Sektion 36 av The Story of Gösta Bärling Det här är en LibriVox rekordning. All LibriVox rekordning är i den publiska domen. För mer information eller att vara volantär, visst visst LibriVox.org. Breddning av Lars Rolander. The Story of Gösta Bärling by Selma Lagerlöf. Translaterat från Sverige på Polin-Bankroftflack. Part 2, chapter 21. Brobifär. On the first Friday in October the big brobifär begins and lasts one week. It is the festival of the autumn. There is slaughtering and baking in every house. The new winter clothes are then worn for the first time. The brand irrations are doubled, work rests. There is feasting on all the estates. The servants and labourers draw their pay and hold long conferences over what they shall buy at the fair. People from a distance come in small companies with knapsacks on their backs and staffs in their hands. Many are driving their cattle before them to the market. Small obstinate young bulls and goats stand still and plant their forefeet causing much spexation to their owners and much amusement to the bystanders. The guest rooms at the manors are filled with guests. Beats of muse are exchanged and the prices of cattle discussed. And on the first Friday what crowds swarm up Ruby Hill and over the wide marketplace. Boots are set up where the tradespeople spread out their wares. Rope dancers, organ grinders and blind violin players are everywhere. As well as fortune tellers, sellers of sweet meats and of brandy. Beyond the rows of boots, vegetables and fruit are offered for sale by the gardeners from the big estates. Wide stretches are taken up by Ruddy Copper Kettles. It is plain, however, by the movement in the fair that there is one in Svartfö, en Bru, en Lövig. And the other provinces about the Löven trade is poor at the boots. There's most bustle in the cattle market for many have to sell both cow and horse to be able to live through the winter. It is a gay scene, if one only has money for a glass or two, one can keep up one's courage. And it is not only the brandy which is the cause of the meriment. When the people from the lonely woodhuts come down to the marketplace with its seething masses and hear the din of the screaming, laughing crowd, they become as if delirious with excitement. Everybody who does not have to stay at home to look after the house and cattle has come to this sprubbi fair. There are the pensioners from Ikeby and the peasants from Nygård, horse dealers from Norway, fins from the northern forests, vagrants from the highways. Sometimes the roaring sea gathers in a whirlpool which turns about a middle point. No one knows what is at the center until a couple of policemen break away through the crowd to put an end to a fight or to lift up an overturned cart. Towards noon the great fight began. The peasants had got it into their heads that the tradespeople were using two short yardsticks and it began with quarrelling and disturbance about the boots. Then it turned to violence. Everyone knows that for many of those who for days had not seen anything but want and suffering. It was a pleasure to strike. It made no difference whom or what. And as soon as they see that the fight is going on, they come rushing from all sides. The pensioners mean to break through to make peace after their fashion and the tradesmen run to help one another. Big Mons from Foch is the most eager in the game. He is drunk and he is angry. He has thrown down a tradesman and has begun to beat him. But at his calls for help his comrades hurry to him and try to make Mons let him go. Then Mons sweps the rolls of cloth from one of the counters and ceases the top which is a yard broad and five yard long and made of thick planks and begin to brandish it as a weapon. He is a terrible man Big Mons. It was he who kicked out a wall in the Philip Starr jail. He who could lift a boat out of the water and carry it on his shoulders. When he begins to strike about him with a heavy counter, everyone flies before him. But he follows striking right and left. For him it is no longer a question of friends or enemies. He only wants someone to hit since he has got a weapon. The people scatter in terror. Men and women scream and run. But how can the women escape when many of them have their children by the hand? Boots and cart stand in their way. Oxen and cows maddened by the noise prevent their escape. In a corner between the boots a group of women are wedged and to watch them the giant rage. Does he not see a tradesman in the midst of the crowd? Braces the plank and lets it fall. In pale shuddering terror the women receive the attack sinking under the deadly blow. But as the board falls whistling down over them its force is broken against a man's upstretched arms. One man has not sank down but raised himself above the crowd. One man has voluntarily taken the blow to save the many. The women and children are uninjured. One man has broken the force of the blow. But he lies now unconscious on the ground. Big Mons does not lift up his board. He has met the man's eye just as the counter struck his head and it has paralyzed him. He lets himself be bound and taken away without resistance. But the report flies about the fair that Big Mons has killed Captain Lennart. They say that he who had been the people's friend died to save the women and defenseless children. And a silence falls on the great square where life had lately roared at fever pitch. Trade ceases, the fighting stops, the people leave their dinners. Their friend is dead. The silent throng streamed towards the place where he's fallen. He lies stretched out on the ground quite unconscious. No wound is visible but his skull seems to be flattened. Some of the men lift him carefully up onto the counter which the giant has let fall. They think they perceive that he still lives. Where shall we carry him? They ask one another. Home, answers the harsh voice in the crowd. Yes, good man, carry him home. Lift him up on your shoulders and carry him home. He has been God's plaything. He has been driven like a feather before his breath. Carry him home. That wounded head has rested on the hard barrack bed in the prison on sheaves of straw in the barn. Let it now come home and rest on a soft pillow. He has suffered undeserved shame and torment. He has been hunted from his own door. He has been a wandering fugitive following the paths of God where he could find him. But his promised land was that home whose gates God had closed to him. Perhaps his house stands open for one who has died to save women and children. Now he does not come as a male factor escorted by reeling boon companions. He is followed by a sorrowing people in whose cottages he has lived while he helped their sufferings. Carry him home. And so they do. Six men lift the board on which he lies on their shoulders and carry him away from the fairgrounds. Wherever they pass, the people move to one side and stand quiet. The men uncover their heads, the women courtesy as they do in church when God's name is spoken. Many weep and dry their eyes. Others begin to tell what a man he had been.  