring her
back to the home that she destroyed? Could I invite her arms she once abandoned and never longed for?
    But what if she sickens me her life, what if she longs to a sanctuary where she can get
hide. Well, what if she is an honorable woman, who trawls and working to sustain
life. I can see her in a skimpy costume work, then she urgent steps hurrying out from
factory, home to her little garret, where she is both freezing and starving.

 How many times she has not started on a letter to me, but it has always fallen into the stove. She is afraid of not getting any answers and even more to get one that contains a few lines of ice-cold scorn.

She would not be able to survive ... Alas, she does not know it is, how it cries
within me, how I too suffer distress. As I still can feel the pain in the legs I lost, I even feel anxiety in the being torn away from me. So I have been bound  and is still something close to the depth of her being.

When she went here and tormented me with her sentimentality and her superficiality, I knew not - however, she meant so much to me. Now, it has increasingly dawned on me.
    What does that mean? Is there among us a secret band? Is it true that some
mystic states; always two and two are made for each other and that they have to suffer to
happiness of a lasting union, since they were first made each other all sorts of evil? But it
presupposes a previous existence as well as a continuation - one hypothesis as
problematic as the other. No certainty, no reality except the moment nagging worries
and meaningless nothingness.
    
    Ever since I was alone, I have kept Wiener Tageblatt in hopes of possibly detect any trace of the fugitive. I read it with care as I do not engage our own newspapers; especially police reports; accident etc.. Now finally I have found something that
casts a terrible light on the riddle I go and ponder. Here is the former Banker
Rudolf Gerstäcker been arrested for forgery, but of her not a word. Now they may have been separated, if not before. Prison Gate have taken him, and she standing alone outside, perhaps sick and miserable - and I can not take her wounded soul in my care. What fate is cruel!

    *

    My mother died in the night. You dear expensive mother; deserve thanks for the warmth you gave me, for the you light thrown across my path. Without you, the earth was for me a hell, but you have borne me, and you have kept me going.
    Where dwell you now? If someone could convince me of the immortality of the soul, so is
you, mother. Your strong and warm spirit can not frostbite or dissolve the cooled
the dust incurred. You live - it is not possible otherwise. Shall I ever see you?

 A cripple like me, body and soul, I too hope for a continuation, or applies even beyond the grave Darwin's theory of the weaker’s destruction? Questions and nothing but questions.
    
    I hold in my hand a letter. Again and again, I've read it. It falls from its rows a flood of light over my mournful, gloomy mind. It is from a nurse in Vienna. She writes:
    "I have promised to present to you one last greeting from what was once your wife.
She has been here under my care - to the ending of her sufferings - it was cancer of the liver. As she has asked me to explain all that she entrusted to me, I’ve tried to – but  difficult - with a slightly detailed letter.
    It is now six weeks ago, she was registered at our hospital, where she got a place at the individuals room. She was very sick, not only to the body but even more to the soul. One of life's storms so devastated, I have never seen. And yet, she was still beautiful; eyes could radiate with a rare splendor and features had at times a weakness that one could hardly believe possible in such a furrowed face. She had a softness in its essence and a need to infer
Yes, that was touching.
    So repulsive that she at first sight seemed to me, however, I was drawn more and more
to her and ended up loving her as I have never kept of a patient. She was delightful sweet.
    At first, she was closed, almost shy, and never spoke of herself, but in proportion as we came closer to each other, she became more communicative, and I eventually got
her confession as complete as possible, and she hid nothing - and it gave her
also a piece of mind that she too well needed. Her tortured soul had peace before it took
leap into the great unknown. Peace, she probably also there - under one condition; that you
forgive her.
    And so you do - do you not? You may not do otherwise, I feel it, because I think I know you by Cecilia's portrayal of the man she once owned. Perhaps she was biased, but for
her you were more of a saint than the average person. How bitterly she regretted not all evil
she made you; feeling-sick, and the shameful jealousy which she poisoned your life with.
She did not understand how bad she was, how she thus only repelled the tenderness she
went deep and yearned for. She was not awake yet. In her mind worked great passions that she not herself understood and did not do anything to lead in the right track, and that
therefore took the form of hysterical cryings and other equally unhealthy emotional outpourings.
    So you pulled out of the war. It was your duty, but with her morbid view of the relationship you had in between, she saw therein only a sign that you feelings for her was extinct. She was contrary to the best she could wretch, to keep her own sense alive, but she had an unfortunate
needs to always be crying at someone's chest, and therefore fell soon in another's arms, and where she was lying.

She was too weak and he is unscrupulous, no love was on the either side. I do not know anything more tragic than the fate of women, which just to cry out the ambiguous feelings that storms in her interior, throwing herself into the arms of the first who gets in her way. And I know nothing contemptible than the male egoism that is serving of this helplessness for its low aims.
    You were too high-minded to claim the reckoning the intruder and she wanted you not bind
with other bands than those of devotion she could bear. She has since realized; when interpreted she s withdrawal as a refrigerant, and that was what she least of all could endure.
Poor Cecilia what she deceived herself!
    
    But you must not think that it was the reckless intoxication she left her home. It cost
her fierce fighting in solitude with herself, before she was ready to give way to the prayers
whereby the unscrupulous besieged her.
    So they traveled. He had brought his small fortune, which he loosened the track
money, and at first they lived a merry life in "the happy Vienna". But below the
delirious joy gnawed already a bitter regret for the past and a trembling concern of the
future. She tried to deaf these uninvited guests, but they did not allow himself SILENCE.

    He had started a business and therein deposited all his little capital. Within
a year he was ruined and fled without saying a word, without leaving a line behind him.
    Poor Cecilia! What would she do?
    Ideally, I wanted to draw a veil over the period that followed, but she has told me not to hide anything. Just as mercilessly as she exposed herself before me, she wanted me
would expose her to you. It was; she said, the only sacrifice she could bring you.
    Well, she had no one to support and help her, so she could not travel home
and - work, she had never learned, but she had a beautiful voice and looked good, and so was
she - perhaps more because of her looks than her voice - employment in a variety show. But
the ill-fated "landscape artist" brought with it a bohemian lifestyle, that seized her with rough hand and pulled her deeper and deeper into moral dirt. She had started this life
with the best intentions to keep themselves clean, that only work for a living and that when she managed to collect a little bit, pull back and live a quiet life with his colorful memories.

But she had overestimated her own powers. Character Weak as she was, and easy ‘lift’ of the flattery that rained over her, she dreamed of to be a great diva who could not be measured
with the same dimensions as other deadly and was not bound by the same moral law as the great mob - sophistry; with which she sought silence the inner voices.

    She was touching when she so there went to grips with herself and mercilessly pulled up
both her faults and his previous attempts to defend them.
    So went several years. She thought she was totally having overcome the memory of the past and had indeed, by boisterous orgies almost succeeded in silencing the accusing voice
within her own breast. But then came the disease slowly and insidiously. In the beginning, she felt the just like a stitch in his side, which embarrassed her when she was singing, but soon took the graver forms and she has to leave her involvement.
    That at one time relegated from the spotlight, the applause and the nightly drink beaten
their abhorrent final scenes for an enclosed, isolated out-life, the ever growing
physical torment: it was for her a staggering case. But it was the rescue. The memories came
and stood in line, she searched drive them away, but they came back more and more and more threatening, more and more and more insistent on settlement.
    She was in the bottom good and weak nature; she could not to harden herself. It opened her eyes. Alone with himself and her pain she saw everything in a different light.
It dawned on her how terrible she deceived herself, how she basically loved
you and never loved anyone else, how she longed to crawl to your feet in order to receive
cry out all her shame.
    Such she came under my care, physically broken, near death, and deeply devastated, but also spiritually prepared by the power of repentance so true, so honest as one which has opened the gate of heaven.
    I could hardly do to relieve her physical pains, but I'm happy to have been able to
give her the help she needed better, a heart for which she could open her. When
the end came she took my hand and pressed it gently. "Have thanks sister," she said, "you have been giving rest to my soul as thought-food. When I'm gone you will write to Fritz about everything I talked - you hear it - everything. Tell him that if  it is a life after this, I want to dedicate it to make myself worthy of his respect. My happiness depends on his forgiveness. "
    Now she is gone and has been so empty around me. She had so completely filled my soul that it felt like something of my own being taken away from me when they carried her out and hid her in the dark earth. Strange are death, what are you hiding that you can not destroy?
    My letter was longer than I originally intended and not free from my own thoughts; for
them, I ask kindly indulgence.

    Yours respectful
    Sister Beatrice.
    

