 Sektion 9 av Storie av Gösta Bärling Det här är en LibriVox rekordning. All LibriVox rekordning är i den publiska domen. För mer information eller att vilja, visst visst LibriVox.org. Riddning av Lars Rolander. Storie av Gösta Bärling av Selma Lagerlöv. Translaterat från Sverige av Paulin Bäncroft Flack. Part 1, chapter 7. The Old Vehicles. If it should happen to you that you are sitting or lying and reading this at night, as I am writing it during the silent hours, then do not draw a sigh of relief here and think that the good pensioners were allowed to have an undisturbed sleep after they had come back with Marianne and made her a good bed in the best guest room beyond the big drawing room. They went to bed and went to sleep, but it was not their lot to sleep in peace and quiet till noon, as you and I, dear reader, might have done if we had been awake till four in the morning and our limbs ached with fatigu. It must not be forgotten that the old major's wife went about the country with beggar's wallet and stick, and that it never was her way when she had anything to do to think of a poor, tired sinner's convenience, and now she would do it even less as she decided to drive the pensioners that very night from Ekeby. Gone was the day when she sat in splendor and magnificence at Ekeby and sowed happiness over the earth, as God sowed stars over the skies. And while she wandered homeless about the land, the authority and honour of the greatest state was left in the pensioners hands to be guarded by them, as the wind guard ashes, as the spring sun guards the snowdrift. It sometimes happened that the pensioners drove out six or eight of them in a long sledge drawn by four horsey, with chiming bells and braidedrains. If they met the major's wife as she went as a beggar, they did not turn away their heads. Clenched fists were stretched against her. By a violent swing of the sledge she was forced up into the drifts by the roadside, and major fucks, the bear killer, always took pains to speak three times to take away the evil effect of meeting the old woman. They had no pity on her. She was as odious as a witch to them as she went along the road. If any mishap had befallen her, they would no more have grieved than he who shots off his gun on Easter Eve, loaded with brass hooks, grieves that he has hit a witch flying by. It was to secure their salvation that these unhappy pensioners persecuted the major's wife. People have often been cruel and tortured one another with the greatest hardness when they have trembled for their souls. When the pensioners late at night reeled from the drinking tables to the window to see if the night was calm and clear, they often noticed a dark shadow which glided over the grass and knew that the major's wife had come to see her beloved home. Then the bachelor's wing rang with the pensioners scornful laughter, and jibes flew from the open windows down to her. Verily lovelessness and arrogance began to take possession of the penniless adventurer's heart. Syndrome had planted hate. Their souls could not have been in greater danger if the major's wife had remained at Ichibi. More die in flight than in battle. The major's wife cherished no great anger against the pensioners. If she had had the power, she would have whipped them like naughty boys and then granted them her grace and favor again. But now she feared for her beloved lands which were in the pensioner's hands to be guarded by them as wolfs guards the sheep, as crows guard the springgrain. There are many who have suffered the same sorrow. She is not the only one who has seen ruin come to a beloved home and well kept feels fall into decay. They have seen their childhoods home look at them like a wounded animal. Many feel like culprits when they see the trees there wither away and the paths covered with tufts of grass. De wish to throw themselves on their knees in those fields, which once boasted of rich harvists, and beg them not to blame them for the disgrace which befalls them, and they turn away from the poor old horses. They have not courage to meet their glance, and they dare not stand by the gate and see the cattle come home from pasture. There is no spot on earth so sad to visit as an old home in ruin. When I think what that proud ekibi must have suffered under the pensioner's rule, I wish that the plan of the major's wife had been fulfilled, and that ekibi had been taken from them. It was not her thought to take back her dominion again. She had only one object to rid her home of these madmen, these locusts, these wild brigands in whose path no grass grew. While she went begging about the land and lived on alms, she continually thought of her mother, and the thought bit deep into her heart, that there could be no bettering for her till her mother lifted the curse from her shoulders. No one had ever mentioned the old woman's death, so she must be still living up there by the ironworks in the forest. Ninety years old, she still lived in unceasing labour, watching over her milkpans in the summer, her charcoal kilns in the winter, working till death, longing for the day when she would have completed her life's duties. And the major's wife thought that her mother had lived so long in order to be able to lift the curse from her life, that mother could not die who had called down such misery on her child. So the major's wife wanted to go to the old woman, that they might both get rest. She wished to struggle up through the dark woods by the long river to the home of her