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which seemed to be enveloping her. It was stupidity,
rank stupidity, no one could sign away his soul to
the devil; but she had no control over her thoughts,
the twilight hung so heavily over her, the forest
round about was so dark and quiet. She could not
escape the hour’s mysterious dread creeping over
her.
“Perhaps you think,” continued Sintram, “there
isn’t much to be destroyed in him? But there is.
Has he ever ground down the peasants or deceived
his poor friends or played falsely? Has he been
the lover of married women?”
“I shall believe you are the devil himself, Herr
Sintram!”
“Let us exchange, Froken Anna you take
Gösta Berling, take him and marry him. Take him
and give your friends at Berga money. I give him
up to you and, you know, he is mine. Remember
it was n’t God who sent the wolves after you that
night, and let us exchange!”
“And what will you take in his place?”
Sintram grinned.
“I, what will I have? Oh, I shall be satisfied with
little. I only ask for that old woman in your sledge,
Froken Anna.”
“Satan—tempter,” Anna cried, “leave me! Am
I to fail an old friend who depends upon me? Am I
to leave her to you, that you may drive her to
madness?”
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