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in giving herself, with lovely face and great wealth,
to an old man. And they let her sit out ten dances.
She was furious.
At the eleventh dance a man of the most insignificant
appearance, one with whom no one else
cared to dance, approached her and invited her to
waltz.
“As the bread is finished, the crusts must be
brought on the table,” she said.
Then they played forfeits. Fair-haired girls put
their heads together and sentenced her to kiss the
one she loved the best, waiting, with covert smiles,
to see the proud beauty kiss old Dahlberg.
But she rose, stately in her anger, and said,
“Shall I not rather box the ears of him I love the least?”
And the next moment Gösta’s cheek burned from
the stroke of her firm hand.
He flushed red, controlling himself, caught her
hand, and holding it fast a moment, whispered,
“Meet me in the red drawing-room downstairs in
half an hour.”
His blue eyes held her in magic fetters; she felt
she must obey.
She met him there, proud and angry.
“What concern is it of yours, Gösta Berling,
whom I marry?”
He could not speak kindly to her yet, nor did he
think it good policy to mention Ferdinand at once.
“To sit out ten dances seems to me a light
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