childhood. Till then she could not rest. There were many who offered her a warm home, and all the comforts of a faithful friendship. But she would not stop anywhere. Grimm and fierce, she went from house to house, for she was weighed down by the curse. She was going to struggle up to her mother, but first she wanted to provide for her beloved home. She would not go and leave it in the hands of light-minded spendthrifts, of worthless drunkards, of good for nothing disperses of God's gifts. Should she go to find on her return, her inheritance gone to waste, her hammer silent, her horse is starving, her servant scattered, ah no, once more she will rise in her might and drive out the pensioners. She well understood that her husband saw with joy how her inheritance was squandered. But she knew him enough to understand, also that if she drove away his devouring locusts, he would be too lazy to get new ones. Where the pensioners removed, then her old bailiff and overseer could carry on the work at Ekböy in the old groves. And so, many nights her dark shadow had glided along the black lanes. She had stolen in and out of the cottagers' houses. She had whispered with the miller and the millhands in the lower floor of the great mill. She had conferred with the smith in the dark coal house. And they had all sworn to help her. The honour of the great estate should no longer be left in the hands of careless pensioners to be guarded as the wind guards the ashes, as the wolf guards the flock of sheep. And this night, when the merry gentlemen had danced, played and drunk until they had sank down on their beds in a dead sleep, this very night they must go. She has let them have their good time. She has sat in the smithy and awaited the end of the ball. She has waited still longer until the pensioners should return from their nocturnal drive. She has sat in silent waiting until the message was brought her that the last light was out in the bachelor's wing and that the great house set. Then she rose and went out. The major's wife ordered that all the workmen on the estate should be gathered together up by the bachelor's wing. She herself went to the house. There she went to the main building, knocked and was let in. The young daughter of the minister at Ruby, whom she had trained to be a capable maid servant, was there to meet her. You are so welcome, madam, said the maid and kissed her hand. Put out the light, said the major's wife. Do you think I cannot find my way without a candle? And then she began a wandering through the silent house. She went from the cellar to the attic and said farewell. With stealthy step they went from room to room. The major's wife was filled with old memories, the maid neither side nor sobbed, but tear after tear flowed unchecked from her eyes while she followed her mistress. The major's wife had her open the linen closet and silver chest and passed her hand over the fine damask tablecloth and the magnificent silver service. She felt caressingly the mighty pile of pillows in the store closet. She touched all the implements, the looms, the spinning wheels, and the winding bobbins. She thrust her hand into the spice box and felt the rose of tallow candles, which hung from the rafters. The candles are dry, she said. They can be taken down and put away. She was down in the cellar, carefully lifted the beer casks, and grouped over the rose of wine bottles. She went into the pantry and kitchen. She felt everything, examined everything. She stretched out her hand and said farewell to everything in her house. Last she went through the rooms. She found the long broad sofas in their places. She laid her hand on the cool slabs of the marble tables. And on the mirrors with their frames of gilded dancing nymphs. This is a rich house, she said. A noble man was he who gave me all this for my own. In the great drawing room, where the dance had lately whirled, the stiff-backed armchairs already stood in prim order against the walls. She went over to the piano and very gently struck a chord. Joy and Gladys were no strangers here in my time either, she said. She went also to the guest room beyond. It was pitch dark. The mages wife broke with her hands and came against the maid's face. Are you weeping? She said, for she felt her hands were wet with tears. Then the jang girl burst out sobbing. Madam, she cried. Madam, they will destroy everything. Why do you leave us and let the pensioners ruin your house? The mages wife drew back the curtain and pointed out into the yard. Is it I who have taught you to weep and lament? She cried. Look out, the place is full of people. Tomorrow there will not be one pensioner left at Ikebin. Are you coming back? Asked the maid. My time has not yet come, said the mages wife. The highway is my home and the haystack my bed. But you shall watch over Ikebin for me child while I am away. And they went on. Neither of them knew or thought that Marianne slept in that very room. But she did not sleep. She was wide awake, heard everything, and understood it all. She had lain there in the bed and sung a hymn to love. You conquerer who have taken me out of myself, she said. I lay in fathomless misery and you have changed it to a paradise. My hand stuck fast to the iron latch of the closed door and were torn and wounded. On the threshold of my home my tears lie frozen to pearls of ice. Anger froze my heart when I heard the blows on my mother's back. In the cold snow drift I hoped to sleep away my anger, but you came. Oh love, child of fire, to one who