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the applause, that were to blame; the poor young
people were not in fault. They had not intended it.
She had not refused the hands of earls and rejected
millions for love of Gösta Berling, neither had he
forgotten Anna Stjärnhök. No, they were not to
blame, they had not meant to do it.
It was the gentle Lövenborg, he with the tears in
his eyes and a smile on his lips, who acted as
curtain-puller that evening. Troubled by the
memories of many sorrows, he paid little attention to
the things of this world, and had never learned
to manage them properly. Now, when he saw that
Gösta and Marienne had taken up a new position,
he thought it was part of the tableau, and he pulled
up the curtain.
They on the balcony noticed nothing till the
thunder of applause again deafened them.
Marienne started and tried to escape, but Gösta
held her firmly, whispering, “Stand still, they think
it part of the tableau.”
He felt how her body trembled, and the glow of
her kisses died on her lips. They were obliged to
stand like this while the curtain again rose and fell,
and every time a hundred pairs of eyes saw them,
a hundred pairs of hands gave forth a storm of
applause, for it was a lovely sight to see two so
beautiful give a representation of love’s happiness. No
one thought those kisses meant anything but a
theatrical pretence; no one guessed that the Señora
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