It is wonderful to see to how as soon as one of his spares gives out another quietly comes and puts his shoulder under the board. So Captain Leonard comes by the place where the pensioners are standing. I must go and see that he comes home safely, says Beren Kreuz and leaves his place at the roadside to follow the procession to Helgeseter. Many follow his example. The fairgrounds are deserted. Everybody has to follow to see that Captain Leonard comes home. When the procession reaches Helgeseter, the house is silent and deserted. Again the colonels fist beats on the closed door. All the servants are at the fair. The captain's wife is alone at home. It is she again who opens the door. And she asks as she asked once before. What do you want? Whereupon the colonel answers as he answered once before. We are here with your husband. She looks at him where he stands stiff and calm as usual. She looks at the bears behind him who are weeping and at all the mass of people. She stands there on the steps and looks into hundreds of weeping eyes who stare sadly up at her. Last she looks at her husband who lies stretched out on the beer and she presses her hand to her heart. That is his right face, she murmurs. Without asking more she bends down, draws back a bolt, opens the hall doors wide and then goes before the others into the bedroom. The colonel helps her to drag out the big bed and shake up the pillows. And so Captain Leonard is once more laid on soft down and white linen. Is he alive? She asks. Yes, answers the colonel. Is there any hope? No, nothing can be done. There was silence for a while, then a sudden thought comes over her. Are they weeping for his sake all those people? Yes. What has he done?  Again she sits silent for a while and thinks. What kind of face did he have colonel when he came home two months ago? The colonel started. Now he understands. Now at last he understands. Justa had painted him.  How will you answer for that colonel? Berenkreuz shrugged his broad shoulders. I have much to answer for. Men jag tror att det här måste vara det bästa du har gjort. Något har jag ännu mer gått än det idag upp till Helge Seter. Dessutom är det två andra som är bäst i det här. Vem? Sintramus One. Du är själv är andra. Du är en svårlän. Jag vet att många har försökt tala till dig av djurhuset. Det är verkligen det. Sen bäggs honom att berätta till dig om det här eveningen. Han berättar om vad han kan tänka och lyssnar sannolikt. Kapten Lennart ligger fortfarande på väggen. Rumet är full av bästa folk. Något tänker att han skrattar ut den morgonen. Alla dörrar stannar öppna. Städerna i hållet är fyllda med sannolikt bästa folk. Far ut i hållet står han i en klocka mass. När städerna är fyllda, rör hon hos henne och säger... Om det finns några bästa här, så frågar jag dem att gå. Det är svårt för mig att se dem när jag är siktig med min husband. Innan en annan ord är bästa bästa och går ut. Så är det bara en bästa och många andra bästa som följer kapten Lennart. Bästa folk skrattar ut för en liten grupp av humiljade män. När de är bästa, sannolikt bästa han. Om några av dem som har sett min husband i den här tiden beror på vad han har gjort och vad han har gjort? Då börjar de ge en testimonie av kapten Lennart till sin vän som misstänkade honom och stjärnade hos honom hos honom. Det har varit en lång tid innan alla var redo. Alla trots den kvinnorna och satt och talade. En efter en annan stjärna framför och beror på honom hos sin vän som inte skulle hitta hos hans namn. En sa hur han hittade dem på en siktbädd och hittade dem. Det är en gädda som han har stjärnat. Det är en morgon som han har stjärnat. En dränkare som han hade ledt till bästa. Alla som hade varit i en svårig distress hade satt en messag till vännen och han hade hjälpt dem. Eller åtminstone hade han vänt hopp och färg. In i dörren står han och vänts. De vet vad som går inbara. Det som är satt bäst av ditt bädd är hos vänna till vännen. Han har något att säga och fortsätter. Här är en som kan bära vittnen, säger han, och lämnar hos honom. De går inbara till vännen, lämnar hos honom och släpper igen till vännen. Vad säger hon nu? De som står ute och frågar när någon kommer ut. Vad säger hon? Hon lär sig som en djärna. Hon lär sig som en djärna. Hon har satt hos hos hos hos hos bädd och lämnar hos hos hos honom. Men då sker en silen på djuren. Nån säger det, eller vet det samtidigt. Han är död. Captain Leonard ökar hos hos hos och lämnar allt. Han lämnar hos honom, djuren, hos vän, hos djuren, hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos hos. Så tar suggested att avg pockets dpsy sor barnen håller ett bapton sänds djur NO EL den kan ingen stor vojster bilden sagna om stel Det här är en LibriVox rekordning, eller LibriVox rekordning är i den publiska domen. För mer information, eller till att välja, visst visst LibriVox.org, Riding av Lars Rolander. Storj av Justa Berling av Selma Lagerlöf, translaterat från den svenska polinbankröftfläck. Part 2, chapter 22, The Forest Cottage. Det var många år innan pensionsrödena i Ikeby. Hållande och gärna spelade ihop i vattnet, byggde huset med flott stål, och byggde kladdbärlar. De var både vart i vattnet, vattnet var sin hjärta och hans hjärta. De levde i lön med allt där. De kunde se på lön och fokserna som vattnäckare. Vågrorna var sina kattar, färg och skrörelser, kattel. Hållande och grås satt i sin stål. Pannorna var sina serven och bärlare, trådde hos fjärnorna. De kunde inte att viperna kallade upp i sin vinterrest. Och när de var bäst, hade de sett att den vattenklipp kom att svimma på den vattenklipp, men de färgde ingen vattenklipp, utan en vild klipp. De belongerade till vattenklipp, och det var sin hjärta, där inget kunde förbjuda dem. Bara i vattenklipp lade klippet där vattenklipp levde. En helvets vattenklipp ledde till det. Människa klippet kom in och ställde ut vattenklippet. En vattenklipp kunde ligga nära och gav ut hela år runt en vattenklipp. En sådan vattenklipp kunde se långt från att sköta till folk på vattenklipp. Hållande klippet och vattenklipp var som en dag att bli mörkade. De levde där i vattenklippet och ställde dem själv med vattenklippet. Men innan de var mörkade eller passade över landet och vattenklippet listade dem. Han kom hem igen utan att vända eller vinna limb, men han hade blivit ändrat för livet av den kampanjen. Han hade sett för mycket av världens vackernas och manns krul aktivitet mot vattenklipp. Han kunde inget längre se bra. Först kunde ingen ha sett nåt förändring i honom, med vattenklippet. Han gick till klördjummen och hade banden blivit. Forestkortet över AQB var sin hjärta, som de hade planerat långt tidigare. Men det var inte en liten hjärta hjärta. Vattenklippet kunde se vattenklipp som en vattenklipp, men innan han kom från vattenklippet, kunde han inte hitta henne. Han kunde inte hitta henne, men han kunde inte hitta henne. Han kunde inte hitta henne. Han kunde inte hitta henne, men han kunde inte henne. Han kunde inte hitta henne, men han kunde inte hitta henne. Han kunde inte hitta henne, men han kunde inte hitta henne. Nu var forestkortet hända. Måten kunde sätta ut vattenklipp och svampen kunde sätta upp vattenklippet. Forest är en skönt plats för en som har äldre tänkning. Han som vill leva i vattenklippet skulle ha bra mängder. Alltså ser han bara mörder och oppression mellan plantor och mängder, precis som han hade sett det tidigare mellan mängder. Han växer evigt från allt som han träffar. Soldatet Jan Hörk kunde inte öka vad det var med henne, men han kände att inget gick bra med henne. Det var en liten siffra i sin hjärta. Han sanns som gick upp där var stark, men bra. De var hårdiga och bra män, men de var också vänkligare med alla män. Han var tämda med henne Soro för att söka ut vattenklippet. I svampen och vattenklippet gav honom hälsorna. Han kunde säkerhetsgivna och ge uppgivna till de som var krossade i vattenklippet. Han vann fämre som en viss och var skönt, men han gjorde mycket bra. En dag var han försökt tala med henne av hans träd. Eftersom han gick till vattenklippet, han sa, du har varit så förändringar. Vad gjorde de till dig där? Sen gick han upp och var klara att styrka henne. Och så var det var en gång som han språk av vattenklippet, han blev märklig med rörelse. Ingen kunde han äta att höra vattenklippet, och det kunde bli nytt. Så att folk var bäst av det här. Men ingen av hans bräderna i vattenklippet kunde säga att han gjorde mer harm än andra. Han hade fattat som en bra soldat. Det var bara allt som var bäst av vad han hade sett, vilket hade fräntat henne, så att sedan sen såg han inget, men evigt. Alla hans trädet kom