Book 3 The Land of the Long Shadow Chapter 33

"The body is the storm; 
The soul the star beyond it, in the deep 
Of Nature's calm. And, yonder, on the steep, 
The Sun of Faith, quiescent, round, and warm!"

Late on that same night, the pious Ulrika was engaged in prayer. Prayer with her was a sort of fanatical wrestling of the body as well as of the soul,--she was never contented unless by means of groans and contortions she could manage to work up by degrees into a condition of hysteria resembling a mild epileptic attack, in which state alone she considered herself worthy to approach the Deity. On this Occasion she had some difficulty to attain the desired result--her soul, as she herself expressed it, was "dry"--and her thoughts wandered,--though she pinched her neck and arms with the hard resoluteness of a sworn flagellant, and groaned, "Lord, have mercy on me a sinner!" with indefatigable earnestness. She was considerably startled in the midst of these energetic devotions by a sudden jangling of sledge--bells, and aloud knocking--a knocking which threatened to break down the door of the small and humble house she inhabited. Hastily donning the coarse gown and bodice she had recently taken off in order to administer chastisement to her own flesh more thoroughly, she unfastened her bolts and bars, and, lifting the latch, was confronted by Valdemar Svensen, who, nearly breathless with swift driving through the snow-storm, cried out in quick gasps-"Come with me--come! She is dying!"