was frozen by much cold you came. When I compare my sufferings to the glory won by them, they seem to me as nothing. I am free of all ties. I have no father nor mother, no home. People will believe all evil of me and turn away from me. It has pleased you to do this, oh love, for why should I stand higher than my beloved? Hand in hand we will wander out into the world. Just a bearing's pride is penniless. He found her in a snowdrift. We shall not live in lofty halls, but in a cottage at the edge of the wood. I shall help him to watch the kiln. I shall help him to set snares for partridges and hares. I shall cook his food and mend his clothes. Oh my beloved, how I shall long and mourn while I sit there alone by the edge of the wood and wait for you. But not for the days of riches, only for you. Only you shall I look for and miss. Your footstep on the forest path, your joyous song as you come with your axe on your shoulder. Oh my beloved, my beloved, as long as my life lasts I could sit and wait for you. So she lay and sang hymns to the heart-conquering god, and never once had closed her eyes in sleep when the mages wife came in. When she had gone, Marianne got up and dressed herself. Once more must she put on the black velvet dress and the thin satin slippers. She wrapped a blanket about her like a shawl, and hurried out once again into the terrible night. Calm, starlit, and bitingly cold the February night lay over the earth. It was as if it would never end, and the darkness and the cold of that long night lasted on the earth long, long after the sun had risen, long after the snowdrifts through which Marianne wandered had been changed to water. Marianne harred away from Ikeby to get help. She could not let those men who had rescued her from the snowdrift and opened their hearts and home to her be hunted away. She went down to Cher to major some cilius. It would be an hour before she could be back. When the mages wife had served far well to her home, she went out into the yard where her people were waiting and the struggle began. She placed them round about the high narrow house, the upper story of which was the pensioners farfamed home, the great room with the whitewashed walls, the red painted chests, and the great folding table where playing cards swim in the spilled brandy, where the broad beds are hidden by yellow striped curtains, where the pensioners sleep, and in the stable before full mangers the pensioners horses sleep and dream of the journeys of their youth. It is sweet to dream when they know that they never again shall leave the filled cribs, the warm stalls of Ikeby. In a musty old carriage house, where all the broken down coaches and worn out sledges were stored, was a wonderful collection of old vehicles. Many are the pensioners who have lived and died at Ikeby. Their names are forgotten on the earth, and they have no longer a place in men's hearts, but the mages wife has kept the vehicles in which they came to Ikeby. She has collected them all in the old carriage house, and there they stand and sleep, and dust falls thick, thick over them. But now in this February night the mages wife has the door open to the carriage house, and with lanterns and torches she seeks out the vehicles which belong to Ikeby's present pensioners. Beren Kroijts old dig and Erneklus coach painted with coat of arms and the narrow cutter which had brought Kazin Kristoffer. She does not care if the vehicles are for summer or winter, she only sees that each one gets his own. And in the stable they are now awake, all the pensioners old horses who had so lately been dreaming before full mangers. The dream shall be true. You shall again try the steep hills and the musty hay in the sheds of wayside inns, and drunken horse dealers sharp whips, and the mad races on ice so slippery that you tremble only to walk on it. The old beast's mouth ensnort when the bit is put into their toothless jaws. The old vehicle's creak and crack, pitiful infirmity which should have been allowed to sleep in peace till the end of the world, was now dragged out before all eyes. Stiff joints, halting forelegs, spavin and broken wind are shown up. The stable groom succeed however in getting the horses harnessed. Then they go and ask the mages wife in what just a bowling shall be put, for, as everyone knows, he came to Ikeby in the coal sledge of the mages wife. Put donch one in our best sledge, she says, and spread over it the bare skin with the silver claws. And when the groom scrumble, she continues, there is not a horse in my stable which I would not give to be rid of that man, remember that. Well, now the vehicles are awake and the horse is too, but the pensioners still sleep. It is now their time to be brought out in the winter night, but it is a more perilous deed to seize them in their beds than to lead out stiff-legged horses and shaky old carriages. They are bold, strong men, tried in a hundred adventures, they are ready to defend themselves till death. It is no easy thing to take them against their will from out their beds and down to the carriages which shall carry them away. The mages wife has them set fire to a haystack which stands so near the house that the flames must shine in to where the pensioners are sleeping. The haystack is mine, all Ikeby's mine, she says, and when the stack is in flames she cries, wake them now. But the pensioners sleep behind well-closed doors, the whole mass of people begin to cry out that terrible, fire, fire, but the pensioners sleep on. The master