från vattenklippet. Han trodde att alla naturen hittade henne, för att han hade en skäl i såna saker. De som kunde veta mer kunde konsolera demselfelsen att de hade fattat för vattenklippet och honom. Vad vet han av sådana saker? Han tyckte bara att allt hittade henne för att han hade blått och gjort mycket injur. När det största vattenklippet var drivna från Ekeby, hans vattenklipp hann han själv i klippet. Hans vattenklipp var död, och hans sanns var av. Durande färsen hans hus var alltid full av vattenklippet. Vattenklippet var vattenklippet där uppe. De som kunde veta mer kunde veta henne. Små, långsiktig hården kom upp vattenklippet, drabbade vattenklippet med barnen, och vattenklippet av vattenklippet. Vattenklippet var tidigt, med färsen svåla med småkning och vattenklippet, och vattenklippet med klipp, klipp, färsen och senningsklippet följde vattenklippet. När vattenklippet kom till skottet, var det en människa liv där, Brandy och Kards och Loutalking följde med dem. De hade mycket att säga om vattenklippet och hårdenklipp och vattenklipp. Brubifärsen började på fredag, och sen var Captain Lennart kallad. Big Mons, som gav vattenklippet, var sann till den gamla män i forestkottet. När gypsen på sannes sannes satt samtidigt där, handlade old Jan Hörk den Brandy-botteln oftare än usual, och talade med honom om vattenklipp och vattenklipp och vattenklipp, för de hade oftast försökt såna saker. Vattenklippet satt på vattenklippet i vattenklippet och sa lite. Vattenklippet ställde på vägenklipp som följde vattenklippet. Det var skönt, men vattenklippet följde vattenklippet. The door was softly opened, and two women entered. It was the young Countess Elizabeth followed by the daughter of the Brubbi clergyman. Lovely and glowing she came into the circle of light. She told them that just a balling had not been seen at Ikeby since Captain Lennart died. She and her servant had searched for him in the wood the whole afternoon. Now she saw that there were men here who had much wondered and knew all the past. Had they seen him? She had come in to rest and to ask if they had seen him. It was a useless question. None of them had seen him. They gave her a chair. She sank down on it and sat silent for a while. There was no sound in the room. All looked at her and wondered at her. At last she grew frightened at the silence, started and tried to speak of indifferent things. She turned to the old man in the corner. I think I've heard that you have been a soldier, she said. Tell me something of the war. The silence grew still deeper. The old man sat as if he had not heard. It would be very interesting to hear about the war from someone who had been there himself, continued the Countess. But she stopped short for the groovy clergyman's daughter shook her head at her. She must have said something forbidden. Everybody was looking at her as if she had offended against the simplest rule of propriety. Suddenly a gypsy woman raised her sharp voice and asked, Are you not she who has been Countess at Bori? Yes, I am. That was another thing then running about the wood after a mad priest. The Countess rose and said farewell. She was quite rested. The woman who had spoken followed her out through the door. You understand Countess, she said. I had to say something for it does not do to speak to the old man of war. He can't bear to hear the word. I meant well. Countess Elisabeth hurred away but she soon stopped. She saw the threatening wood, the dark mountain and the reeking swamp.  She felt compassion for the old man who had sat there with the dark gypsies for company. Annalisa, she said, let us turn back. They were kind to us but I behave badly. I want to talk to the old man about pleasanter things and happy to have found someone to comfort. She went back to the cottage. I think she said that just a bearling is wandering here in the wood and means to take his own life. It is therefore important that he be soon found and prevented. I and my maid Annalisa thought we saw him sometimes but then he disappeared. He keeps to that part of the mountain where the broom girl was killed. I happen to think that I do not need to go way down to Ekby to get help. Here sit many active men who easily could catch him.  When the Countess does not hold herself too good to ask service of the forest people, you must go at once. The men rose immediately and went out to search. Old John Herc sat still and stared before him with lustrous eyes. Terrifyingly gloomy and hard he sat there. The young woman could think of nothing to say to him.  Instantly she began to care for the sick. She was soon friends with the gossiping women and had them show her the smallest children. In an hour the men came back. They carried just a bearling bound into the room. They laid him down on the floor before the fire. His clothes were torn and dirty. His cheeks sunken and his eyes wild. Parable had been his ways during those days. He had lain on the damp ground. He had borrowed with his hands and facing bogs, dragged himself over rocks, forced his way through the sickest underbrush. Of his own will he had never come with the men, but they had overpowered and bound him. When his wife saw him so, she was angry. She did not free his bound limbs. She let him lie where he was on the floor. With a scorn she turned from him. How you look, she said. I had never meant to come again before your eyes, he answered. Am I not your wife? Is it not my right to expect you to come to me with your troubles? In bitter sorrow I have waited for you these two days. I was the cause of Captain Leonard's misfortunes. How could I dare to show myself to you? You are not often afraid just now. The only service I can do you, Elisabeth, is to rid you of my soul. Unspeakable contempt flashed from under her frowningbrows at him. You wish to make me his suicide's wife? His face was distorted. Elisabeth, let us go out into the silent forest and talk. Why should not these people hear us? She cried speaking in a shrill voice. Are we better than any of them? Has any one of them caused more sorrow and injury than we? They are the children of the forest and of the highway. They are hated by every man. Let them hear how sin and sorrow also follows the Lord of Ekibi, the beloved of all, Jösta Berling. Do you think your wife considers herself better than any of them, or do you? He raised himself with difficulty onto his elbow and looked at her with sudden defiance. I am not such a wretched, you think. Then she heard the story of those two days. The first day, Jösta wondered about in the wood driven by remorse. He could not bear to meet anyone's eye, but he did not think of dying. He meant a journey to far distant lands. On Sunday, however, he came down from the hills and went to the brew church. Once more he wished to see the people, the poor hungry people whom he had dreamt of serving, when he had sat by the Brubbi-Clerdemons pile of shame, and whom he had learned to love when he saw them disappear into the night with a dead room girl. The service had begun when he came to the church. He crept up to the gallery and looked down on the people. He had felt bitter agony. He had wanted to speak to them, to comfort them in their poverty and hopelessness. If he had only been allowed to speak in God's house, hopeless as he was, he would have found words of hope and salvation for them all. Then he left the church, went into the sacristy and wrote the message which his wife already knew. He had promised that work should be renewed at Ekibi, and grain distributed to those in greatest need. He had hoped that his wife and the pensioners would fulfill his promises when he was gone. As he came out, he saw a coffin standing before the parish hall. It was plain, put together in haste, but covered with black crepe and wreaths. He knew that it was Captain Lennox. The people had begged the captain's wife to hasten the funeral, so that all those who had come to the fair could be at the burial. He was standing and looking at the coffin when a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder. Syndrome had come up to him. Iasta, he said.   