Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Christmas Dinner
<< prev. page << föreg. sida << >> nästa sida >> next page >>
Below is the raw OCR text
from the above scanned image.
Do you see an error? Proofread the page now!
Här nedan syns maskintolkade texten från faksimilbilden ovan.
Ser du något fel? Korrekturläs sidan nu!
This page has been proofread at least once.
(diff)
(history)
Denna sida har korrekturlästs minst en gång.
(skillnad)
(historik)
in her bitter sorrow. “May the wayside be your
home, and the strawstack be your bed!” And she
laid one hand on the door-handle, and lifted the
other on high.
“Mark you—you who have beheld my
downfall—mark that your hour is coming soon. You
shall be cast abroad, and your place shall be empty.
How will you stand where I do not support you?
You, Melchior Sinclaire, you have a heavy hand,
and you let your wife feel it—take care! You,
parson of Broby, the punishment is coming! Madame
Uggla, look to your home, poverty is at its doors!
You beautiful women, Elizabeth Dohna, Marienne
Sinclaire, Anna Stjärnhök, don’t think I shall be the
only one to fly from my home! Be on your guard,
cavaliers, a storm is rising, and you will be swept
away—your day is now past—yes, forever past! I
do not mourn for myself, but for you, for the storm
will go over your heads, and who can stand when
I fall? Oh, my heart is heavy for the sake of the
people! Who will give them work when I am
gone?”
She opened the door, and then Kristian Bergh
lifted his head and said, “How long must I lie here
at your feet, Margarita Celsing? Will you not forgive
me, that I may rise and fight for you?”
It was a hard struggle the Major’s wife had with
herself, for she knew that if she forgave him, he
would fight her husband, and the man who had
<< prev. page << föreg. sida << >> nästa sida >> next page >>
