Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Beggar
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awaited him beyond the Löfven, where the powers
of death would at last gain the mastery over him,
where hunger and cold and weariness and past
drunkenness would at last destroy the body, which
had been able to withstand so much.
He returned to the tavern, intending to remain
there till the evening, and entered the tap-room,
where he rested in heavy mood on the bench, still
dreaming of the everlasting forest.
The landlady took pity on him, and gave him
a glass of strong gin. She even gave him a second
glass, as he begged so eagerly for it; but more than
that she refused, and the beggar grew desperate. He
must have some more of that strong, sweet drink,
his heart must dance once more, his thoughts flame
in the transport of intoxication! Oh, that sweet
drink! Summer’s sun and summer’s song, summer’s
scent and beauty were surging in its white
transparency. Once again, before he departed into
night and darkness, he must drink of the summer’s
sun and joy.
So he bartered first the flour, then the sack, and
lastly the sledge for drink. He had got sufficient
now, and slept away the most of the afternoon in
the tap-room.
When he awoke, he knew there was but one thing
left for him to do. As his miserable body had so
completely gained ascendency over his soul; as he
had fallen so low that he could betray the trust of
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