Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Ball at Ekeby
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and chain and his beaver cloak, and was on the point
of staking his horse and sledge when Sintram
interrupted him.
“Put up something to change the luck,” was the
advice of the wicked owner of Fors; “put up
something to win.”
“The devil knows where I am to find it!”
“Stake your heart’s dearest treasure, brother
Melchior—stake your daughter.”
“You can do that without fear,” said Gösta,
laughing; “that stake I shall never take home.”
The great Melchior Sinclaire could do nothing
else than laugh also. He did not approve of
Marienne’s name being mentioned at the gaming-table,
but the idea was so absurdly improbable he could
not be angry. Stake and lose Marienne to Gösta?
Yes, he could dare that.
“That is to say,” he explained, “that if you can
get her consent, I will set my blessing on the
marriage on this card.”
Gösta staked all his gains, and the game began.
He won, and the proprietor of Björne gave up
playing. He could not fight against Fortune, he saw.
Well, Gösta Berling, does not your heart beat at
this? Don’t you understand your fate? What was
the meaning of Marienne’s kisses and her anger?
Don’t you understand a woman’s heart? And now
this stake won too! Don’t you see that fate wills
what love wills? Up, Gösta Berling!
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