Nothing which so deceives an honest man who suspects no harm.  Just I listened with horror to what he said. Syndrome complained of the failure of well-aid plans. He had wanted to see a waste about the shores of the loven. He had made the pensioners lords of the place. He had let the Brubbi clergymen impoverish the people. He had called forth the draught and the famine. At the Brubbi fair the decisive blow was to have fallen. Excited by their misfortunes, the people should have turned to murder and robbery. Then there should have been lawsuits to begger them. Famine, riot, and every kind of misfortune should have ravaged them. Finally, the country would have become so odious and detestable that no one could have lived there. And it would all have been syndroms doing. It would have been his joy and pride, for he was evil-minded. He loved desert waste and uncultivated fields. But this man who had known how to die at the right moment had spoiled it all for him. Then just asked him what would have been the good of it all. It would have pleased me just after I am bad. I am the grizzly bear on the mountain. I am the snowstorm on the plain.  The way I say with people and their works. I don't like them. I can let them slip from between my claws and cut their capers. That is amusing too for a while. But now I am tired of play. Yes, done. Now I want to strike.  He was mad, quite mad. He began a long time ago as a joke with those devilish tricks. And now his maliciousness had taken the upper hand. Now he thought he really was a spirit from the lower regions. He had fed and fostered the evil in him until it had taken possession of his soul. For wickedness can dry people mad as well as love and broadening. He was furious and in his anger he began to tear the wreaths from off the coffin. But then just a bearling cried. Let the coffin be. Well, well, well, so I shall not touch it. Yes, I shall throw my friend Leonard out on the ground and trample on his wreaths. Do you not see what he has done to me? Do you not see in what a fine grey coach I am riding? And just I then saw that a couple of prison vans with the sheriff and constables of the district stood and waited outside the churchyard wall. I ought to send Captain Leonard's wife thanks that she yesterday set herself down to read through old papers in order to find proof against me in that matter of the powder, you know. Shall I not let her know that she would have done better to occupy herself with brewing and baking than in sending the sheriff and his men after me? Shall I have nothing for the tears I have wet to induce Charling to let me come here and read a prayer by my good friend's coffin? And he began again to drag on the crepe. Then just a bearling came close up to him and seized his arms. I will give anything to make you let the coffin alone, he said. Do what you like, said the madman. Call if you like, I can always do something before the sheriff gets here.  Let us fight among the rest and Paul's. I will buy rest for the dead at any price, take my life, take everything. You promise much, you can prove it.  I will do it, but first the coffin shall be safely under earth. And so it was. Sintram took just as oath that he would not be alive twelve hours after Captain Leonard was buried. Then I know that you can never be good for anything, he said. It was easy for just a bearling to promise. He was glad to be able to give his wife her liberty. Remorse had made him long for death. The only thing which troubled him was that he had promised the major's wife not to die as long as the Brubbe Clodiman's daughter was a servant at Ekeby. But Sintram said that she could no longer be considered a servant since she had inherited her father's fortune. Justa objected that the Brubbe Clodiman had hidden his treasures so well that no one had been able to find them. Then Sintram laughed and said that they were hidden up among the pigeons nests in the church tower. Thereupon he went away. And justa went back to the wood again. It seemed best to him to die at the place where the broom girl had been killed. He had wandered there the whole afternoon. He had seen his wife in the wood, and then he had not had the strength to kill himself. All this he told his wife while he lay bound on the floor of the cottage. Oh, she said sadly, when he had finished. How familiar it all is. Always ready to thrust your hands into the fire, justa. Always ready to throw yourself away. How noble such things seemed to me once. How I now value calmness and good sense. What good did you do the dead by such a promise? What did it matter if Sintram had overturned the coffin and torn off the crepe? It would have been picked up again. There would have been found new crepe, new dress. If you had laid your hand on that good man's coffin there before Sintram's eyes and sworn to live to help those poor people whom he wished to ruin. That I should have commended. If you had thought when you saw the people in the church I will help them. I will make use of all my strength to help them and not lay that burden on your weak wife and on old men with failing strength. I should also have commended that. Justa Belling lay silent for a while. We pensioners are not free men, he said at last. We have promised one another to live for pleasure and only for pleasure. Woe to us all if one breaks his word. Woe to you! said the countess indignantly. If you shall be the most cowardly of the pensioners and slower to improve than any of them. Yesterday afternoon the whole eleven sat in the pensioners wing and they were very sad. You were gone. Captain Lennart was gone. Glory and honor of Ikeby were gone. They left the toddy tray untouched. They would not let me see them. Then the maid Annalisa, who stands here, went up to them. You know she is an energetic little woman who for years has struggled despairingly against neglect and waste. Today I have been again at home and looked for father's money she said to the pensioners. But I have not found anything. All the debts are paid and the drawers and closets are empty. We are sorry for your Annalisa. said Baron Kreuz. When the major's wife left Ikeby continued Annalisa. She told me to see after her house and if I had found father's money I would have built up Ikeby. But as I did not find anything else to take away with me I took father's shame heap for great shame awaits me when my mistress comes again and asks me what I have done with Ikeby. Don't take so much to heart what is not your fault Annalisa said Baron Kreuz again. But I did not take the shame heap for myself alone said Annalisa. I took it also for your reckoning, good gentleman. Father is not the only one who has been the cause of shame and injury in this world. And she went from one to the other of them lay down some of the dry sticks before each some of them swore but most of them let her go on. At last Baron Kreuz said calmly It is swell. We thank you. You may go now. When she had gone he struck the table with his clenched hand till the glasses rang. From this hour he said absolutely sober Brandy shall never again cause me such shame Thereupon he rose and went out They followed him by degrees all the others Do you know where they went just down? Well down to the river to the point where the mill and the forge had stood and there they began to work. They began to drag away the logs and stones and clear the place The old men have had a hard time Many of them have had sorrow Now they can no longer bear the disgrace of having ruined Ikeby. I know too well that you pensioners are ashamed to work but now the others have taken that shame on them Moreover just they mean to send Annalisa up to the major's wife to bring her home But you, what are you doing? He found still an answer to give her What do you want of me of a dismissed priest cast off by men hateful to God? I too have been in the Brute Church today justa I have a message to you from two women Tell justa, said Marianne Sinclair that a woman does not like to be ashamed of him she has loved Tell justa, said Anna Scharnhög that all is now well with me I manage my own estates I do not think of love, only a word At Päriatu they have conquered the first bitterness of their sorrow But we all grieve for justa We believe in him and pray for him But when, when will he be a man? Do you hear?  