*
    You supreme ruler over our destinies! I think that you and your government form is love.
I thank you for allowing me to experience the moment when I got the assurance that she is saved. Now I still biding the day you free my spirit bands. Thy will be done!
    

continues below…
    

Second book to open

This true, still more from a dictated message from the other side of death, is about (he writes later) …“a chain of lives, when I have been in touch with a  women, - having through all those lives, been my wife, and about him, who always wanted to steal her away  from me”. We fellow the persons here backwards in time, thru those earlier incarnations.

    
    I open another book and images come to meet me from another life on earth, my
penultimate. I want to try to catch them in some simple outlines:
    We're now moving nearly three centuries back in time to the late 1500s.
(From now- past the millennium – then more than 400 years back)

On a small farm in Savoy, (painting above) in one of the valleys leading up to Mont Blanc,
lived at this time a farmer named Littorello with his wife and two children, the
red-cheeked, dark-eyed Antonio and the pale little Viola. Littorellos father had immigrated
from Italy and settled in this region, where he started a small winery that produced good
harvests; until he son could transmit the small courtyard with its vineyards in
good condition and no debt.
    Here, I grew up - for Antonio it was me - in a good home, under happy circumstances
and in a lovely nature. My sister was two years younger than me. She meant a lot for me;
nothing was more fun than to roam up in the vineyards with her or;
when the sun was shining too hot, seek shade in the nearby beech forest. Father’s dog Leo was both – in the same time, our protector and our play-mate. His shaggy coat was our pillow when fatigue took its toll.
    One time we children were to go an errand for mother down to the district. I was then 11 years. There was a long road and we were kept up for a while to be offered food. It was already dark when we went on our way home. Viola was scared, but I went and sang to keep us both in good spirits. Suddenly we stopped. What was it that moved there in the darkness of the forest?

Viola wanted to run, but I held her back and stood listening. It sounded like crying and
sobs. I plucked up my courage and went in the direction whence the sound came. "Who is it?" I cried. Then came up a little girl, she could well be about 5 years. She cried so
that she could hardly get a word out, but this much I understood that she had gone out to
pick berries but was surprised by the darkness and did not find home. With time I received from her that her name was Anita and had home on a farm not far from ours. Viola and I took her in each hand, and we walked on.
    It was a starry August evening. When we had walked for a while - the moon came up above the treetops and cast magical shadows across the road. I remember what I fancy myself to be a hero, who had two young defenseless girls in my captivity. Much had we not to say to
another, for fear we were in a hurry all three of us. We hurried to come home, and Viola
encouraged Anita and asked her not to be sad. Now she herself had become somewhat
braver when she gave care for one that was even smaller and more helpless. When we came
closer to home, we crossed a shortcut through the woods, which I knew well. Here
we had to go over a creek that was a bit bloated from a few days of rain. Viola took off
socks and shoes, and stepped boldly into the water, but Anita started to cry and I had to carry her over. She put her little arms around my neck and pressed her curly head against my cheek. I was not little proud, when I put down my burden on the other ‘beach’ and kissed her on the cheek.
    It was my first acquaintance with Anita. Since then we often met. She and Viola became
good friends and I was knight for both. But childhood with its innocent games and play passed and we grew up, Anita into a light curly beautiful girl, I'm a dark-skinned strong
youth. Viola was pale and translucent, gentle and quiet, in all respects complete unlike her brother.
    When I had obtained the knowledge the small village school could give, father sent me to a
larger school in Geneva. "The boy shall not be as ignorant as his father was," he said.
His ambition was hoping that I would become a priest in the Catholic Church.
    But father soon died, and I was not yet 24 years old, when I had to interrupt my studies and move back home to take over the farm.
    
    - Where is Anita, I have not seen her since I got home? I asked one day my
sister.
    - She will be visiting her future in-laws, one man at Bonneville. Yes, you've  probably heard that she's engaged?
    - What do you say ... engaged? Impossible.
    - Yes, so it might be. The father must be very wealthy, and the son, who is
a young boy; has ‘turned the head’ of Anita with expensive gifts and pretenses
and the riches she shall receive.
    - But that's impossible, she has promised ...

    - Yes, I could see it was something between you and she; though neither of you have said anything.
- I can not deny that I was a little afraid of that party, because I do not think she is the one who can make you happy, but I've seen how you always looked for each other, and how happy you looked  when your eyes rested on her.
    - But are you quite sure of what you're saying?
    - Yes, Anita was herself here - it was shortly before the father died - and had her fiance with her, and it was so sweet between them.
    - God's cross! We will see about that!!
    - For God's sake - what do you intend to do?
    - Ask her to admit/inform that she’s let me down, and turn the legs of the scoundrel, if he
comes my way.
    - So, so, so, calm down now. You can do nothing about that.
    - It becomes my business.
    - And moreover, I would almost like to congratulate you to have been spared the
one who could forget you for that money-hunter.
    - You do not understand such Viola. You do not know how it burns my chest when I think
that another would ... No, she is mine, and my will she be, and there is no cure for it. -Do you know when she comes back?
    - If not sooner, she will be at her brother's wedding. You know Beppo shall marry
a girl from one of the neighboring farms? It'll be a great wedding early next
month, and we're already asked to come by.
    - Then, well he also… - what's his name?
    - His name is Arnold Schaffer; his family said to be from Switzerland. Yes, probably he will come with.
    - Good!
    - Dear Antonio, be careful! It is best that you do not join the wedding.
    - You do not know me, - Antonio!

    *

    It was a great wedding. Guests had gathered from all over the valley and even from afar.
The sun was burning hot. With bagpipes in the lead went the ‘wedding train’ back from church and whirled up a cloud of dust behind on the road. Now it would be fun and games in the main cabin on ‘Boissy.’

    What she was beautiful as she walked in the second rank among the closest relatives, with her rich hair in long blond curls around the neck and shoulders. Next to her, her fiancé,
this Arnold Schaffer; that I with all my soul hated. His costume stood out from our
national costumes; he wore ruffles that wretch, and in his hand he held a long ‘Spanish tube’ with gold buttons. Wait, you boy, we should probably talk before the party is ended.
    The wedding banquet is over. The wine-bottles has frequently been around and the atmosphere is excited and cheerful. Guests go out in the yard to cool off. I see Anita go alone up to the loft, I run up the stairs after her, into her chamber and twist locked the door behind us.
    - Finally I have you here alone - you sweetheart!
    Before she could say a word, I had thrown my arms around her, pulled her to me so
hard that she sat as in a vise and I pressed a kiss on her red lips.
    - What do you do? Let me go, she gasped and put a couple of frightened eyes in me.
    - What I want. It was a question. I want to own you. You are mine, mine and nobody else's. So you promised me, and I will demand of thee, though I will fight for you against the whole world.

She started crying and looked so helpless that I almost felt sorry for her.
    - I can not help it Antonio, she sobbed. I thought you had forgotten me when you
had not written to me for half a year. Then came Arnold and ...
    - And wowed you with his gold. I understand that. But now it will be the end of your connection to him, that shopkeeper, and so now- this day, you must understand. You have never loved him – have you?
    - Antonio! Have mercy on me.
    - It's just that I have when I save you from falling into the arms of that
dandy.
    - Antonio! I can not ...
    -Yes, you can and you must already now in this day tell him that ... that ... yes, he may go his own way, and you can tell him from me that he can be happy if he comes unharmed from here.
    -But Antonio ...
    -You might say that you love him? Then I say, it's a lie. You have never
loved anyone but me, myself  - Antonio, and you love me yet, you can not deny that.
    I had  like stormed almost feral, but now relented meeting, I stretched her arms towards
her and prayed with eye-looks and words:
    Come on, you are my most expensive! I want to make you happy, I will carry you on my hands.
    She fell into my arms, leaned her head against my chest, but could not of the sobs,
utter a word.
    Someone took the door lock and soon after were heard a knocking. We stood in silence. Someone took in the handle yet again. I went and opened the door. It was Arnold Schaffer. He measured me with a glance of deepest contempt and wanted to push me aside, and past to Anita.
    -No, sir, I cried, and took him by the arm a little harsh, Anita –you do you not touch, if you want to have arms and legs intact. She belongs to me by an old promise.
    He broke free and gave me a shove in the chest.
    -Out of the way Farmer! he roared quite pale with anger.
    But with a leap I was over him, grabbed him by the throat and beat him to
floor so that he fell with a thud, which surely was heard throughout the house. As soon as I got him down, I was calm.
    -Do you understand now that the wisest thing you can do is to immediately go away and never more show you here in our valley: it could bring you very badly.
    
