Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Young Countess
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individual. You are Necessity steering the course.
I am Desire which tames the will, and so she is
carried helpless, ever deeper and deeper downward.”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” growled Beerencreutz;
“they are after us,”—and a whistling cut of the
whip urged Don Juan to still greater speed.
“There are the wolves, here is the booty,” cried
Gösta. “Don Juan, my boy, imagine yourself a
young elk. Break your way through the ensnaring
bushes, wade through the marsh. Leap from the
crest of the hill range into the clear lake, swim over
with proudly lifted head, and vanish, vanish into
the dense darkness of the firwood. Run, Don Juan,
run like a young elk!”
Joy filled his wild heart at the speed. The shouts
of his pursuers were songs of exultation. Joy filled
his wild heart when he felt the Countess shake with
fear, and heard her teeth chattering.
Suddenly he loosened the iron grasp in which he
had held her. He stood upright in the sledge, and
swung his cap.
“I am Gösta Berling,” he shouted, “the lord
of ten thousand kisses and thirteen thousand
love-letters. Hurrah for Gösta Berling! Catch him who
can!”
And the next moment he was whispering to the
Countess, “Is n’t the speed fine? Is n’t our drive
royal? Beyond Löfven lies Vänern, beyond Vänern
lies the sea—endless stretches of clear, blue-black
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