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- The Ball at Ekeby
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The Ball at Ekeby
Oh, women of the olden days! To talk of you
is to talk of Paradise; for you were perfect
beauty, perfect light—ever youthful, ever charming,
and as mild as the eyes of a mother when she
gazes at her child. Soft as a little squirrel, you clung
about man’s neck, and your voice never shook with
anger, your brow was never ruffled, your soft hand
never grew harsh and hard. Like lovely saints, like
bejewelled pictures, you stood in the temple of
your homes. Incense and prayers were offered you,
love worked its miracles by your power, and round
your heads poetry cast its aureola.
Oh, women of the olden days! This is the story
of how one of you gave her love to Gösta Berling.
Scarcely had Anna Stjärnhök’s kisses died on
his lips, scarcely had he forgotten the pressure of her
arms around his neck, but sweeter lips and whiter
arms were stretched toward him. He could do nothing
but receive the loveliest of gifts, for the heart
is incorrigible in its habit of loving. For every
sorrow caused by love, it knows no other cure than a
newer love, as those who have burned themselves
with hot iron deaden the pain by burning themselves
once more.
A fortnight after the ball at Borg a great festival
was given at Ekeby.
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Project Runeberg, Sun Dec 10 03:53:53 2023
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