Why did you not stay and see Captain Leonard's burial? As he had died on a fair day His fame had gone far and wide After the service thousands of people came up to the church The funeral procession was formed by the town hall They were only waiting for the old dean He was ill and had not preached But he had promised to come to Captain Leonard's funeral And at last he came with head sunk on his breast And dreaming his dreams As he is want to do now in his old age And placed himself at the head of the procession He noticed nothing unusual He walked on the familiar path and did not look up He read the prayers and threw the earth on the coffin And still noticed nothing But then the sexton began a hymn Hundreds and hundreds of voices joined in Men, women and children sang Then the dean awoke from his dreams He passed his hand over his eyes And stepped up on the mound of earth to look Never had he seen such a crowd of mourners All were singing, all had tears in their eyes All were mourning Then the old dean began to tremble What should he say to these people? He must say a word to comfort them When the song ceased he stretched out his arms of the people I see that you are mourning, he said And sorrow is heavier to bear For one who has longed to live Then for me who will soon be gone He stopped his maid, his voice was too weak And words failed him But he soon began again His voice had regained his youthful strength And his eyes glowed First he told all he knew of God's wayfarer Then he reminded us that no outward polish Nor great ability had made that man so honored As he now was But only that he had always followed God's ways And now he asked us to do the same Each should love the other and help him Each should think well of the other And he explained everything which had happened this year He said it was a preparation for the time of love and happiness Which now was to be expected And we all felt as if we had heard a prophet speak All wished to love one another All wished to be good He lifted his eyes and hands and proclaimed peace in the neighborhood Then he called on a helper for the people Someone will come, he said It is not God's will that you shall perish God will find someone who will feed the hungry And lead you in his ways Then we all thought of you Jasta We knew that the deen spoke of you The people who had heard your message Went home talking of you And you wandered here in the wood And wanted to die The people are waiting for you Jasta In all the cottages they are sitting and saying that As the mad priest at Ikeby is going to help them All will be well You are their hero Jasta Yes Jasta It is certain that the old man meant you And that ought to make you want to live But I Jasta who am your wife I say to you that you shall go and do your duty You shall not dream of being sent by God Anyone can be that You shall work without any heroics You shall not shine an astonish You shall so manage that your name is not too often heard On the people's lips But think well before you take back your promise to syndrome You have now got a certain right to die And life ought not to offer you many attractions There was a time when my wish was to go home to Italy Jasta It seemed too much happiness for me A sinner to be your wife And be with you through life But now I shall stay If you dare to live I shall stop But do not await any joy from that I shall force you to follow the very path of duty You need never expect words of joy or hope from me Can a heart which has suffered like mine love again Tearless and joyless I shall walk beside you Think well Jasta before you choose to live We shall go the way of penance She didn't wait for his answer She nodded to Annalisa and went When she came out into the wood She began to weep bitterly And wept until she reached Ikeby When she arrived there she remembered that she had forgotten to talk of gladder things Then wore to yarn her the soldier In the cottage there was silence when she was gone Glory and honor be to the Lord God Said the old soldier suddenly They looked at him He had risen and was looking eagerly about him Wicked, wicked has everything been He said everything I have seen Since I got my eyes opened has been wicked Bad men, bad women, hate and anger in forest and plain But she is good A good woman has stood in my house When I am sitting here alone I shall remember her She shall be with me in the wood He bent down over Jasta Untied his fetters and lifted him up Then he solemnly took his hand Full to God, he said and nodded That is just it But now you are not anymore Nor I either since she has been in my house She is good The next day old Jan Hök came to the bailiff Charling I will carry my cross, he said I have been a bad man Therefore I have had bad sons He asked to be allowed to go to prison instead of his son But that could not be The best of old stories is the one which tells of how he followed his son Walking beside the prison van How he slept outside his cell How he did not forsake him until he had suffered his punishment End of section 37 of the story of Jasta Barling Read by Lars Rolander Det här är en livstjärvom i Lufvars Det är en livstjärvom i Lufvars Det här är en livstjärvom i Lufvars På mer information eller om du vill Visst önska livstjärvom.nu Read by Lars Rolander Det här är en livstjärvom i Lufvars Det är sluttsiktig av svensk polens senare Part 2, Chapter 23 Margareta Sälsing. En par dagar innan kristans, siffrorna kom i stället för att lägga till Löfföresten. Men det var inte till kristans, att hon kom till Ekeby. I hela stället var hon ill, men i stället för kold och fivor, folk hade aldrig sett henne i bättre kvinnor, utan hörde hon mer kvinnliga ordning. Brubbi Klödemanns dörr, som har varit med henne i Löfföresten i övriga oktober, satt på sin sidan i stället och ville att hänka den järna. Men hon kunde inte förbereda den äldre kvinnor för att stoppa henne och kolla alla vägfäror upp till honom för att fråga om nyheter. Hur är det med dig här i Löfföresten? Hon frågade. All is well, var det ansvar. Better times are coming. The mad priest there at Ekeby and his wife help us all. A good time has come, answered another. Sintrum is gone. The Ekeby pensioners are working. The Brubbi Klödemanns money is found in the Brubbi church tower. There is so much that the glory and power of Ekeby can be restored with it. There is enough too to get bread for the hungry. Our old dean has waked to new life and strength, said the third. Every Sunday he speaks to us of the coming of the kingdom of God. And the major's wife drove slowly on, asking everyone she met. How is it here? Do you not suffer from want here?  