        He gasped and groaned but could not utter a word. Anita had huddled in a
corner and hid her face in her hands. Some wedding guests came rushing in.
    -What's going on? What has happened?
    -Nothing, I replied calmly, while I got up and let go of my rival. It’s only Mr. Schaffer who suddenly become sick and must travel from here. I will help him to span the horse.
    I took him by the arm and led him down the stairs, out into the yard and down to the stables. He did not say a word, just glared at me with angry eyes. I sat on the horse and got
him up in the stroller. He obeyed me without the least resistance, but once he got the ropes in his hands, he struck me with his whip over my head so that my hat fell off.
    -Wait you, 'he shouted, we’ll hit again. And he went off as fast the horse could
run.
    
    It was a long time ago before I saw Anita. She had become ill, it was said, but also when she recovered, she did not show out. Viola, who was heartbroken over what I
done, sought her out, but only got tears to answer of all questions.
    I myself was probably a bit ashamed of my prank, but at the same time, I was fully
convinced of the merits of my actions, and above all, I was certain that it
was Anita's best, for she’d never be happy with that man. When some time had passed, we would marry and then there would be no further thinking of the story.
Even now, there were many, especially among the younger men, who thought that I acted
absolutely right. The elders shook their heads and called me "wild man."
    The worst thing was to appease Anita's father, a greedy old man, who having seen in grief, his dream of a rich son-in-law going down. But my plan was nearing completion. His and our vineyards bordered on each other, and he had several times requested to purchase a little good
fields that bordered next to his property, but father had always said no.
    A few months after where the wedding - it was in the fall just before the grape harvest – I went over to the old man, met him alone and began tentatively talking about the prospect of a
good wine harvest. He was very taciturn, and I felt all too well that I was not a welcome guest.
    - Yes, you get good enough, especially on the piece that is closest to us, 'he said.
    I stood completely unaware of this piece was better than the other grounds.
    - I hardly think so, 'I replied. The bit is too far from the farm so
is difficult to salvage. I would not mind selling it if anyone wanted it.
    The old man's face brightened.
    - How much…. then? he asked in a tone as he tried to stay indifferent.
    I mentioned a very low price. The old man's eyes as pulled together and I saw how it shone in the slots. Anita came in. She greeted awkwardly and was about to go out again when
the old man shouted at her to bring in a can of the best beer. The old man ment the price was still too high. The beer bottle had come in and I washed down his talk with good taste.
    - Oh, you say it dear father. Then I'll maybe lower it a little.
    Yes, would you settle for the half, I would keep it for a fair price.
    The old man took a deep gulp and stroked his sleeve the foam from his beard. The eyes
had become so small, so small.
    Anita had settled at the spinning wheel, but followed us very closely. She
understood what the issue was, it had been talked about many times before in this room. Now
she mixed up in conversation.
    -I think you would be stupid Antonio, if you got rid of the parcel. It is the best in the whole valley, usually father say.
    -Quiet, you do not understand such, said the old man.
    -But if I still would sell it, you have nothing against it, if your father get.
    -Top, said the old man, holding out his hand, I'll take it. And when will it be started?
he asked with a sly smile.
    -    just now, if you want. The harvest is yours.
    -Well, I can call a lawful business. And the payment…
    -That I want in the New Year, because I thought you were going to hold the wedding of Anita and me, and then I need to get some new in the house.
    Old man's face clouded.
    -I know it was you who got the girl to break up with Schaffer, and that I do not thank you
for.
    -But so does Anita, and you should also do so, because it had not been any luck
with one of those hawks, either for her or for the farm if he would one day
come to settle down here. He has money, it is true, but  he also have the ability to
”move them”, and it usually ends in misery. Were you glad I gave him the passport
from here. I had an earlier promise to Anita, and I do not let one of those dance champions
push me off.
    But you have never spoken to me or mother about it.
    -I do now, dear father.
    -What do you say Anita?
    I have always been in love with Antonio, but I thought he had forgotten me and then ...
    She did not finish the sentence, but came and took my hand. I pulled her to me
and kissed the beautiful bright hair.
    -Now you can see for yourself, Father. What God has united the people shall not divide.
    -Well, then, may God bless you then. He went to the door and shouted:
    Mother, mother came in, you hear!

    *

    Soon there after my mother died in a slowly debilitating disease. I was now the sole owner of farm and began eagerly to equip it to worthily receive Anita. The wedding was
exposed for Christmas. The only one, who was not happy, was Viola. She lamented much her mother and mother secretly went and mourned over my choice of wife. She and Anita
had never really understood each other. Viola was a still, binding nature with a strong
pronounced sense of justice. Anita was a moment’s child. Laughter and tears shifted more often than sunshine and rain, and her lively temper could easily entice her to small follies.
Maybe it was just her variable temperament that beguiled me, and probably also the beautiful
eyes that I could never see myself enough of.
    
    Now she was mine. The melancholy which had been on us and the whole farm during mother's long disease, now gave way to an exuberant joy and merriment. The local youth gathered happy with us, and went to the dance late into the night at violins and flute sound. But it was not quite the success I had dreamed of, and I did not get hold it in Anita’s heart as I
desired. She slipped away from me and there was never any real intimacy between us.
Moreover, she was irritable-tempered and did not take kindly that I joked with the girls at hands. She could however allow herself much as she would never have forgiven me.
    At one point, when we had joy at home and I had danced with the beautiful Lucia and
still stood with my hand on her, I suddenly felt a painful stick on the outside
of the hand. I jumped and looked around. It was Anita.
    -Why do you stick me? I asked.
    -It looked so good when you held your hand on her, so that I thought I would stick it with a
pin, she replied with a smile, which was as sharp as the needle.
    On another occasion, when we amused ourselves with archery - a common theme when youth came together on a summer day - Anita suggested that there would be a race to see who
was the best shooter. Everyone who wanted to could get three arrows, and the
achieved the highest hit rates should be called master and kiss the girl he liked/thought
looked best. It was the price.
    -Are you with me on this, both the boys and girls? Asked Anita. Now she was in her best
disposition.
    Yes, yes! It was a good suggestion, and everyone laughed.
    It was among the shooters a handsome boy named Andreas Käfer from the mountain.
He was known as the boldest and most skilled among the Alps stone's hunters, but he
was also very shy to girls. He shot three dots and no one could make him the rank
unconstitutional.
    He is the best competitor, cried Anita, come forward and take the loot of who you
want.
    He brushed off his cap and looked around but did not budge.
    -Well Andreas! - How is it going? - Dare you not? Cried the other boys in mouth of
each other.
    Finally he took courage and went right up to my wife, took her hand
and kissed it. But she took him by the neck, pulled him close and kissed him on
mouth.
    -You will easily have a real kiss, you have honestly earned.
    -That does not fit well. Anita is not a girl, one dared to object. Anita blushed
up to the hairline, turned on her heels and ran away.
    The whole thing was a very innocent play, but there was something in Anita's behavior that
touched me uncomfortable. I had a feeling that she arranged the competition with calculation,
it would go as it went.

    *

    A year had passed. It was still and quiet in the yard. We went and waited for Anita to become mother. It had been more softness her being, and she hung herself happy in my
neck to which she said, "to cry out her concerns and her happiness."
    I did everything to cheer and delight her and facilitate her work. This tenderness
touched her, for she was in the bottom of a weak nature, and she joined me more than before. But simultaneously could under the soft surface, certain hardnesses arrive - that betrayed how it sometimes simmered in depth. She was on such occasions not really himself mighty. I
wrote it on her condition, and was just so much more tender towards her. When she became calm again, she could reproach herself everything she’d said and did and ask me for forgiveness. Then she was so touchingly tender and sweet. On the whole, this was my happiest time. I felt that Anita was mine, that she needed me, she was fond of me, that I could be there for her support and the pleasure she craved.
    But our happiness was not long lasting. One evening, Anita had gone alone over to her parents who lived a quarter of an hour away from us. She was long gone and I started to get worried. Finally she comes in with urgent steps and terrified countenance.
    What is it, my love?
    I saw three men lurking outside here.
    -Did they do anything?
    No, they crept behind something when I arrived. It looked like they had bad things in the mind.
    -Oh, it's probably no danger. Did you recognize any of them?
    I do not know, but I just thought I recognized one of them, when he turned
around and looked after me.
    -Who was it?
    -Do not go out Antonio! I think it was him.
    My blood came in swelling. I grabbed me a cudgel and rushed out before Anita
could stop me.
    It was moonlight and a light covering of snow lay over the ground so you could see quite clearly also at longer distances. I went the same route as Anita had come, but I had not gone
long before I heard running footsteps behind me. I turned quickly, and stood with face to face with Arnold Schaffer. It shone a vicious fire in his eyes.
Behind him stood two men I did not know.
    -Now I have you, he roared. Now you get to the wedding feast, you rascal. Tie him!
he shouted to the men.
    -The first thing that comes close to me – I will break head on, I replied and turned
my cudgel.
    One of his henchmen took a leap toward me, and before the other could
come to his assistance fell my cudgel with such power over his shoulder that he sank
bottom. The second immediately took to flight, but Arnold himself could not escape. I grabbed him collar and flung him like a glove on the slopes.
    - Oh, you're with mercenary arms and want to bind me, when your milk fingers
too weak. That I will get rid of.
    He was more agile than I thought and came suddenly on his feet again, threw her coat and
drew a stiletto from his cane. It was a wild game, but I swung my cudgel more agile than he's
weapons, and the end was that I with a sharp blow crushed his legs. There he lay
could not move, but he was screaming "help, help" as much as his lungs could.
    I went home and said to my two farmhands to span for a car and drive the two
beaten to the inn in the village and then go to a doctor who lived an hour away
from there and ask him to come and join them.
    It was a sad story. At the hearings since joined, I had no witnesses
but my opponents affirmed all three it was me who attacked them as they come
peacefully walking on the road. They had either done or wanted to hurt me. Day
before they had come to the neighborhood as traveling and settled at an inn, and at a
walk in the evening, they had been assaulted and mutilated.
    Arnold Schaffer had right knee crushed, and the other had received clavicle brackish.
    Since the fight at the wedding feast was still fresh in the memory, I had the glow against
me. Whatever I insured did not: I was convicted of aggravated assault on a public road,
to one year of imprisonment.
    Coated with handcuffs and shackles, as a crook, I was removed to a detention center in
Chambery. Anita was beside herself with despair. Viola was paralyzed with grief. I clenched
teeth. The bitterness I felt was too large to be clothed in words.
    
