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I believe his soul again took wing as he walked by
the side of that silent girl, who had never confided
in any one before. I think he felt himself like a child
again too, good and virtuous.
“But if he loved her, why did he not remember
that he could give her no worse gift than his love?
He, one of the outcasts of the world, what was
he doing, what was he thinking of, as he walked by
the side of the Count’s daughter? What did he, the
discharged pastor, feel when she confided her
religious dreams to him? What was he, who had been
a drunkard and brawler, and would be one again
as soon as the opportunity offered—what was he
doing by the side of her who dreamed of a
bride-groom in heaven? Why did he not flee, flee far from
her? Would it not have been better for him to
wander stealing and begging through the country than
that he should walk there in the silent pine wood
and be good and virtuous and devout again, when
his past life could not be lived over again, and it
was unavoidable that Ebba Dohna should learn to
love him?
“You are not to think he looked a miserable
drunkard with ashy cheeks and red eyes. He was
ever a stately man, beautiful and strong in body and
soul. He bore himself like a king, and had an iron
constitution which was not impaired by the wildest
life.”
“Is he still alive?” asked the Countess.
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