Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Old Carriages
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red and gold. There stands the first cariole seen in
Värmland, brought there by Beerencreutz as spoil
from the war of 1814. There are every conceivable
kind of shay and chaise with swaying springs—post-chaises,
extraordinary vehicles of torturing construction,
with their seats resting on wooden springs.
They are all there, all the murderous types of equipages
which have been sung about in the times
of road travelling. And there also stands the long
sledge which holds all the twelve cavaliers, and
poor, frozen, old Cousin Kristoffer’s covered sledge,
and Örneclou’s family sledge with the moth-eaten
bear-skin cover and the worn crest on the
splash-board, and the racing sledges innumerable racing
sledges.
Many are the cavaliers who lived and died at
Ekeby. Their names are forgotten, and they have
no place any longer in people’s hearts; but the
Major’s wife has gathered together all the old
carriages in which they arrived at Ekeby, and preserved
them in the old coach-house.
They also sleep and dream, and let the dust
gather thickly over them. They never dream to
leave Ekeby again—never again. So the leather
bursts in the footbags, and the wheels fall to pieces,
and the wood-work rots—the old carriages don’t
want to live any longer, they want to die.
But on that February night the Lady of Ekeby
ordered the coach-house to be opened, and, by the
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