    What time is long between the walls of the prison, the year I was in jail seemed to me never wanting out. And meanwhile germinated and grew bitterness in my soul. Sometimes I could crumble and beat me bloody against the cold wall, but there was no one who cared about it. After such outbreak, I was for some time lethargic and apathetic. My fellow prisoners were afraid of me, though I never did them any harm. My guardian hated me and kept me so severely they could.
The only one who showed me any kindness was a fellow prisoner named Pierre, who had been sentenced to ten years' imprisonment for the manslaughter of a rival. He was the most good-natured soul you could see, but only once had the hate-mind flowed over him, and he got it atone with ten long years behind discipline housing walls. The similarity in our destiny, brought us together and he became finally a real friend.
    Many months had passed without hearing anything from my home. What did I know happening out there in the world? My world was a dungeon that measured steps in length and
width. Was Anita dead, - had she severed all ties which was no longer her
worthy? Had she given birth to our child? Would I ever have it in my arms? Would
well even dare going back to our valley and my pretty little farm? The inmates was
branded for life. What could I take me to when I was free? - Gnawing tanks
that never left me in peace.
    One day in late autumn came the jailer and told me that a woman wanted to talk to me.
She waited for me in the anteroom. It was Viola. She had walked on her feet long
route to Chambery and after much fighting with the authorities finally received permission to
meet me.

Picture: Chambery- supposedly in the late century of 1800, - it means ca 300years after this story happened in this region.

- Antonio! Is it really you? Your hair's gray! was her first exclamation when she
got to see me.
    Now came in short sentences her story. Anita was dead. She had had a difficult and
premature birth shortly after the accident affected me. The child, a little girl, lived only
few days. Anita came up again, but was broken in both body and soul. She was melancholy
and closed, and laid no hand at anything. Viola, who, since Anita moved into the
mistress of the farm, considered herself redundant and lived a reclusive life in the chamber,  had then to take the lead if not all would be adrift, but this saw Anita with no benevolence, and the tension between them became greater than ever.
    - Did she ever to try to find me? I asked.
    - No, she was so strange. She could never mention your name. One time I said to
her, however, she should ponder that it was for her sake you got into that accident. "It was
not, "she replied." It was his violent temper, that I was always was so afraid of. Had he
not so violently broken into my life, had I been a respected and honored wife in far better
conditions. Now I dare not to look people in the face, they are pointing the finger at me, to my husband sitting in the prison. "I told her that it probably was not true, but rather think all sin about you because you got for harsh punishment. But she went weeping away from me without answering.
    - Have you asked something of him, the third one, which pretty much is owed to all
our accidents?
    - Yes, he once came to the farm and asked to speak with Anita. She was not home,
but I received him. He was on crutches, for the damage you inflicted on him had been
so severe that the doctor would have had to take the leg above the knee, which was far
crushed. This he told me during threatening tantrums. He would probably notice when you
be out again, he said. I said to the janitor to show him out, and as far as I know
he never met Anita. He traveled on the same day from the area.
    Viola talked about many other things that happened during my absence, but I heard
hardly at her, so busy was I by the words Anita made about me.
    - Oh, so could she say about me, I mumbled. Thus, I was nothing to her?
    - I think anyway that she in a way loved you, but she was so strange, so full of
contradictions. She had not woken up to the clearness of herself. But now she's gone and I
wish for myself to excuse her. Must also you be able to!
    - You may believe me or not, sister, but I tell you that I loved this woman, and
the one you love needs no indulgence. But, tell me, how did she die?
    - It is a sad story that I most wanted to spare you, but once have to
truth emerges. She became more and more gloomy and brooding, did not respond to speech, or if she said there was little sense in what she said. I think she was a little unhinged. An
evening she went out without saying a word and did not return. I searched for her all night
but without result. The next day found her hat down at the bridge tap, and some
days later she floated up a distance below the bridge.
    I sat as if paralyzed, unable to utter a word. Again a debt burden on my already
heavily burdened shoulders. Viola proceeded to tell me everything that happened, but I heard
her not. For me, it was so terribly hard that I now also had debt in Anita's death. How
she said: "Had I not forcibly broken me into her life so ..." Yes, it was my fault,
that was what brought both her and me into the accident.
    Viola tried to console me. With all the tenderness of her nature, she was also powerful, she tried to convince me the courage to start a new life when I came out again.
    - You have no more than 4 months to go, she said, then I'll come and pick you up,
and we two should have it so good together on our little farm - is it not so?
    - I'm never more to go to our farm, as much as you know. You may take it and
possess it as your own.
    - What will you then do?
    - I do not know. The wild animals have their dens and lairs. Well there is some
hiding place even for me.
    Poor Viola! She went deeply grieved away from me. Then I never saw her again.
    
    The more liberty hour approached, the more worried I became. Why did I not stay
and die within these walls? Was I then forced to go out among the people, begging for their
mercy and meet their contempt? What life can be cruel!
    The day came. The lock came off, the door was opened, and I had to go where I pleased.
    In the forest, the mountains, only not among people, it was my goal, and I
went as whipped by furies until I reached a relatively sparsely populated region. But with two
empty hands, I could not do much. Desperate conditions lead to desperate
things. I robbed and stole until I had equipped me with the tools and weapons and clothing
against the winter cold. An abandoned, almost ramshackle hut on a slope mountain pasture  became my first sanctuary. The wildlife was plentiful and I was a good archer so I did not have to starve.With flint and steel and a good ax, I did not freeze, but the loneliness, the
terrible loneliness, that  I could not stand. I had sometimes, just to get the look of
people, to drag me down to the village, begging for a bite to eat and hear them speak. It was
like music to my ear.
    In particular, I was seized with desire for seeing Pierre (his prison-friend). But how could I reach him? A request to speak to him would certainly be rejected, but coverage was not particularly string, maybe it could be easier than I thought. I plucked up my courage and walked down to the Chambery. I knew which window belonged to Pierres secluded cell. One dark night when everyone was asleep, I crept outside and threw repeatedly sand against the small windows. The window opened and from the iron-rods, was a head out sticking. It was
Pierre.
    It did not need many words sooner than we understood each other. By means of a long rod
I handed him a small highly hardened saw and a bottle of oil, and promised to return
every night until he was ready to run. Night after night I went there and heard the saw persistent work.
    Finally, the seventh night, I saw two grid bars give way and my friend to get out
through the opening. A more cordial embrace, I have never received or given.
    Now we were two, and life seemed to me suddenly worth living. I took Pierre to my
hut and initiated him into hermit life's hardships and horrors. He was happy to
find refuge with me, and we lived many years in perfect harmony with each other.
    But the joy was taken away from me. He once walked alone out hunting and
never came back. Several months later I found his half-decomposed corpse, strong maimed. Probably he had been beaten by bears.
    Now, I was again alone and heartbroken. I could not bear it, I grabbed my rod and
my bow and headed out on the hike. The parts unknown went my way. Sometime
I was able to meet friendly people, but mostly I was considered for a thief, and I
was in fact not much better. People shunned me and I  them.
Much of the violence generated at/by this time, was only an outbreak of bitterness that lay
germinated in my mind. I have no murder on my conscience, but well, I could go many times
furiously forward when I met a merchant or gentleman who treated me as superior or
scornfully. My stake has striped many backs both blue and bloody. It felt like a relief
for the internal tension of resentment and hatred I ever went and bore on. So it felt then. Later
I have often regretted my wild rampage.
    Years passed during this roving life. I was getting old and frail, my back was bent, my face furrowed, my head bare, the matted beard reached down on the chest. I began to long to rest for both body and soul.
   On sore feet with a repentant bleeding heart, I reached the monastery gate. The munk was a
pious man with a heart that felt sore for both spiritual and bodily distress. I gave him
my confession as full as my memory could. It eased my burdened mind, it was
like a heavy burden lifted. He put his hand on my head.
    - Poor brother, he said, you have suffered much, your soul is more scarred than your bloody feet. Stay here in the monastery. Mother of God chapel is a sanctuary, where the world's concern does not reach. Where you can add your agony down to the crucified’s feet, where you get peace.
    This was done. The cell loneliness, in the chapel consecrated calm, my spirit the rest I
pined for. And in the monastery library was opened to me a new world of ideas and impressions. A wonderful peace spread over the few years I still had on this earth. The stormy life I brought with me, vanished away like something unreal that does not belong to me, and when death approached could I jubilant feel and know that it was to a brighter life I now raised my soul and mind.

