As he put these queries to himself his glance fell upon a bit of gilt paper that lay glittering on the ground in front of him.  But his mind was not on such things now.  This must have been one of the paper stars he had borrowed of Mad Ingeborg.  But he had not given a thought to this empty show since last autumn.

It kept getting hotter and hotter, and it was becoming more and more difficult to breathe.  “The end is nearing,” thought Jan.  “Maybe it’s just as well it wasn’t too long coming.”

A great sense of lassitude came over him.  Unable to sit up any longer, he slipped down off the stone and stretched himself out on the ground.  He felt it was hardly fair to Katrina not to let her know what was taking place.  But Katrina had gone to the seine-maker’s party and was not back yet.  If he only had the strength to drag himself thither!  He would have liked to say a word of farewell to Ol’ Bengtsa, too.  He was very glad when he presently saw Katrina coming down the lane, accompanied by the seine-maker.  He wanted to call out to them to hurry, but not a sound could he get past his lips.  Shortly afterward the two of them stood bending over him.

Katrina immediately ran for water and made him drink some; and then he got back just enough strength to tell them that the Last judgment was at hand.

“How you talk!” said Katrina.  “The Last Judgment indeed!  Why, you’ve got fever, man, and you’re out of your head.”

Then Jan turned to the seine-maker.  “Can’t you see either that the firmament is sinking and sinking?”

The latter did not give him any reply, but turned instead to Katrina, saying: 

“This is pretty serious.  I think we’ll have to try the remedy we talked of on the way.  I may as well go down to Falla at once.”

“But Lars will never consent to it.”

“Why you know that Lars has gone down to the tavern.  I’m sure the old mistress of Falla will have the courage—­”

Jan cut him short.  He could not bear to hear them speak of commonplace matters when such momentous things were in the air.

“Stop talking,” he said.  “Don’t you hear the last trump?  Don’t you hear the rumbling up in the mountains?”

They paused a moment and listened, just to please Jan.  And then they, too, heard a strange noise.

“There’s a wagon rattling along in the woods,” said Katrina.  “What on earth can that mean?”

As the rumbling noise grew more and more distinct, their astonishment increased.

“And it’s Sunday, too!” observed Katrina.  “Now if this were a weekday you could understand it; but who can it be that’s out driving in the woods on a Sunday night?”

She listened again.  Then she heard the scraping of wheels against stones and the clatter of hoofs along the steep forest road.

“Do you hear?” asked Jan.  “Do you hear?”

“Yes, I hear,” said Katrina.  “But no matter who comes I’ve got to get the bed ready for you at once.  It’s that I have to think of.”