smits heavy sledgehammer, thunder against the door, but the pensioners sleep. A hard snowball breaks the window pane and flies into the room, rebounding against the bed curtains, but the pensioners sleep. They dream that a lovely girl throws a handkerchief at them, they dream of applause from behind fallen curtains, they dream of gay laughter and the deafening noise of midnight feasts. The noise of cannon at their ears, an ocean of ice-cold water, were needed to awake them. They have bowed, danced, played, acted and sung, they are heavy with wine, exhausted, and sleep asleep as deep as death's. This blessed sleep almost saves them. The people begin to think that this quiet conceals a danger. What if it means that the pensioners are already out to get help? What if it means that they stand awake, with finger on the trigger, on guard behind windows or door, ready to fall upon the first to enters? These men are crafty, ready to fight, they must mean something by their silence. Who can think it of them, that they would let themselves be surprised in their lairs like bears? The people bore their fire, fire, time after time, but nothing avails. Then, when all are trembling, the maidess wife herself takes an axe and burst open the outer door. Then she rushes alone up the stairs, throws open the door to the bachelor's wing, and calls into the room, fire! Hers is a voice which finds a better echo in the pensioner's ears than the people's outcry. A custom to obey that voice, twelve men at the same moment spring from their beds, see the flames, throw on their clothes and rush down the stairs out into the yard. But at the door stands the great master smith and two stout mealhands, and deep disgrace then befells the pensioners. Ich, as he comes down, is seized, thrown to the ground, and his feet bound. Thereupon is carried without ceremony to the vehicle prepared for him. None escaped, they were all caught. Beerenkreuz, the grim colonel was bound and carried away. Also Christian Barry, the mighty captain, and Eberhard, the philosopher. Even the invincible, the terrible Jösta Bärling was caught. The major's wife had succeeded. She was still greater than the pensioners. They are pitiful to see as they sit with bound limbs in the mouldy old vehicles. There are hanging heads and angry glances, and the yard rings with o's and wild burst of powerless rage. The major's wife goes from one to the other. You shall swear, she says, never to come back to Ikeby. Be gone, hag! You shall swear, she says, otherwise I will throw you into the bachelor's wing bound as you are, and you shall burn up in the air. For tonight I'm going to burn down the bachelor's wing. You dare not do that. Dare not. It's not Ikeby mine. Ah, you villain. Do you think I do not remember how you spit at me on the highway? Did I not long to set fire here just now and let you all burn up? Did you lift a finger to defend me when I was driven from my home? No, swear now. And she stands there so terrible, although she pretends perhaps to be more angry than she is. And so many men armed with axes stand about her. That they are obliged to swear, that no worse misfortune may happen. The major's wife has their clothes and boxes brought down, and has their hand fetters loosened, then the reins are laid in their hands. But much time has been consumed, and Marianne has reached fjärr. The major was no late riser, he was dressed when she came, she met him in the yard, he had been out with his bear's breakfast, he did not say anything when he heard her story, he only went in to the bears, put muscles on them, led them out and hurried away to Ikeby. Marianne followed him at a distance, she was dropping with fatigue, but then she saw a bright light of fire in the sky and was frightened nearly to death. What a night it was, a man beats his wife and leaves his child to freeze to death outside his door. Did a woman now mean to burn up her enemies? Did the old major mean to let loose the bears on his own people? She conquered her wariness, hurred past the major and ran madly up to Ikeby. She had a good start, when she reached the yard, she made her way through the crowd, when she stood in the middle of the ring, face to face with the major's wife, she cried as loud as she could. The major, the major is coming with the bears. There was consternation among the people, all eyes turned to the major's wife. You have gone for him, she said to Marianne. Run, cried the latter more earnestly, away for God's sake, I do not know what the major is thinking of, but yes, the bears with him, all stood still and looked at the major's wife. I thank you for your help children, she said quietly to the people. Everything which has happened tonight has been so arranged, that no one of you can be prosecuted by the law or get into trouble for it. Go home now, I do not want to see any of my people murder or be murdered, go now. Still the people waited. The major's wife turned to Marianne. I know that you are in love, she said, you act in love's madness. May the day never come when you must look on powerless at the ruin of your home. May you always be mistress over your tongue and your hand when anger fills the soul. Dear children, come now, come, she continued turning to the people. May God protect Ikeby, I must go to my mother. Oh Marianne, when you have got back your senses when Ikeby is ravaged and the land sighs in want. Think on what you have done this night, and look after the people. Thereupon she went followed by her people. When the major reached