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sobs, his arms outspread for a last embrace, while
his eyes sought pity from an unkind heaven.
Out in the road the mists began to clear for Squire
Julius, and he presently discovered that he was
seated on the jolting back of an animal. It is said
that he fell to pondering what can happen in
seventeen years. Old Kaisa was visibly changed. Could
it be that the oats and clover at Ekeby had wrought
this transformation? He cried—I do not know if
the stones at the roadside or the birds in the bush
heard him, but certain it is that he cried:
“May the devil martyr me, if you haven’t grown
horns, Kaisa!”
After some deliberation, he let himself slide very
slowly off the back of the ox, climbed into the
wagon, sank down on the lunch-box, and drove on,
still in a brown study.
By and by, as he neared Broby, he heard time-sure
singing:
“One, two, three,
Oh, hee, hee,
Värmland’s hunters are coming, see!”
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