Full resolution (TIFF) - On this page / på denna sida - Chapter I. The hero.
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for doing so; but since you have lost that, and nothlng remains
to you but your forest cot, you do not wish to have the people
talk about you. You have always been a clever woman, Mother
Ingierd, and just as much honoured by all as before."
"Bad crops and wicked people were the cause of our
mlsfortune; but we are content with our lot, and feel assured that
everything the Lord wills for us, will serve for our good. But
you, wagon-master Swen, need not be so vain-glorious as to
remind us of such matters; for it is not good to glory in the
misfortunes of others."
"I have not done so either; I merely spoke of the pony, and
in that way by accident I hit upon it. You must not take it
so, for I certainly had no evil intention," said the wagon-master,
almost begging her pardon.
"So much the better for you, but what you have said
concerning the pony troubles me. May God preserve the poor
animal, for it is the only thing left to us of our former wealth."
"Do not trouble yourself about that," said Ivar, consolingly.
"Courier or not, I hope he will drive like a man; besides, you
know that I understand driving, and how to deal with
noblemen. Depend upon it, everything will go right."
Now Father Christopher was to be heard driving the pony
and cart before the door. At the familiar neigh of the white
pony, Ivar plucked his mother’s sleeves, and drew her aside.
"Give me a cake or two, mother, if you can; I must give the
pony a little something to-night."
Mother Ingierd hastily reached her hand above, and took from
the barely provided pole which was suspended beneath the
ceiling, a cake of bread. [1] "I can not well spare any more, dear
Ivar; but hurry now, and put the bread in your jacket-pocket,
that your father may not see it; for you know he does not like
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