Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Young Countess
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a clever manager,” she used to say, “as his mother
is. Do teach me how you set up a loom!”
And the old ladies sighed a two-fold sigh—the
first over Count Henrik, who could imagine his
mother to be a good housewife; and the second over
the difficulty of initiating any one so young and
ignorant into such a complicated thing. You had
only to mention skeins and heddles, mounting
single and double threading, and it all spun round in
her head.
No one who saw the young Countess could
help wondering why she married that stupid Count
Henrik.
He who is stupid is to be pitied, whoever he is,
but he is most to be pitied if he lives in Värmland.
There were already many stories abroad about his
stupidity, and he was only a few years over twenty.
The way he entertained Anna Stjärnhök during a
sleighing party is a specimen.
“You are very beautiful, Anna,” he said.
“Nonsense, Henrik!”
“You are the most beautiful girl in all
Värmland.”
“Certainly I’m not.”
“You are, in any case, the loveliest at this
sleighing party.”
“Oh, no, Henrik, I’m not.”
“Well, you are certainly the best looking in this
sledge. You can’t deny that?”
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