Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Young Countess
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“my hand is n’t suitable for any young lady to kiss.
Yesterday it was red from the blood of an elk;
to-night it was black with soot after a fight with a
coal-heaver. The Count has passed a noble and
high-minded sentence that is sufficient. Come,
Beerencreutz.”
The Count placed himself in his way.
“Stay,” he said, “my wife must obey. I desire her
to know what it is to act on her own responsibility.”
Gösta looked helpless. The Countess was quite
pale, but she did not move.
“Go!” said the Count.
“Henrik—I can’t.”
“You can,” he answered, sternly; “"you can, but
I know what you want. You want to force me to
fight the man, because you are capricious and don’t
like him. Well, if you won’t give him satisfaction, I
must. You women are always delighted when men
are killed for your sake. You are in fault, but you
will not make amends for it. I must therefore do it.
I am obliged to fight a duel, my Countess, and in
a few hours I shall be a bloody corpse.”
She gave him a long look, and she saw him as
he was, stupid, cowardly, inflated with pride and
vanity, the most pitiable of men.
“Calm yourself,” she said, and she was now cold
as ice; “I will do it.”
But now Gösta Berling seemed out of his mind.
“Countess, you shall not, never, never! You are
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