A heather-clad hillside with a path following the windings of the ridge.
Peer.
This may come in useful in many ways,
Said Esben as he picked up a magpie's wing.
Who could have thought one's account of sins
Would come to one's aid on the last night of all?
Well, whether or no, it's a ticklish business;
A move from the frying-pan[1] into the fire;—
But then there's a proverb of well-tried validity
Which says that as long as there's life there is hope.
A Lean Person in a priest's cassock, kilted-up high, and with a birding-net over his shoulder, comes hurrying along the ridge.
Peer.
Who goes there? A priest with a fowling-net!
Hei, hop! I'm the spoilt child of fortune indeed!
Good evening, Herr Pastor! the path is bad
The Lean One.
Ah yes; but what wouldn't one do for a soul?
Peer.
Aha! then there's some one bound heavenwards?
The Lean One.
No;
I hope he is taking a different road.
- ↑ Literally, "the ashes."