the yard he found there no living thing, but Marianne and a long line of horses with sledges and carriages. A long dismal line, where the horses were not worse than the vehicles, nor the vehicles worse than their owners, elused in the struggle of life where they all. Marianne went forward and freed them, she noticed how they bit their lips and looked away, they were ashamed as never before, a great disgrace had befallen them. I was not better off when I lay on my knees on the steps at Björne a couple of hours ago, said Marianne. And so, dear reader, what happened afterwards that night, how the old vehicles were put into the carriage house, the horses in the stable, and the pensioners in their house, I shall not try to relate. The dawn began to appear over the eastern hills, and the day came clear and calm. How much quieter the bright sunny days are than the dark nights under whose protecting wings be so prey hunt an owls hoot. I will only say that when the pensioners had gone in again, and had found a few drops in the last punch-bowl to fill their glasses, a sudden ecstasy came over them. A toast for the major's wife, they cried. Ah, she is a matchless woman. What better could they wish for than to serve her, to worship her? Was it not sad that the devil had got her in his power, and that all her endeavors were to send poor gentlemen's souls to hell? End of section 9 of the story of Jösta Berling, read by Lars Rolander. Section 10 of the story of Jösta Berling. This is a LibriVox recording, all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, reading by Lars Rolander. The story of Jösta Berling by Selma Lagerlöv, translated from the Swedish by Pauline Bancroft Flack. Part 1 Chapter 8 – The Great Bear in Görlita Cliff In the darkness of the forests dwell unholy creatures whose jaws are armed with horrible glittering teeth or sharp beaks whose feet have pointed claws which long to sink themselves in a blood-filled throat and whose eyes shine with murder's desires. There the wolves live who come out at night and hunt the peasants' sledge until the wife must take her little child which sits upon her knee and throw it to them to save her own and her husband's life. There the lynx lives, which the people call Jöppan, for in the woods at least it is dangerous to call it by its right name. He who speaks of it during the day had best see that the doors and windows of the sheep house are well close towards night, for otherwise it will come. It climbs right up the walls, for its claws are strong as steel nails, glides in through the smallest hole and throws itself on the sheep, and Jöppan hangs on their throats and drinks their blood and kills and tears till every sheep is dead. He does not cease his wild death-darns among the terrified animals as long as any of them show a sign of life. And in the morning the peasant finds all the sheep lying dead with torn throats for Jöppan leaves nothing living where he ravages. There the great owl lives, which hoots at dusk. If one mimics him, he comes whizzing down with outspread wings and strikes out one's eyes, for he is no real bird but an evil spirit. And there lives the most terrible of them all, the bear, who has the strength of twelve men, and who, when he becomes a devil, can be killed only with a silver bullet. And if one should chance to meet him in the wood, big and high as a wandering cliff, one must not run nor defend oneself. One must throw oneself down on the ground and pretend to be dead. Many small children have imagined themselves lying on the ground with a bear over them. He has rolled them over with his paw, and they have felt his hot breath on their faces. But they have lain quiet until he has gone away to dig a hole to bury them in. Then they have softly raised themselves up and stolen away slowly at first, then in mad haste. But think, think if the bear had not thought them really dead but had taken a bite. Or if he had been very hungry and wanted to eat them right up. Or if he had seen them when they moved and had run after them. Oh God! Terror is a witch. She sits in the dimness of the forest. Singes magic songs to people and fills their hearts with frightful thoughts. From her comes that deadly fear, which weighs down life and darkens the beauty of smiling landscapes. Nature is malignant, treacherous as a sleeping snake. One can believe nothing. There lies Leven's lake in brilliant beauty, but trust it not. It lures to destruction. Every year it must gather its tribute of the drowned. There lies the wood temptingly peaceful, but trust it not. The wood is full of unholy things, beset with evil spirits and bloodthirsty vagrants souls. Trust not the brook with its gliding waters. It is sudden sickness and death to wade in it after sunset. Trust not the cuckoo who sings so gaily in the spring. In the autumn he becomes a hawk with fierce eyes and terrible claws. Trust not the moss nor the heather nor the rock. Nature is evil full of invisible powers who hate man. There is no spot where you can set your foot in safety. It is wonderful that your weak rays can escape so much persecution. Terror is a witch. Does she still sit in the darkness of the woods of Wermland? Does she still darken the beauty of smiling places? Does she still dampen the joy of living? Greater power has been. I know it well who have put steel in the cradle and a red hot coal in the bath. I know it who have felt her iron hand around my heart. But no one shall think that I now am going to relate anything terrible or dreadful. It is