Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Auction at Björne
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sake of the bear has certainly gone for the sake of the
provision basket.”
Melchior Sinclaire laughed till it echoed in the
empty yard. He gave the servant a daler for his
sharp answer.
“Go and tell my daughter that I have come to
fetch her. She won’t freeze, for I have the sledge
cover and a wolf-skin rug to wrap her in.”
“Will not the squire please to enter?”
“Thanks. I am well enough here.”
The man disappeared, and Melchior began his
waiting. He was in such splendid mood that day,
nothing could anger him. He expected to wait
some time for Marienne, probably she was not up
yet. He must amuse himself by looking about him.
A long icicle hung from the point of the roof,
and the sun gave himself much trouble in melting
it. It began from the top, melted a drop, and wanted
it to run down the icicle and fall to earth, but
before it reached halfway, it froze up afresh, and
the sunshine made another effort and another, but
always failed. At last there came a free-lance of a
little sunbeam, which took possession of the tip of
the icicle—a tiny little sunbeam, which shone and
glittered with eagerness, till at last it
gained its point, and a drop fell with a splash to the ground.
The great land proprietor watched it and laughed.
“That was n’t at all so stupid of you,” he said to
the sunbeam.
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