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might drink as much as they pleased at the parsonage.
Hear him, what a feat he has accomplished!
When the Bishop and his two companions had
entered their carriage, and the door had been firmly
closed upon them, he had climbed upon the driving
seat, and had driven them a dozen miles on their
homeward way in the clear summer night.
It was then they had learned that life sits
insecurely even in the worthiest breasts. He had driven
at a break-neck pace, as a punishment on them for
not allowing an honest man to drink in peace.
He did not drive along the road, or guide the
horses, but went over ditches, and half-cleared fields
full of tree stumps. He tore down the hillsides and
along the shores of lakes, where the water splashed
over the wheels and the carriage half sank in the
marshy ground, and over bare rocks, where the
horses slid downward on stiffly braced feet. And
meanwhile, behind the leather curtains, the Bishop
and his companions were muttering prayers in terror
for their lives—they had never known such danger
before.
Imagine what was their appearance when they
arrived at Rissäter post station, alive, but shaking
like peas in a pod!
“What is the meaning of this, Captain Kristian?”
asked the Bishop, as the Captain opened the
door for him.
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