Part III

  
    We go even further back in time and open a book from the early 1300’s.

 It is written with a rough and difficult to read, handwriting on Old French, at any Provencal dialect. (It is a variety of Occitan spoken by a minority of people in southern France, mostly in Provence). The notes are brief and not very coherent. It would be difficult for a stranger to these fragments make up a full image of the personality whose life they portray, but to me, who wrote them, they are sufficient for the memory to recall the image of the inflated but in fact very insignificant Knight Templar, Bertrand de C., which not far from Avignon, had a fortified castle.

    It is strange now - after six hundred years - to look back on this ridiculous figure and know that it was ME. But he was not only ridiculous, he was hard-hearted, and it is a widely
severe ‘deformity’.
    The shimmer of ridicule I now find surrounding Bertrand’s person, was perhaps somewhat more which was due to timing conditions, than something rooted in his character. The dying
chivalry with its stilted dignity, their rattling tower rings, their though in poverty, brilliant parties, appears from our time and position as a childish attempt to keep alive a bygone greatness, which was doomed to destruction. But along with this external ostentation with chivalrous manners, there was a tyrannical domination of family and household and sometimes quite cruel oppression of subordinates. Philip the Fair had
although serfdom* was abolished, but of the landlords dependent peasantry was aspirated and
beaten in every way in more or less disguised forms according to the government
vacillating policy, as to sought support of the people or the nobility. *(Serfdom is the status of peasants under feudalism, specifically relating to manorialism)
    
         
    Boniface VIII was dead, (1235 – 11 October 1303) and the new Pope Clement V (1264 – 20 April 1314) had on the French king's request, settled in Avignon. It was now a battle between the monarchy and the self-filamentous monastic order, and the Pope was not slow to put himself on the king’s side. The order were repealed, its fiefdoms retracted, and several of the chief temple lords was punished with loss of life and property.
    During this time, I lived, but though I had my estate not far from
the dreaded Pope's residence, I was too small to incur any personal disgrace. My
little possession was not a big estate, but had been handed down through our family during many generations: therefore I was allowed to keep it. It was only my rank as a Knight Templar I was robbed, but it was - for my contemporary outlook - an outrageous abuse
without precedent.
    I want to try to take out a few pictures from this period: to connect them to a
whole, I leave to the reader's imagination.
    
    It's a brilliant tournament in Avignon. From Provence and Languedoc, yes all the way from
Auvergne is nobles and knights with great companions gathered to participate or witness the the Festive weapons play/ possession. The stands on both sides of the ‘knight track’ is crammed by ladies and older knights. In the middle of one long side is marshal the tribune. Here is also the ladies; that with her veil or her belt celebrates a particular of the contestants Knights, and primarily among them the beauty who has been appointed for the victory winner to transmit today's price.
    First held a jousting. Some twenty knights in shining armor and swaying
plumes rides up at each end of the runway and takes shape on the line. They pull their
cross-cut sword and salute each other. Herald blowing a fanfare, and the two contestants
teams approach each other only at the walk, then a trot, which increased to a gallop, until they are in a cloud of dust under arms smash, whimper and cry clashes together. It is a riot, where
hardly longer can distinguish friend from foe, all swirling together in a chaotic mass of
armor blaring over the hard-hitting swords.
    I'm in the game and wearing a green veil, as the beautiful Alice de Rochy herself attached to the my left shoulder, which she now sits as today's Queen ready to hand over to the victory winner his price.

I'm strong and agile and a wise in all knightly sports. Myself, no shall fell from the saddle.
    Again are heard the fanfare. The battle ends and the stewards declare that my team
took the victory. Those who have not got damage, will prepare again. From my team,  
by lottery two knights who must abstain from the play, because the number to be equal on both sides. A new clash with the same results. Personally, I felled two of my
opponents to the ground. High shouting and waving greet the winners.
    Now begins the play's second act, a duel between two knights, each team nominated.
I am one, my opponent is the famous knight Louis d'Aragon. We ride up, now armed with long wood lances, greet the ladies and one another, and stay on the fixed distance motionless as statues; cautious of the start signal. Fanfare sounds and
we ride at full gallop toward each other. My lance flaws and self, I get a sharp blow, as however, do not disturb me from the saddle. They hand me a new lance and I blow up again to seizures. A well-aimed blow to the chest plate on my opponent's armor raises him from saddle, he falls backwards to the ground. Cries, waving and fanfares, and I am the hero of the day. Several duels fought with varied success, but no one makes my rank fall; during trumpets blaring hailed me the winner. I brought up on the platform where the ladies take off my armor and attaches a robe over my shoulders. I kneel by the nice Alice, securing victory wreath on my head.

    It is an old tradition the winner gets to kiss the lady who gave him the price,
and I rise to the procurement of what I consider to be my right. Then she puts two fingers on her mouth, a clear sign that she refuses me her favor.
    - However, it is your veil I had with me, I say half offended.
    - So be it, she replies. I was obliged, in the place I had today in the lining; to
any of the contestants leave my colors. I have praised your strength, and I see that I did not
misjudge.
    Ashamed I pull myself back and full of resentment I ride with my little entourage, the
same evening to my castle.

     Some later:
   It is wedding feast of the Count de Rochy and I'm the lucky groom. I have
asked for Alice's hand, not so much because of any deeper addiction, but because I
considered it to be the most worthy way to wash the indignity I suffered at the tournament at
Avignon. My estate is admittedly small, but my ancestry so much higher, and the old
Count has not felt able to refuse my request. He has not consulted his daughter,
    The bride is beautiful but pale, the dark eyes half-veiled. I have not yet received
an open look, and hardly a word has come from her lips. But that I do not attach
me to, now she is mine, and we shall probably turn together the dance of life, when she has
overcome the shyness, which of course now mastered her.
    The wedding ceremony are held in the castle's chapel. When it is finished, I press my bride so hard to my breast – so she screams and falls powerless in my arms. But she will soon recover, and the party continues as if nothing passed.
    Among the wedding guests is a young squire, they call him Marcel, as so often
he can approach the bride. They converse busy with each other. I see it with grief and
feel a certain urge to take him as a puppy by the neck and throw him out. But
I mastered myself. I will not make me guilty of any scandal.
    The wedding reception, with meals and drinking bouts, with dancing and bowing, goes on for three days; The fourth I lift up Alice on the saddle and ride with my entourage of squires and squires home to my castle. She leans shyly at me but do not say a word. The Castel’s yard people and subordinates are bowing and greet their young gentry when we ride into it with flowers and with greens adorned drawbridge.
    
    My farm manager, the old Henry, complaining that the proceeds would not be sufficient for
the new household.
    - Have all properly paid their taxes? I ask.
    - Not all, sir.
    - Then let us take by force what is not willingly given.
    - In many of them there is nothing to take. The long drought last summer resulted in crop failure, and the plague has made many of the cattle die.
    - But for all, it is well not so bad?
    - Certainly not, but they sighs however, from the heavy decrees and asks for postponement.
The farmer Andrea is standing outside, asking to speak with your grace on his own and others' behalf.
    - Has he not paid?
    -No.
    - He has a good farm and several cattle: I know. But he is insubordinate and incites the other.
    Trustee does not answer.
    - Tell the executioner that Andrea should be given twenty lashes on the bare back. Then I
shall speak to him.
    - Lord, forgive me for telling you my opinion frankly as befits a faithful servant.
Such he was of your fathers men, a time when peasants were serfs - oh many a time have I
unfortunately myself been compelled to swing the whip - but now not granted such an assault, then our gracious Philip has made the farmer free. And would a battered complain to His Holiness Clemens, so would we maybe all get punished, for he is a strict master, who is the king’s faithful and standing on the weakers right.
    - God's cross! I think you dare preach to me what I can or should do. Has
impudence grabbed even you? You think your gray hair will protect you, but please beware
so not my anger also affects you.
    - you are welcome to beat, stern lord, if you please. God knows that I only wanted
your own good with my bold words.
    - Well, I suppose you have been afraid on old days, I think, it tends to be so. I shall
myself give commands of the executions.
    