There are too good and rich women here. Marianne Sinkler and Anna Schernhög, they help just a bärling to go from house to house and see that no one is starving and no more brandy is made now. It was as if the major's wife had sat in the sledge and listened to a long divine service. She had come to a blessed land. She saw old furrowed faces brighten when they spoke of the time which had come. The sick forgot their pains to tell of the day of joy. We all want to be like the good Captain Lennart, they said. We all want to be good. We want to believe good of everyone. We will not injure anyone. It shall hasten the coming of God's kingdom. She found them all filled with the same spirit. On the larger estates, free dinners were given to those who were in greatest need. All who had work to be done had it done now. She had never felt in better health than when she sat there and let the cold air stream into her aching breast. She could not drive by a single house without stopping and asking. Everything is well, they all said. There was great distress, but the good gentleman from Ekeby help us. You will be surprised at everything which has been done there. The mill is almost ready and the smitty is at work and the burnt down house ready for the roof. Ah, it would only last a short time, but still it was good to return to a land where they all help one another and all wish to do good. The maidess wife felt that she could now forgive the pensioners and she thanked God for it. Annalisa, she said, I feel as if I had already come into the heaven of the blessed. When she at last reached Ekeby and the pensioners hurrid to help her out of the sledge, they could hardly recognize her for she was as kind and gentle as their own young countess. The older ones who had seen her as a young girl whispered to one another. It is not the major's wife at Ekeby. It is Margarita Selsing who has come back. Great was the pensioner's joy to see her come so kind and so free from all thoughts of revenge, but it was soon changed to grief when they found how ill she was. She had to be carried immediately into the guest room in the wing and put to bed. But on the threshold she turned and spoke to them. It has been God's storm, she said. God's storm, I know now that it has all been for the best. Then the door to the sick room closed and they never saw her again. There is so much to say to one who is dying. The words throng to the lips when one knows that in the next room lies one whose ears will soon be closed for always. Ah, my friend, my friend, one wants to say. Can you forgive? Can you believe that I have loved you in spite of everything? Ah, my friend, thanks for all the joy you have given me. That will one say and so much more. But the major's wife lay in a burning fever and the voices of the pensioners could not reach her. Would she never know how they had worked, how they had taken up her work? After a little while the pensioners went down to the smithy. There all work was stopped, but they threw in a new coal and new ore into the furnace and made ready to smelt. They did not call the smith who had gone home to celebrate Christmas, but worked themselves at the forge. If the major's wife could only live until the hammer got going, it would tell her their story. Evening came and then night while they were. Several of them thought how strange it was that they should again celebrate the night before Christmas in the smithy. Evenhyller, who had been the architect of the mill and the smithy, and Krishanberry stood by the forge and attended to the melting iron. Justa and Julius were the strokers. Some of the others sat on the anvil under the raised hammer and others sat on coal carts and piles of pig iron. Löfvenborg was talking to Eberhard the philosopher who sat beside him on the anvil. Sintrum ties tonight, he said. Why just tonight? Ask Eberhard. You know that we made an agreement last year. Now we have done nothing which has been un-gentlemanly and therefore he has lost. You who believe in such things know very well that we have done a great deal which has been un-gentlemanly. First we did not help the major's wife. Second we began to work. Third it was not quite right that justa Belling did not kill himself when he had promised. I have thought of that too, answered Löfvenborg. But my opinion is that you do not rightly comprehend the matter. To act with the thought of our own mean advantage was forbidden us. But not to act as love or honor or our own salvation demanded. I think that Sintrum has lost. Perhaps you are right. I tell you that I know it. I have heard his slables the whole evening. But they are not real bells. We shall soon have him here. And the little old man sat and stared through the smittidor which stood open out at the bit of blue sky studded with stars which showed through it. After a little while he started up. Do you see him? He whispered. There he comes creeping. Do you not see him in the doorway? I see nothing replied Everhard. You are sleepy, that is the whole story. I saw him so distinctly against the sky. He had on his long wolfskin coat and fur cap. Now he's over there in the dark and I cannot see him. Look, now he's up by the furnace. He's standing close to Krishanberry. But Krishan seems not to see him. Now he's bending down and is throwing something into the fire. Oh, how wicked he looks! Take care, friends, take care! As he spoke, a tongue of flame burst out of the furnace and covered the smits and their assistance with cinder and sparks. No one, however, was injured. He wants to be revenged, whispered Lövenborg. You two are mad, cried Everhard. You ought to have had enough of such things. Do you not see how he's standing there by the prop and grinning at us? But verily I believe that he's unfasand the hammer. He started up and dragged Everhard with him. The second after the hammer fell thundering down onto the anvil. It was only a clamp which had given way. But Everhard and Lövenborg had narrowly escaped death. You see that he has no power over us, said Lövenborg triumphantly. But it is plain that he wants to be revenged. And he called just a bearing to him. Go up to the women, just of, perhaps he will show himself to them too. They are not so used as I to seeing such things. They may be frightened. And take care of yourself, just of, for he has a special grudge against you. And perhaps he has power over you on account of that promise. Afterwards they heard that Lövenborg had been right. And that Syntrum had died that night. Some said that he had hanged himself in his cell. Others believed that the servants of justice secretly had him killed. For the trial seemed to be going well for him. And it would never do to let him out again among the people in Lövföre.  And Lövenborg was not the only one who saw him that night. He was also seen at Foch and in Ulrika Dillner's dreams. Many told how he had shown himself to them until Ulrika Dillner moved his body to the Brute Church yard. She also had the evil servants sent away from Foch and introduced their good order. After that it was no longer haunted. It is said that before Yostabaaling reached the house, a stranger had come to the wing and had left a letter for the major's wife. No one knew the messenger, but the letter was carried in and laid on the table beside the sick woman. Soon after she became unexpectedly better, the fever decreased, the pain abated, and she was able to read the letter. The old people believed that her improvement depended on the influence of the powers of darkness. Syndrome and his friends would profit by the reading of that letter. It was a contract written in blood on black paper. The pensioners would have recognized it. It was composed on the last Christmas Eve in the Smitty at Ekeby. And the major's wife lay there now and read that since she had been a witch and had sent pensioner souls to hell, she was condemned to lose Ekeby, that and other similar absurdities she read. She examined the date and signatures and found the following note beside Yostas name. Because the major's wife has taken advantage of my weakness to tempt me away from honest work and to keep me as pensioner at Ekeby, because she has made me a badonas murderer by betraying to her that I am a dismissed priest, I sign my name. The major's wife slowly folded the paper and put it in its envelope. Then she lay still and thought over what she had learnt. She understood with bitter pain that such was the people's thought of her. She was a witch and a sorceress to all those whom she had served, to whom she had given work and bread. This was her reward. They could not believe anything better of an adulteress. Her thoughts flew. Wild anger and a longing for revenge flamed up in her fever burning brain. She had Annalisa, who with countess Elisa attended her, send a message to Högfors, the manager and overseer. She wished to make her will. Again she lay thinking, her eyebrows were drawn together, her features were terribly distorted by suffering. You are very ill, said the countess softly. Yes, more ill than ever before. There was silence again, but then the major's wife spoke in a hard, harsh voice.  