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Updated: May 29, 2025
Their only comfort in their distressing situation was the fact that he, Mr. Theodore, was one of them. It was not clear to them why that fact should be a comfort, but they knew intuitively that no evil would happen to the son of a professor. "Come along, Wennerstroem," said the minister, after he had lighted the gas in the vestry. Wennerstroem went and the door closed behind him.
"I wonder how it will end," thought the brother in his barracks. "I'm afraid that my poor Theodore is 'one of those Asra who die when they love." Theodore Wennerstroem was married. Nine months after the wedding his wife presented him with a boy who suffered from rickets another thirteen months and Theodore Wennerstroem had breathed his last.
The young clergyman silently compared her well-developed figure, her large hips, with his own wasted body. "What a difference there is between human beings in this world," was his unspoken comment. In the autumn the Rev. Theodore Wennerstroem and Sophia Leidschutz, spinster, were engaged to be married. "Saved!" sighed the father, when the news reached him in his house at Stockholm.
It was as if a drain had been left open and men were suddenly reminded that the town, that splendid creation of civilisation, was built over a sea of corruption, which might at any moment burst its bonds and poison the inhabitants. It was said that Theodore Wennerstroem, in a paroxysm of passion had assaulted one of his friends, and the rumour did not lie.
The four remained seated on their forms, vainly trying to discover a comfortable position for their limbs. After a while Wennerstroem returned, with red eyes, trembling with excitement; he immediately went down the corridor and out into the night. When he stood in the churchyard which lay silent under a heavy cover of snow, he recapitulated all that had happened in the vestry.
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