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wily as to die; nothing that so cheats an honest
man, suspecting nothing. Lie down and die, I say!”
Gösta listened with dismay to what Sintram said.
He bewailed the miscarriage of well-laid plans. He
had wished to destroy all the Löfsjö country and
see desolation round the Löfven shores. That was
why he had made the cavaliers lords of the country
side, that was the reason he had allowed the Broby
parson to impoverish the people, that was why
he had called down the drought and the famine. At
Broby Fair the decisive blow was to have been
struck. Wearied by misfortune, the people would
give themselves to murder and theft. Afterwards
the law would prosecute and impoverish them still
farther. The famine riots and all kinds of adversity
would lay waste the country, till at last it would
grow so bad and hateful that no one could live
there, and it would all be Sintram’s work. It would
be his joy and pride, because he was wicked. He
loved desolate waste and unbroken ground—but
that man, who had been elever enough to die at the
right moment, had spoiled it all.
Then Gösta asked him what purpose it would
all have served.
“It would have pleased me, Gösta, for I am
wicked. I am the bear from the hills, I am the
snowstorm over the plain; I love to kill and persecute.
Away, say I, away with men and their work. I hate
them! I let them run through my claws, and allow
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