    A moment later was heard Andreas cries echoing through the castle vaults.
    Alice comes in with a frightened expression.
    - What's the scream?
    - It is a defiant farmer who gets his deserved reward.
    - For God's mercy, stop. Such may not be, I know, and ...
    - do not interference with my affairs. Here is no one else but me to
command, so much you know - my noble mistress.
    I take her tightly by the arm and lead her harsh out of the room.
     *

Some later:
    There is feast on my castle. My father in law: the noble Count de Rochy with housewife and large entourage have come to sojourn his son in law and see his daughter's happiness. A whole roasted pig with apple in the mouth is in the middle of the long table around which we sit on benches, and wine bottles goes diligently around. A troubadour in Rochys entourage is singing a song to honor the memory of the persecuted monastic order. The violence and bloodshed, King Philip allowed himself against the Templars in Burgundy
and Normandy is portrayed with profound pathos. When the singing stopped, breaking out a stunner alarm. Most of the wine agitated senses gives vent to the indignation which had long lain sleeping in everyone's hearts. Man shouting into the mouth of another, "Down with Philip, the temple breaker, the robber! Down with Clemens, the hypocrite, the royal creeper! "Some rise and beat their swords against the wall hung shields.

    I myself am wearing my white temple dress with the red cross and feel throughout this
demonstration almost as a tribute to my own person, the only one here
represents the temple lords. In a haughty manner I get up and ask for silence.
I am no orator, but wine and high atmosphere gives me the words, and so I begin
depict the good that Templars done for God's glory on earth and to
emphasize myself as a worthy representative of the whole of Christendom extensive
words. I blew up my mind to a greatness, which impressed at least for myself.
    When I've finished it breaks out a new storm of clamor and clash of weapons.
    A horn signal heard in the courtyard and a while then enters a servant who
reports that a knight named Marcel de Veaux asks if he can get this shelter over
overnight.

    - Ask knight to enter. He is welcome in our team, I reply.
    He enters, lifts his plumed beret and bows courteously.
    Where have I seen that face before? Is not the young squire from my
Wedding? Yes, of course. My father in law has immediately gone to meet him. All rise and greet the newcomer. Alice, who always sat in the seat of honor at my side, rises too, but takes
her forehead and stagger: she is pale as a corpse. Two terns hasten and supports
her as she walks out of the room. The knight looks after her, but otherwise it's just not
any giving any importance to that house's landlady in a fit of nausea left us.
    The new guest is greeted with a glass of wine and the party continues. He explains
he had ridden from Avignon at dawn and have bad news to tell. The Pope of
King allowed to bring himself to sign an edict by which temple lords are
Repealed and all its fiefs withdrawn by the Crown.

    - No now have the right to wear the white mantle with the red cross, he adds
with a glance at me, a look of what I think I catch a glimpse of glee.
    This news raises a real uproar in the courtroom. It closes together in groups;
man screaming and hitting with your arms, you raging and cursing. It is an end of all order.
No one hears what the other says of the deafening alarm that fills the air.
    I look after the newcomer knight to get a detailed explanation of how
this passed and where he got his news, but can not find him. He's missing.
In the general uproar, he has gone out - perhaps to ensure his horse.
    I'm waiting, but he is not coming back. A suspicion grabs me. I start searching
after my wife. She's not in her room. The bridesmaids do not know where she's gone. I
scans the whole castle, but in vain, she is nowhere to be found.

    In the recreation hall, the alarm has stopped and the guests returned around the long table, where wine and trophies widely used. But the strange knight has not recurred.
I send a  man (a High ranking official responsible for overseeing the supervision of royal or princely court) - down to the guard room to see if he had been seen down there. After a while
he returned with word that the strange knight had just riding accompanied by his squire.
There arises a general astonishment. What does such a crime against the laws of chivalry; to
a guest who has been welcomed, leave the castle without saying goodbye to the castle lord?
    After a while, the man returns and whispers in my ear that they have found the
strangers’ knight's squire sleeping in the tower chamber designated for knight‘s
night shelter.

    - God's death! Let the saddle three horses and tell two of my best riders to immediately follow me out. We must capture the cheeky female robber before he got too big lead.
    There was a pitch-dark night. We had to return empty-handed.

     *

    Twelve years have elapsed.

 I sit at a small inn in Normandy, not far from Rouen, and washes down a meager meal with a little sour local wines. Host coming in, a stout man with small jovial eyes. I put to him my usual question, which I in all these years repeated in all the shelters, all cities around the country.
    - Listen, my friend, do you know any knight named Marcel de Veaux, who is said to have
settled in this neighborhood a few years ago?
    - What did you say his name?
    - Marcel de Veaux.
    - No, no such I know not, but ...
    - But, you say, you have perhaps heard of him?
    - No, but it occurred to me that it is very similar to the name of a nobleman who came here
to the neighborhood of - let me see - there may well be a ten or twelve years ago. But he was called Marcel de Valeaux.
It put the wind up me. Do I have you finally?  Haven’t you hidden better than that, when
you still would change the name?
    - What do you know about him?
    - He came here, it was said from Provence, and bought an estate, yes a really beautiful farm is it, and he has built on with towers and battlements and a moat dug around, so now
it is as beautiful as a real knighthouse. Money he had when he came here, and of money has
he always had plenty, he now takes them away, because the estate can not raise much.
    - Do you know if he's married?
    - Yes, it is so lord, for I have seen his mistress, and I say, that fairer woman
may be looking for. But she is pale and looks very sobering.
    On the right track: it must be him.
    - He is also sobering and bleak?
    - No, see - you were wrong. He is a happy and funny gentleman who never saves the coins,
but let them roll. It happens sometimes, when he is hunting, he makes my small inns
the honor to rest here for a while and drink a bottle of Burgundian wine with his hunting companions. Then is it funny here you may believe. Sometimes it happens enough, too - here peered my host with his small pigeyes, and pulled his mouth into a sly grin - he spent the night in the guest house with any little maiden as he turned head on, but if she had gone
here as a virgin, that shall I leave unsaid, hehehe!
    - Where he gets money from, you said?
    - I know nothing about that. It is said ... but one must 'do not believe everything nasty people says ...
    - What do you say?
    - Have cross, just nothing, and no words for me - here he dropped his voice to a whisper
- But enough is said that he makes the roads unsafe. Not around here of course, but in Brittany, where should not be advisable to travel alone, it said. Now he travels frequently in that direction and will be away for some times a month, sometimes more, and when he comes back, he's always in a good mood and then rich life at the castle, may know - with a feast and other luxary.
Therefore, once we've pulled our suspicions. If they are founded or not, that our
lord may know.
    - What's his goods name?
- It's called Evreux, located to the south a few miles from here.

*

 

My plan is completed. I have to dress me for woodcutter and go and seek employment.

*
    It's him.

*

My plan has succeeded: I am employed at the farm. Finally, the revenge’ thirst be slaked which have burned in me for all these years. I have seen Him right into the
eyes, but he has not recognized me. Her, I have only seen from a distance, she is tall
and straight, the same beautiful figure as before, but she wears her head a little bent.
    Now it is merely to suit the times, not to rush ahead with the risk of failure, but
also not to let an opportunity go out of hand. He rarely goes out alone, and
to his own room, I ‘ve not admitted. To sneak in at night is not so easy, as a
squire is always in the room outside.
    Days and weeks go by, and yet have not an opportunity presented itself. The dagger I carry inside my belt thirst for blood, and my soul cries out for vengeance.

     *

    One day, I am occupied with supporting the wood in one of the gaps, which tends to be
used as bedrooms for overnight guests. Just as I released my load in front of the fireplace will
Marcel in, goes to the window and looks out onto the plain. Now or never. I hasten to strike
rule for the door and stand behind him. He turns around and we stand face to
face.
    - Now you shall be judged, villain, because you robbed my wife from me.
    - Are you crazy man! he yells, but at the same he must have recognized me, for he
was white as a sheet in sight and staggered backwards.
    I grab a firm hold on my dagger.
    - Kneeling wretch! - And read your last prayer if you can.
    - Help, help! he shouts, but at that moment I hit the dagger his chest.
    