only an old story of the great bear in Gurlita Cliff which I must tell. And anyone can believe it or not as it always is with hunting stories. The great bear has its home on the beautiful mountain summit which is called Gurlita Cliff and which raises itself precipitiously from the shores of the loven. The roots of a fallen pine between which tufts of moss are hanging make the walls and roof of his dwelling. Branches and twigs protect it. The snow makes it warm. He can lie there and sleep a good quiet sleep from summer to summer. Is he then a poet, a dreamer, this hairy monarch of the forest? Will he sleep away the cold winter's chill nights and colorless days to be waked by the pearling brooks and the song of birds? Will he lie there in dream of blushing cranberry bogs and of arnt hills filled with brown delicious creatures and of the white lambs which grays on the green slopes? Does he want happy one to escape the winter of life? Outside the snowstorm rages wolves and foxes wonder about mad with hunger. Why shall the bear alone sleep? Let him get up and feel how the cold bites, how heavy it is to wade in deep snow. He has bedded himself in so well. He is like the sleeping princess in the fairy tale. And as she was waked by love so will he be waked by the spring. By a ray of sunlight which penetrates through the twigs and warms his nose. By the drops of melting snow which wet his fur will he be waked. Woe to him who untimely disturbs him. He hears suddenly shouts noise and shots. He shakes the sleep out of his joints and pushes aside the branches to see what it is. It is not spring which rattles and roars outside his lair nor the wind which overthrows pine trees and casts up the driving snow. But it is the pensioners, the pensioners from Akeby, old acquaintances of the forest monarch. He remembered well the night when fox and bear and croix sat and dosed in a new-gård peasants barn where they awaited a visit from him. They had just fallen asleep over their brandy-bottle. When he swung himself in through the peatroof. But they awoke when he was trying to lift the cow he had killed out of the stall and fell upon him with gun and knife. They took the cow from him and one of his eyes. But he saved his life. Yes, verily the pensioners and he are old acquaintances. He remembered how they had come on him another time and his queen consort had just laid themselves down for their winter sleep in the old lair here on Gurlita Cliff and had jang once in the hole. He remembered well how they came on them unawares. He got away all right throwing to either side everything that stood in his path. But he must limp for life from a bullet in his thigh and when he came back at night to the royal lair the snow was red with his queen consort's blood and the royal children had been carried away to the plain to grow up there and be mans servants and friends. Yes, now the ground trembles. Now the snow drift which hides his lair shakes. Now he bursts out the great bear. The pensioners old enemy. Look out, fucks old bear killer. Look out now, Berenkreuz. Look out just a bearling, hero of a hundred adventures. Woe to all poets, all dreamers, all heroes of Romans. There stands just a bearling with finger on trigger and the bear comes straight towards him. Why does he not shoot? What is he thinking of? Why does he not send a bullet straight into the broad breast? He stands in just the place to do it. The others are not placed right to shoot. Does he think he is on parade before the forest monarch? Just of course stood and dreamt of the lovely Marianne who is lying at Ekeby dangerously ill from the chill of that night when she slept in the snow drift. He thinks of her who also is a sacrifice to the curse of hatred which overlays the earth and he shudders at himself who has come out to pursue and to kill. And there comes the great bear right towards him blind in one eye from the blow of a pensioner's knife lame in one leg from a bullet from a pensioner's gun fierce and shaggy, alone since they had killed his wife and carried away his children. And just as sees him as he is a poor persecuted beast whom he will not deprive of life all he has left since people have taken from him everything else. Let him kill me, thinks justa, but I will not shoot. And while the bear breaks his way towards him he stands quite still as if on parade and when the forest monarch stands directly in front of him he presents arms and takes a step to one side The bear continues on his way knowing too well that he has no time to waste breaks into the wood plows his way through drifts the height of a man rolls down the steep slopes and escapes while all of them who had stood with cop guns and waited for just a shot shot off their guns after him but it is of no avail the ring is broken and the bear gone fokskålds and berenkroidssvärs but justa only laughs How could they ask that anyone so happy as he should harm one of God's creatures The great bear of Gurlita Cliff got away thus with his life and he is wait from his winter sleep as the peasants will find No bear has greater skill than he to tear apart the roofs of their low celler like cow barns None can better avoid a concealed ambush The people about the upper loven soon were at their wits end about him Message after message was sent down to the pensioners that they should come and kill the bear Day after day night after night during the whole of February the pensioners scoured the upper loven to find the bear but he always escapes them Has he learnt cunning