Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Iron from Ekeby
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good to her. She shall be our queen, our empress;
but none will know she is there, we will guard her so
well. Perhaps she would be happy among us, cherished
like a daughter by all the old men. She might
make men of us; we might even come to drink
almond milk and talk French. And when our year
is over, what then? With time comes help.”
He had never dared ask himself if he loved her.
He could not hope to possess her without sin, and
he would never draw anything low or mean over
her. He knew that. But to have her hidden at Ekeby,
and to be kind to her when others had been cruel,
and to let her enjoy everything that life gave—ah,
what a dream, what a blessed dream!
Then he awoke from his dream, for the young
Countess was in wild despair, and her voice had the
piercing tone of desperation. She had thrown
herself upon her knees to the cavaliers, praying to be
allowed to leave the barge.
“God has not forgiven me yet,” she cried; “let
me go!”
Gösta saw that none of the others had the strength
to obey her, and he realized that he must do it.
He, loving her, must do it.
He experienced a difficulty in walking, as if every
limb in his body strove against the power of his
will, but he dragged himself to her and said he
would row her to land.
She rose instantly. He lifted her into the boat
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