    His cry has been heard, no bolts on the door, I walk with a firm step and opens. It is
she - Alice - my wife.
    - What is it? she asks with agonized countenance.
    - It's me, Bertrand, your spouse, who took revenge on him there: who broke into my
house and robbed you from me.
    - Help! she cries.
    - Do not yell, I say slowly, I will not do you harm. In twelve years, I have sought you
to give him his wages, and tell you that I always had love for thee. I took you against your
will. At first, I was sick of all your crying, but I never violated your honor, and
those long years when I’ve on blistered feet walked around France to search for you. It's been
dawned on me that no woman on earth was so dear to me as you.
    Farewell! I now go and set me to steward. Tomorrow I’m dangling from the gallows. Then remember Me, I was the one who freed you from him there: he was not worthy of you.
    
    
  part IV
    
    We now jump over a book on the life on earth that went on immediately before the last depicted, not because it was unimportant for my development, but because it is not included as a link in the chain of lifes when I have been in touch with her, which has always been my wife, and with him, who always wanted to steal her from me. During my fourth life backwards figured, I was a lonely man, with DREAMY enthusiasm participated in the first
undisciplined crusade under Peter of Amiens (1050 – 8 July 1115)- and fallen, not yet 30 years old, in thebattle against Seljuq dynasty (listed as ancestors of today's inhabitants of western Turkey) in the plains of  Niceea, I think it was 1,095.
    But we look up next life, and find ourselves in Rome during decay times.
Imperial dignity had by tyrants and libertines, been pulled down to be an eyesore
the noble Roman people, a power that was maintained by cruelty and violence of
all kinds and who surrounded himself with creeping adventurer and willing executioners. Its
protection guard against external aggression, was the Praetorian Guard, who certainly held true guard of the emperor's person, but many times themselves took the power in own hand, removed a unpopular ruler, and put their own favorite on the throne.

   Constant battles with varied luck was against the great Roman Empire
neighboring peoples, the Picts and Scots; Germans and the Burgundians, and those from Asia advancing Huns. War was the spirit of that times, and human life had little value.
    During this time, in the middle of the fourth century, I lived Rome, or rather, I
was born in Rome, but performed as a recruit Roman legionary a wandering life. I was
with the army under constant feuds now here, now there. For long times, we could, however, be steady in large field camps, where we had a comparatively quiet life, had better housing and made surrounding with fortifications.
    In such a field camp in Gaul begins the part of my story that I have shared
with her, so deeply intervened in my destinies. I want out of this life that tell only a
little episode. For shown bravery, I had advanced to commander of a cohort (= it was a
basic tactical unit of a Roman legion after Gaius Marius reforms 107 BC.), and with this I was lying as the
Watchkeeping at Rhone, not far from Lugdunum, now called Lyon. Claudius was my
name.

    One day an old local farmer came and begged me for protection against a band of robbers
that for long had raged in the forests to the west. During the past year, they had first stolen his horse, and then even abducted his only daughter, 20-year-old Livia, and yet they had not found any trace of her.
    It belonged not indeed directly to my mission to keep after the robbers who did
neighborhood unsafe, but the adventure attracted me. I fitted a small crowd for this
expedition and took myself in command of the same. With the farmer as guide, we went on
search of those peace-disturbers. It was especially the large regions towards Avaricum
(Bourges), which proved unsafe. There had several assaults occurred on traders with carriages, and onto single passers.
    I let some of my people disguise themselves to go in distance in front, hired some big rattling carts and went with them the way forward, but inside the wagons was I and the rest of my squad hidden. My list was crowned with success. One night we were attacked by a handful of robbers rushed out of an ambush. But before they had time to us harm, were they overpowered and tied. The thing now was to find out their haunts.

    I picked out one of the prisoners as guide and told him in the presence of others, that
if he showed us the right path to their nest, he would get freedom, if not, I would
with his severed head turn back to the other prisoners and choose another to follow
Me, all with the same penalties and risk. He thought apparently lead us astray; finally
he was himself confused, and the bluff cost him the life. But his severed head put fear into the other prisoners, and the next I chose as guide led us through narrow valleys and wooded areas where we never have been able to find the way, until reaching the robber’s camp. It surrounded and after a short battle which cost a couple of our opponents life, they were overpowered and tied behind their backs. Only one of them, who kept watch at the entrance of a cave, struggled yet with superhuman strength against two of my men, one of which  already bleeding from deep wounds.

I hurried to and arose between us a duel that ended with I felled him dead to the ground. I myself was, however, badly wounded and was worn by my men into the cave to be connected. Here we met a strange sight, lighted from an opening in the roof of the cave.
Huddled against the rock wall sat an elderly woman, and a few half-grown children, only
wrapped in miserable rags. Behind some stacked barrels sat a young woman with
frightened countenance. A goat and a couple of kids ran bleating about.

    The farmer, who followed us all the time, came into the cave, found his daughter behind the barrels and screamed with joy. She fell on his neck and wept.
    The old man, who was a little skilled in medicine, bandaged my wounds, a deep cut in the left arm which, however, was not of dangerous condition. His daughter helped him. She tore off her underwear a long strip and erected with much affection and habit a dressing so that
blood stopped. Apparently it was not the first time the old man and his daughter nursed
wounded people.

    She was so captivating, the beautiful Livia, where she was leaning over me, busy with her
tender care. Her black curls fell on my chest and on my arm, I felt the warm breath from her mouth. It was an indescribably pleasant feeling to lie so there powerless and enjoy her care.
    So I was taken by invisible powers, for the first time, together with the woman who
for several coming lives would intervene so deeply in my destiny. Even him who lay
death outside of the opening of the cave, I would meet again, life after life, as my - after revenge - thirsting rival. How little did I know that time of this, when I was nursed.
    
    That I was married to Livia, and with her lived many happy years, first in
our field camp at Rhåne and then in Rome, where I after some time was called to be, is all I
further have to say about this incarnation.
    No, not all. I can not forget to mention that I in this life had a mother that I was much connected to. She had nursed me thru childhood and youth with a love and tenderness that even today, a millennium and a half later, can make tears in my eyes. She was close to despair when she heard that I had enlisted and be sent out into the war field. So much happier she was, when I came back again and had to stay in Rome. But my wife she could never learn to understand. Very different was the also their temperament and disposition. My mother was still and smooth, she was like a lake that does not upset by any storms, but always reflect the sky. My wife, however, was of a lively and edgy humor, but so she could also be so captivating sweet, so tender and loving. She was the rushing river at times throwing cascades of foam, but between that, could be deep and clear. It was however, not only this difference that caused the distance between these women. I
felt at times as if my mother did not really wish any else to steer me.

    My own dear mother! - Even her, I have seen/met again, first as my sister Viola
in Savoy and then in my last earthly life, when I once again had the good fortune to be born as her son.
    Still one word. I was happy with Livia. Actually, was this my first intercourse with
her, happier than any of the following. There was only one dark spot between us as
never was cleared up. It was her life in the cave with the man I killed outside the cave. She never wanted to talk about that time. If I tried with my questions to penetrate into this mystery, she became silent, but her eyes shot fiery flashes out against
something strange that the memory evoked. Whether it was love or hate in this gaze,  
I could never fathom.
    
    
  V
    So far I have only portrayed my walk on the earth during various periods: not mine free life in the world that lies above the Earth, the world in which I now find myself. And it could be written a book many times larger than this small, but I have not dared that task. I feel that it would exceed my ability to give an true or real corresponding image, of the rich life I here between my earth lives, have undergone. A life also of painful self-examination, of interesting studies, the dedicated work by my small forces, in the service of good. Others can do that better than I - as I've seen too difficult. I must forbear that.

    But not quite. It is a small, recently experienced event, a meeting, I would describe as a conclusion to my story.
    After each ended earthly life, I have always, as soon as I furthermore have had occasion, visited her – in spite of all what we have done to each other of evil, however, have become a part of my own being. Here in our TRUE homeland, we have, better than on earth, been able to understand each other. Here we have could closer to each other, here we have promised each other the faithfulness, loyalty, the fidelity - that on the earth proved to be so fragile.
But we had before our last earth lives, never yet had an opportunity to overlook and watch together - all of our series of lives. It was only the very last that was the subject of our “thought- exchanges”.

    Since I finished my last earthly life, I was taken by my guardian spirit and leaders here in to this archive - where so many individuals, and I, among others, have gathered our “notes” over past lives, and now he (the guardian spirit) gave me the key to all of them, many more than those I outlined here.
    In the crisp lighting of this self- look, I also have this time completed the embarrassing
but instructive duty to describe my past life - not just the sketchy outline of
external events such as this one, but a detailed examination of the motives, thoughts and
emotions; weak and betrayed duties; of intentions and failures.

