Perpetual Damnation

Dolman was in a tavern, alone as usual, when a man came and sat beside him and ordered the same as he did. The man, after drinking two glasses of Purl, looked at Dolman. His eyes were hollow and full of remorse and shame.

"Do you know, sir, that people in this town think I'm insane?" He waited for his companion to reply, and when he didn't, he started to talk again. "It is, my dear friend, a curse; a tyranny of a will other than one's own. Sometimes I look just fine, but my curse is always there, and when I sometimes start to think it's finally gone, it strikes again just like the first day. It is a torment within me; a scourge smoldering like burning coals beneath ashes. I was thinking time would be my remedy, but now I have lost count of the years, nay decades, of torture and pain. I tried to extirpate her from my mind, to despise her, as I had thought that would finally heal me, but I couldn't. A man can never loathe an angel. "Do you know, my good sir, that I have started going to church? Yes, I have turned to God in genuine repentance, and I am now a pious man. Do you know why I go to church, sir?"

The man, without waiting for a response or looking at Dolman, continued, "I do that for her, sir. I once went there and prostrated myself on the bare floor and sobbed for hours. People in this town think I'm insane, and some of them laughed at me. I see their looks of haughty disdain every day. Do you think, sir, that I'm a demon? Am I a repugnant sight to you?" Dolman didn't say anything.

"A man once called me a reprobate, a soul forsaken by God. I'm not asking for impunity; I'm a delinquent, and I know I deserve to be punished, but please, sir, judge for yourself: haven't I had enough? Haven't I had enough of this perpetual damnation?"

At last, Dolman stood, paid the tapster, and went out.

"Didn't I tell you he's insane! Parricide is a great iniquity and an ill fame," said a man to his companion after Dolman had left.