Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Amor Vincit Omnia
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are drawn in the thousand wrinkles round your
toothless mouth. Death will take you the sooner
from your desk for not letting Life tempt you away
from it.
Uncle Eberhard had just finished his last line and
had underscored it heavily. Taking from the various
drawers the closely written pages of manuscript,
different parts of his great work, the work that was
to immortalize the name of Eberhard Berggren, he
arranged them in a huge pile. He sat gazing at his
labor of a lifetime in satisfied silence, when the door
opened, and the young Countess came in.
There she stood, the idol of the old cavaliers, she
whom they served and worshipped as grandparents
serve and worship the first grandchild. Had they
not found her in sickness and want and bestowed
on her the good things of this world, as did the king
in the fairy-tale with the beautiful beggar-maid he
found in the forest? It was for her that the horns and
the violins again sounded at Ekeby; for her that all
on the great estate moved and breathed and labored.
She was lonely in the great house with her cavaliers
gone, and wanted to see the cavaliers’ wing—that
much-talked-of room. She entered softly and
looked around at the whitewashed walls and the
yellow checkered bed-hangings, but on finding
some one in the room she became embarrassed.
Uncle Eberhard rose to greet her and solemnly
led her up to the big pile of manuscript.
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