Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Nygård Peasant Girl
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many eyes. They all showed a silent worship of the
noblest they had seen; they were happy to see that
one among them had such a great love for goodness.
All could not shake hands with her. There
were so many, and the Countess was tired and weak.
But all could go up and look at her, and they could
shake hands with Gösta; his arms could endure the
shaking.
Gösta stood there as in a dream. That night had
brought a new love into his heart.
“Oh, my people,” he thought, “my people, how
I love you!” He felt love for all the crowd who
were marching away into the night, with the dead
girl at their head; all those in coarse clothes and
bad-smelling boots; all those who lived in the grey huts
at the edge of the forest; all those who could not
wield a pen, and often could not read; all those who
had never known the richness and fulness of life,
nothing but the strife for daily bread.
He loved them with a painful burning tenderness,
which forced tears into his eyes. He knew not
what it was he wanted to do for them, but he loved
them each and all, with their faults and crimes and
misfortunes. O God, if the day would ever come
again that he should be loved by them!
He awoke from his dream. His wife had put her
hand on his arm. The people had gone. They were
alone on the steps.
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