from the fox and swiftness from the wolf if they lie in wait at one place he is ravaging the neighbouring farm yard if they seek him in the wood he is pursuing the peasant who comes driving over the ice he has become the boldest of marauders he creeps into the garret and empties the housewaves honey jar he kills the horse in the peasants sledge but gradually they begin to understand what kind of a bear he is and why just I could not shoot him Terrible to say dreadful to believe this is no ordinary bear no one can hope to kill him if he does not have a silver bullet a bullet of silver and bell metal cast on a Thursday evening at new moon in the church tower without the priest or the sexton or anybody knowing it would certainly kill him but such a one is not so easy to get there is one man at Ikeby who more than all the rest would grieve over all this it is as one can easily guess Anders Fuchs the bear killer he loses both his appetite and his sleep in his anger at not being able to kill the great bear in girlita cliff at last even he understands that the bear can only be killed with a silver bullet the grim major Anders Fuchs was not handsome he had a heavy clumsy body and a broad red face with hanging bags under his cheeks and several double jeans his small black moustache sat stiff as a brush above his thick lips and his black hair stood out rough and thick from his head moreover he was a man of few words and a glutton he was not a person whom women met with sunny smile and open arms and tender glances back again one could not believe that he ever would see a woman whom he could tolerate and everything which concerned love and enthusiasm was foreign to him one Thursday evening when the moon just two fingers wide lingers above the horizon an hour or two after the sun has gone down major Fuchs beteaks himself from Ikeby anyone where he means to go he has flint and steel and a bullet mould in his hunting bag and his gun on his back and goes up towards the church at Bru to see what luck there may be for an honest man the church lies on the eastern shore of the narrow sound between the upper and lower level and major Fuchs must go over a bridge to get there he went his way towards it deep in his thoughts without looking up towards Ruby Hill where the houses cut sharply begins the clear evening sky he only looks on the ground and wonders how he shall get hold of the key of the church without anybody's knowing it when he comes down to the bridge he hears someone screaming so despairingly that he has to look up at that time the little German Faber was organized at Bru he was a slender man small in body and mind and the sexton was Jan Larsson an energetic peasant but poor for the Ruby clergyman had cheated him out of his patchimony 500 riksdollars the sexton wanted to marry the organized sister the little delicate maiden Faber but the organized would not let him have her and therefore the two were not good friends that evening the sexton has met the organized as he crossed the bridge and has fallen upon him he ceases him by the shoulder and holding him at arm's length out over the railing tells him solemnly that he shall drop him into the sound if he does not give him the little maiden the little German will not give in he struggles and screams and reiterates no although far below him he sees the black water rushing between the white banks no no he screams no no and it is uncertain if the sexton in his rage would have let him down into the cold black water if major folks had not just then come over the bridge the sexton is afraid puts Faber down on solid ground and runs away as fast as he can little Faber falls on the major's neck to thank him for his life but the major pushes him away and says that there is nothing to thank him for the major has no love for Germans ever since he had his quarters at Putbus on the Regen during the Pomeranian war he had never so nearly starved to death as in those days then little Faber wants to run up to the bailiff charling and accused the sexton of an attempt at murder but the major lets him know that it is of no use here in the country for it does not count for anything to kill a German little Faber grows calmer and ask the major to come home with him to eat a bit of sausage and to taste his home brewed ale the major follows him for he thinks that the organist must have a key to the church door and so they go up the hill where the brewed church stands with a vickridge, the sexton's cottage and the organist's house round about it you must excuse us says little Faber as he and the major enter the house it is not really in order today we have had a little to do my sister and I we have killed a cock the devil cries the major the little maid Faber has just come in with the ale in great earthen mugs now everyone knows that the major did not look upon women with a tender glance but this little maiden he had to gaze upon with delight as she came in so neat in lace and cap her light hair lay combed so smooth above her forehead the home woven dress was so pretty and so dazzlingly clean her little hands were so busy and eager and her little face so rosy and round that he could not help thinking that if he had seen such a little woman 25 years ago he must have come forward and offered himself she is so pretty and rosy and nimble but her eyes are quite red with weeping it is that which suggests such tender thoughts while the men eat and drink she goes in and out of the room once she comes to her brother, courtises and says how do you wish