The young woman started. Yes, if not indeed, yet in thoughts and desire, and that makes no difference. I who lie here feel that it makes no difference. I know it. And yet you are happy now. You may possess him you love without sin.  You may belong to one another before the world. Love one another, go side by side through life. Oh madam, madam. How can you dare to stay with him? Try the old woman with increasing violence. Repent, repent in time.  Do you dare to consider just abbelling your husband? Leave him. I shall give him ekby. I shall give him power and glory. Do you dare to share that with him? Do you dare to accept happiness and honor? I did not dare to. Do you remember what happened to me? Do you remember the Christmas dinner at ekby? Do you remember the cell in the bailiff's house? Oh madam. We sinners go here side by side without happiness. I'm here to see that no joy shall find a home by our hearth. Do you think I do not long for my home? Oh bitterly do I long for the protection and support of home. But I shall never again enjoy them. Here I shall live in fear and trembling, knowing that everything I do leads to sin and sorrow, knowing that if I help one I ruin another.  With such thoughts we deceive our hearts, cried the maid's wife. But it is weakness. You will not leave him. That is the only reason. Before the Countess could answer, just a bailing came into the room. Come here just a, said the maid's wife instantly, and her voice grew still sharper and harder.  You shall now hear what has happened to your old friend, whom you allow to wonder about the country despised and forsaken. I will first tell you what happened last spring when I came home to my mother for you ought to know the end of that story. In March I reached the ironworks in the Elftal Forest, just a little better than a beggar I looked. They told me that my mother was in the dairy, so I went there and stood for a long while silent at the door. There were long shelves round about the room and on them stood shining copper pans filled with milk, and my mother, who was over ninety years old, took down pan after pan and skimmed off the cream. She was active enough, the old woman, but I saw well enough how hard it was for her to straighten up her back to reach the pans. I did not know if she had seen me, but after a while she spoke to me in a curious shrill voice. – Så, everything has happened to you as I wished? – She said. I wanted to speak and to ask her to forgive me, but it was a waste of trouble. She did not hear a word of it. She was stone deaf. But after a while she spoke again. – You can come and help me? – She said. Then I went in and skimmed the mill. I took the pans in order and put everything in its place, and skimmed just deep enough, and she was pleased. She had never been able to trust any of the maids to skim the milk, but I knew about how she liked to have it. – Now you can take charge of this work? – She said, and then I knew that she had forgiven me. And afterwards all at once it seemed as if she could not work anymore.  – She died two weeks before Christmas. I should have liked to have come before just now, but I could not leave her. – She stopped. She began to find breathing difficult, but she made an effort and went on. – It is true just that I wish to keep you near me at Ikeby. There is something about you which makes everyone rejoice to be with you. If you had shown a wish to be a settled man, I would have given you much power. I always hoped that you would find a good wife. First I thought that it would be Marianne Sinclair, for I saw that she loved you already when you lived as woodcutter in the wood. Then I thought that it would be Ebadonam, and one day I drove over to Bari and told her that if she would have you for husband, I would leave your Ikeby in my will. If I did wrong in that, you must forgive me. Just I was kneeling by the bed with his face hidden in the blankets and was moaning bitterly. – Tell me just how you mean to live. How shall you support your wife? Tell me that you know that I have always wished you well. And just I answered her smiling while his heart almost burst with pain. In the old days when I tried to be a labourer here at Ikeby, you gave me a cottage to live in, and it is still mine. This autumn I have put it quite in order. Lövenborg has helped me, and we have whitewashed the ceilings and hung the walls with paper and painted them. The inner little room Lövenborg calls the Countess' Poudoir, and he has gone through all the farmhouses roundabout for furniture, which has come there from Manorhouse auctions. He has bought them so that there we have now high-backed armchairs and chests of drawers with shining mountains. But in the outer big room stands the young wife's weaving loom and my lathe. Household, utensils, and all kinds of things are there. And there Lövenborg and I have already sat many evenings and talked of how the young Countess and I will have it in the cottage. But my wife did not know it till now. We wanted to tell her when we should leave Ikeby. Go on, just um... Lövenborg was always saying that a maid was needed in the house. In the summer it is lovely here in the birch grove, he used to say. But in winter it will be too lonely for the young wife. You will have to have a maid just now. And I agreed with him, but I did not know how I could afford to keep one. Then he came one day and carried down his music and his table with a painted keyboard and put it in the cottage. It is you Lövenborg who are going to be the maid, I said to him. He answered that he would be needed. Did I mean the young Countess to cook the food and to carry wood and water? No, I had not meant her to do anything at all as long as I had a pair of arms to work with. But he still thought that it would be best if there were two of us, so that she might sit the whole day on her sofa and embroider. I could never know how much waiting upon such a little woman needed, he said.  It eases my pain. Do you think that your young Countess would be willing to live in the cottage? He wandered at a scornful tome, but continued. No, I did not dare to think it, but it would have been so perfect if she had been willing. It is 30 miles from any doctor. She, who has a light hand and a tender heart, would have had work enough to tend wounds and alle fevers. And I thought that everybody in trouble would find the way to the lady mistress in the forest cottage. There is so much distress among the poor, which kind words and gentle heart can help. But you yourself, just a darling! I shall have my work at the carp and suspension length. I shall hereafter live my own life. If my wife will not follow me, I cannot help it. If someone should offer me all the riches of the universe, it would not tempt me.  