 When it was done, I asked to seek up Cecilia – as I now longed violently
after her.
    But I did not have to search, it was she who came to meet me. Although she had also
longed to see me, and when she knew that she had not bothered me in my work, she came
with a touching shyness and greeted me.

    I omit her penitent confession of everything that was about her flight and her
gradual debasement and the depiction of her final illness in the hospital in Vienna. She
had suffered herself free from these gloomy memories, and was now the happy and beautiful character, as I remembered her from her best moments during the four life we wandered
together on earth. She was so adorable sweet: it was as if all of the innocence that has been
supplanted on the bottom of her soul now came forth, as the passions was let out and so burn all that had prevented her spiritual growth.

Now I felt that we belong to each other for time and eternity, now "the third" no longer needed to interfere in our relationship. He was forever removed, he had fulfilled his duty towards us, to be the means (karmic tool) by which our senses hardened themselves clean and strong.
    Since we now for long and familiarly talked about all the details from our last earthly life, I opened for her the book about our earliest life together on earth, then I was Claudius and she was Livia.
    Memories, as in her legacy had been deeply buried, now showed up and took shape. She watched the Bandits assault on her father's farm and his own shameful captivity in the cave.

    - Tell me, Cecilia, something I never understood, I said,  did you feel something different and more for this man, merely than the hatred that was so justified?
    - Then I was not powerful enough to find way of conflicting emotions that stormed into my
breast, she said, but when I now scrutinize them - some more than 1500 years later, I would like say, that he Gallic robber with the strange deep eyes, the tight shut mouth and the protruding nostrils - I see him so clearly to me - had a marvelous
alluring power when he wanted to use it. It is said that snakes have such a magic power in their eyes - that they may have small birds to fall into their open mouth. Some of this fascination might was what he possessed, - he Lotar. Just with his eyes, which at times could be tender and caressing, sometimes threatening imperious, he got me to anything. I was completely under his fascinating influence as long as I was in his presence. And the
remarkable thing was that I might as well, when he took me to his chest, felt something of the
intoxication as the child of nature so easily understood as love luck. But he was not well out
my sight until I was seized by a lead and loathing that bordered on hatred. How terrible I then felt, you can not imagine. The tragedy of my predicament was that I knew how I would come to tremble before his eyes, when he re-appeared, and how I would crave for a tenderness, and even after a stroke of him. Only not his indifference, it could bring me into despair.

    If he stayed long gone, then grew my hatred for this man so that I thought myself in a position to assassinate him when he came back, but when he re-entered in his miserable hut and threw his coat for me, I took it in my arms, turned and kissed it, so no one saw it.
    When he was gone, I was so closely guarded that an escape then had been impossible, but when he was at home, I noticed that watcher over me was retracted. It had not been necessary, he felt his magic power over me.
    So I lived in nearly a year in the most terrible friction between emotions; whose right value not I could appreciate. I should be a mother and the thought filled me sometimes with joy, then of despair, but the children I gave birth was malformed and died shortly after birth. I have my suspicions that Lotar strangled his little son.

    What I at all times, and especially during my illness, suffered by the other and
her half-grown children, I do not want to talk about. She had been beautiful, but she was several years older than he. Now she was overlooked, tucked, despised, a victim to all the bitterness, a woman in her position is to entertain. She had her unique sleeping in another and more narrow cave, but the days she walked in and out of that which would be called my home. O’God, what a humiliation and disgrace I lived in!

    At last you came, my liberator. I sat in a corner and heard the sound of swords; my whole being shook  in the most dreadful anxiety. What would happen now, would I be dragged out and killed? But then they carried you in, and so came my father. I was saved. It is wonderful how living this critical moment etched into my memory, it's so that I can still shake with fear when I  think about it.
    - We then lived long happy years together, I said, but you never wanted to hear me talk on him -  Lotar. If I ever asked you about him, your eyes shot lightning. Can you remind you what you thought at such times?

    - It was so strange, it came upon me a fear that he would not be dead, that he could come back and get me, and I fought already within me against the submission which I felt.
    - He also really came to pick up. See here.
    I opened the next book and read to her descriptions of Bertrand and Alice's life in
Provence.
    - It's funny how I always forcibly is torn between both of you, she said after a moment.
I never got to be myself. When you against my will, yes without even asking for my consent, took me as bride and carried me away to a foreign place, you choked something within me -  as if it had been in calm and happy circumstances; had been able to grow up to the warm feeling for you as was lying sleeping in my being. Now it never came out to bloom. Pale and haggard as a herb, which grows under a fallen log in the woods, marked of the pressure it carries. When Marcel came with the glow in his eyes, it was he who was theliberator and I fell into his arms in the old rock cavity in Auvergne.

    - Yes, that time it was my puny arrogance that ruled me so blindly that I thought me be the irresistible, that only needed to see me in my chivalric glory and my chivalrous manners to all resistance would succumb to. Your refusal to kiss the winner at fight/combat in Avignon, was a deathblow to my imaginary greatness, but in my simplicity I seemed to heal the damage by forcing you to be my wife, without asking about your desire. I needed a stronger lesson and I got it, then you are in the midst of festival frenzy let yourself be carried away by a road knight. Now awakened in me something of my better self. True, it was such a low esteem in retaliation desire that drove me to that,
but I then entered the pilgrimage to seek you; - then swept within me to move away all
conceited dreams of my knightly honor, it put me so to speak, back on track. I found
you too, and I quench my thirst for vengeance.

    - Yes, blessed be you for the effort. You should know that there was a hell, you that
time saved me from. The old thief sat still in him, he robbed and he
desecrated, but now had thereto come up something disgusting in him - he drank ... It was - thus - the second time he fell for your hand.
    She sat silent for a moment as if she was pondering over something.
    - Did he not thereby got a power to hurt you in the next life, for you met again
after what you just suggested.
    - Hardly. He laid plans for my life, but had not the power to pursue them.
   Now I read to her from the 3rd book of our lives in Savoy, where she was Anita and I
Antonio.

    - Yes, now I see the entire picture- collection from this time, to show past my mind's eye, she said. Although there you took me against my will, but you saved me also from him, as then tempted me with his gold. His former lust,  he had by his former vicious life lost.
How little I knew then, to appreciate what you were for me. The force you used against me, the person, I promised my faith, aroused in me a defiance that I never felt before. I followed you because there was something in me that drew me to you, but my inclination and my despite was in constant dispute with one another. It was a broken life I took, and then since the accident hit you, I was so terrified that I was hardly accountable for my actions.
I had not the courage to face you again, because of that, I took my life.

    - Yes, it's bleak memories we have from that time. But what me concerned, I think
I understand the providential’s purpose in the disapproval fate that then hit me. I had
through the many misdeeds of my previous life/lives, sustained to me these sufferings, but they got me also useful. First in the prison time, then the long loneliness in the wilderness and finally the beneficent stillness of the monastery, enabled a breakthrough in my character. The tough, the wild, the pugnacious in me,  had played out its role, and gave way to a more introspective contemplative life. I became more sensitive to the sufferings of others, and my vision was opened to the beauty of nature, and I have especially the forests silence for this to thank. It was as if the scents of herbs and trees had healed my wounds and drove out the bitterness that lay gnawed my life -root.
    - Yes, you was much altered, when we met the last time, but Anita had no spiritual treasures to give as an inheritance to Cecilia. The only thing she brought was a sickly almost hysterical temperament, which from what I now understand, was the natural consequence of my desperate act to take my life. Additionally, in me woke the old defiance again. I had a vague feeling that I never really got to be myself. This time I had still voluntarily made my choice, but once I was bound, I felt like a fetter compulsion that I was ready to shake off. You were tough and over-affectionate, but with me had vague feelings and hidden instincts awakened, who demanded to test their strength. I dreamed of to crumble my own mind and I got it.

When you went off to war, it was as a band had released, I imagined that your feeling was burned out, you should seek and find death on the battlefield - well, what could not my mind find  of hysterical imagination. When then the tempter came, this time as the consoling friend, went to my tearful cheek against his breasts.
    But Fritz, you dear, the course I then had to undergo has healed me completely. I
feel it. The humiliation I lived in was a hard school, but it has opened my eyes
both "the third’s" true nature and for my own being flaws. But even more, they
has shown me what treasure it was I left when I threw myself into the hands of robbers: it has
showed me the way back to you, you are my only love. Let me follow you. Now, willing and able I make you happy.
    - Cecilia, you know what I think. You are my dual spirit, my soul mate.

   The end