Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Auction at Björne
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smallpox, but it was a mild case—the medicine-chest
at Ekeby contained all that was necessary to
save her life. She never thought of dying: she only
waited to be well enough to go with Gösta to the
pastor and arrange for the banns to be published.
But now the fever had left her. She was cool and
prudent again. It seemed to her as if she alone was
wise in this world of fools. She neither loved nor
hated; she understood her father, she understood
them all. He that understands does not hate. She
had been told that Melchior Sinclaire was going
to have an auction at Björne and make away with
all his possessions so that she would have nothing
to inherit from him. They said he intended making
the wreck as complete as possible. He would
sell the furniture and household goods first, then
the horses and cattle and farm implements, and
lastly, the estate itself; and he intended putting the
money in a bag and sinking it in the Löfven. Her
inheritance would be ruin, dissipation, and dismay.
Marienne smiled approvingly when she heard this.
Such was his character; he was sure to act like that.
It seemed extraordinary to her that she should
have poured forth that poem of love. She, too, had
dreamed of the miner’s hut—she, as well as others.
It was wonderful to her that she had ever had
a dream. She sighed for nature—she was weary of
constantly acting a part. She had never had a strong
feeling. She hardly mourned her lost beauty, but she
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