Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Auction at Björne
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make an auction of it all. Away to strangers with
it! Away to be soiled in the cotters’ huts, to be
destroyed in the charge of the stranger! Did n’t he
know them well? Those old pieces of furniture,
fallen from high estate, to be seen in the peasants’
huts, fallen as his daughter had fallen! Away with
them all to the four corners of heaven, so that no
eye could find them, no hand could gather them
together again!
When the auction opened, he had filled half the
salon with an incredible jumble of household goods.
Across the room he had placed a long counter.
Behind this stood the auctioneer and cried the goods,
and the clerk sat there making notes, and Melchior
Sinclaire had a cask of gin standing beside him.
At the other end of the room, in the hall, and out
in the yard, stood the buyers. There was a great
crowd of people and much shouting and laughter.
The sale was brisk, and one thing was cried after
another, while by the side of his cask, with all his
possessions in indescribable confusion behind him,
sat Melchior Sinclaire, half drunk and half crazy.
The hair stood stiffly erect above his red face, his
eyes rolled bloodshot and furious. He shouted and
laughed as if he were in the best of tempers, and he
called up every purchaser and gave him a glass of
his gin.
Among those who saw him thus was Gösta Berling,
who had come in with the crowd, but avoided
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