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east, one in the west. Nothing is too high for him,
nothing too low; one day a count’s daughter, the
next a beggar girl. Nothing in the world is so roomy
as his heart. But wretched, wretched is she who loves
a cavalier! She must search for him while he lies
drunk on the wayside. She must silently watch him
laying waste the home of her children at the
gambling-table. She must endure seeing him hanging
about strange women. Oh, Elizabeth, if a cavalier
begs a decent woman for a dance, she ought to
refuse him; if he gives her flowers, she ought to throw
them away and trample on them; if she loves him,
she ought to die rather than marry him. Among the
cavaliers was one who was a disgraced clergy man.…
He was dismissed from his calling because he drank.
He was drunk in church: he drank the sacramental
wine. Have you heard of him?”
“No.”
“After he was suspended, he ranged the country
as a beggar. He drank like a madman. He would
even steal to get gin.”
“What is his name?”
“He is no longer at Ekeby. The Major’s wife
took him in hand, gave him clothes, and persuaded
your mother-in-law, Countess Märta, to make him
tutor to your husband, young Count Henrik.”
“A discharged clergyman?”
“Oh, he was a young and strong man, and
learned. There was nothing the matter with him as
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