Now I shall be and remain a poor man among the peasants and help them with whatever I can. They need someone to play the polka for them at weddings and at Christmas. They need someone to write letters to their distant sons. And that's someone I will be. But I must be poor. It will be a gloomy life for you, justum. Oh no, it would not be if we were but two who kept together. The rich and happy would come to us as well as the poor. It would be gay enough in our cottage. Our guests would not care if the food was cooked right before their eyes, or be shocked that two must eat from the same plate. And what would be the good of it all, justum? What praise would you win? Great would be my reward if the poor would remember me for a year or two after my death. I should have done some good if I had planted a couple of apple trees at the house corners, if I had taught the country fiddlers some of the old tunes, and if the shepherd children could have learnt a few good songs to sing in the wood pass. You can believe me. I am the same madjust abbelling that I was before. A country fiddler is all I can be. But that is enough. I have many sins to atone for. To weep and to repent is not for me. I shall give the poor pleasure. That is my penance. Justum, said the major's wife. It is too humble a life for a man with your powers. I will give you ekibyme. Oh, he cried in terror. Do not make me rich. Do not put such duties upon me. Do not part me from the poor. I will give ekibyme to you and the pensioners. Repeated the major's wife.  I say like my mother, you shall take charge of this work. No, we could not accept it.  I will give you ekibyme. Do you hear? She spoke bitterly and harshly without kindness. He was filled with dismay. Do not tempt the old men. It would only make them iders and drunkards again. God in heaven, rich pensioners. What would become of us? I will give you ekibyme, justa. But then you must promise to set your wife free. Such a delicate little woman is not for you. She has had to suffer too much here in the land of the bear. She is longing for her bright native country. You shall let her go. That is why I give you ekibyme. But then Countess Elizabeth came forward to the major's wife and knelt by the bent. I do not long anymore. He who is my husband has solved the problem and found the life I can live. No longer shall I need to go stern and cold beside him and remind him of repentance and atonement. Povet in want and hard work will do that. The path which lead to the poor and sick I can follow without sin. I'm no longer afraid of the life here in the north. But do not make him rich. Then I do not dare to stay. The major's wife raised herself in the bed. You demand happiness for yourselves. She cried and threatened them with clenched fists. Happiness and blessing. No, let ekibyme be the pensioners that they may be ruined. Let man and wife be party that they may be ruined. I am a witch. I am a sorceress. I shall incite you to evil doing. I shall be what my reputation is. She seized the letter and flung it in Yasta's face. The black paper fluttered out and fell on the floor. Yasta knew it too well. You have sinned against me, Yasta. You have misjudged one who has been a second mother to you.  You shall accept ekiby and it shall ruin you for you are weak.   Margarita Selsing's obituary is that of a witch. Yours shall be that of a spendthrift and an oppressor of the poor. She sank back on the pillows and all was still. Through the silence rang a muffled blow. Now one and then another. The sledged hammer had begun its far echoing work. Listen, said Yasta Beiling. So sounds Margarita Selsing's obituary. That is not a prank of drunken pensioners. That is the song of the victory of labor raised in honor of a good old worker. Do you hear what the hammer says? Thanks, it says. Thanks for good work. Thanks for bread which you have given the poor. Thanks for roads which you have opened. Thanks for districts which you have cultivated. Thanks for pleasure with which you have filled your halls. Thanks, it says, and sleep in peace. Your work shall live and continue. Your house shall always be a home for happy laborer. Thanks, it says, and do not judge us who have sinned. You who are now starting on the journey to the regions of peace. Think gentle thoughts of us who still live. Yasta ceased but the sledgehammer went on speaking. All the voices which had ever spoken kindly to the mages wife were mingled with the ring of the hammer. Gradually her features relaxed as if the shadow of death had fallen over her. Annalisa came in and announced that the gentleman from Högfors had come. The mages wife let them go. She would not make any will. Oh, just a barling man of many deeds, she said. So you have conquered once more. Bend down and let me bless you. The fever returned with redouble strength. The deathrattle began. The body toiled through dreary suffering. But the spirit soon knew nothing of it. It began to gaze into the heaven which is opened for the dying. So an hour passed and the short death struggle was over. She lay there so peaceful and beautiful that those about her were deeply moved. My dear old mistress said justa. So have I seen you once before. Now has Margareta Selsing come back to life. Now she will never again yield to the mages wife at Ikeby. When the pensioners came in from the forge they were met by the news of Margareta Selsing's death. Did she hear the hammer? They asked. She had done so and they could be satisfied. They heard too that she had meant to give Ikeby to them but that the will had never been drawn. That they considered a great honor and rejoiced over it as long as they lived. But no one ever heard them lament over the riches they had lost. It is also said that on that Christmas night justa Berling stood by his young wife's side and made his last speech to the pensioners. He was creed at their fate when they now must all leave Ikeby. The ailments of old age awaited them. The old and worn out find a cold welcome. And so he spoke to them. Once more he called them old gods and knights who had risen up to bring pleasure into the land of iron. But he lamented that the pleasure garden where the butterfly winged pleasure roots is filled with destructive caterpillars and that its fruits are with it. Well he knew that pleasure was a good thing to the children of the earth and it must exist. But like a heavy riddle the question always lay upon the world how a man could be both gay and good. The easiest thing and yet the hardest he called it. He the two they had not been able to solve the problem. Now he wanted to believe that they had learnt it. That they had all learnt it during the year of joy and sorrow of happiness and despair. You dear old people in the old days you gave me precious gifts but what have I given you? Perhaps it may gladden you that your name sound again in connection with the dear old places. May all the brightness which belong to your life fall again over the tracks where you have lived. Boris still stands, Mjörne still stands Ikeby still lies by Lake Löfven surrounded by falls and lake by park and smiling meadows and when one stands on the broad terraces legends swarm about one like the beast of summer. But speaking of beasts let me tell one more old story. The little ruster who went as a drummer at the head of the Swedish army when in 1813 it marched into Germany could never worry of telling stories of that wonderful land in the south. The people there were as tall as church towers the swallows were as big as eagles the bees as keys. Well, but the bee hives the bee hives were like our ordinary bee hives. How did the bees get in it? Well, that they had to look out for, said the little ruster. Dear reader, must I say the same? The giant bees of fancy have now swarmed about us for a year and a day but how they are going to come into the beehive of fact that they really must find out for themselves. The end. End of section 38 and end of the book The Story of Just a Belling by Selma Lagerlö translated from the Swedish by Paul and Bancroft Flak and read by Lars Rolander. Thank you for listening.