me to place the cows in the stable put twelve on the left and eleven on the right then they can't go one another have you so many cows Faber burst out the major the fact was that the organist had only two cows but he called one eleven and the other twelve that it might sound fine when he spoke of them and then the major hears that Faber's barn is being altered so that the cows are out all day and at night are put into the wood shed the little maiden comes again to her brother courtises to him and says that the carpenter has asked how high the barn should be made measure by the cows says the organist measure by the cows major Fuchs thinks that is such a good answer however it comes to pass the major ask the organist why his sister's eyes are so red and learns that she weeps because he will not let her marry the penniless sexton in depth and without inheritance as he is major Fuchs grows more and more thoughtful he empties tankard after tankard and needs sausage after sausage without noticing it little Faber is appalled at such an appetite and thirst but the more the major eats and drinks the clearer and more determined his mind grows the more decided becomes his resolution to do something for the little maiden Faber he has kept his eyes fixed on the great key which hangs on a knob by the door and as soon as little Faber who has had to keep up with the major in drinking the home brood ale lays his head on the table and snores major Fuchs assist the key put on his cap and hurrid away a minute later he's grouping his way up the tower stairs lighted by his little horn lantern and comes at last to the bell room where the bells open their wide throats over him he scrapes off a little of the bell metal with a file and is just going to take the bullet mould and melting ladle out of his hunting bag when he finds that he has forgotten what is most important of all he has no silver with him if there shall be any power in the bullet it must be cast there in the tower everything is right it is Thursday evening and a new moon and no one has any idea he's there and now he cannot do anything he sends forth into the silence of the night an oath with such a ring in it that the bells hum then he hears a slight noise down in the church and thinks he hears steps on the stairs yes it is true heavy steps are coming up the stairs major Fuchs who stands there and swears so that the bells vibrate is a little thoughtful at that he wonders who it can be who is coming to help him with a bullet casting the steps come nearer and nearer whoever it is is coming all the way up to the bell room the major creeps far in among the beams and rafters and puts out his lantern he's not exactly afraid but the whole thing would be spoiled if anyone should see him there he has scarcely had time to hide before the newcomer's head appears above the floor the major knows him well it is the miserly brooby minister he who is nearly mad with greed has the habit of hiding his treasures in the strangest places he comes now with a roll of banknotes which he's going to hide in the tower room he does not know that anyone sees him he lifts up a board in the floor and puts in the money and takes himself off again the major is not slow he lifts up the same board oh so much money package after package of banknotes and among them brown leather bags full of silver the major takes just enough silver to make a bullet the rest he leaves when he comes down to the earth again he has the silver bullet in his gun he wonders what luck has in store for him that night it is marvellous on thursday nights as everyone knows he goes up towards the organist's house fancy if the bear knew that father's cows are in a miserable shed no better than under the bear sky what? surely he sees something black and big coming over the field towards the woodshed it must be the bear he puts the gun to his cheek and is just going to shoot but then he changes his mind the little maids red eyes come before him in the darkness he thinks that he will help her and the sexton a little but it is hard not to kill the great bear himself he said afterwards that nothing in the world had ever been so hard but as the little maiden was so dear and sweet it had to be done he goes up to the sexton's house wakes him, drags him out half dressed and half naked and says that he shall shoot the bear which is creeping about outside of father's woodshed if you shoot the bear he would surely give you his sister for then you will be a famous man that is no ordinary bear and the best man in the country would consider it an honor to kill it and he puts into his hand his own gun loaded with a bullet of silver and bell metal cast in a church tower on a thirsty evening at the new moon and he cannot help trembling with envy that another then he shall shoot the great forest monarch the old bear of Gurlita Cliff the sexton aims god help us aims as if he meant to hit the great bear which high up in the sky wonders about the north star and not a bear wandering on the plane and the gun goes off with a bang which can be heard all the way to Gurlita Cliff but however he has aimed the bear falls so it is when one shoots with a silver bullet one shoots the bear through the heart even if one aims at the dipper people come rushing out from all the neighboring farm yards and wonder what is going on for never had a shot sounded so loud nor wake so many sleeping echoes as this one and the sexton wins much praise for the bear had been a real pest little farber comes out too but now is Major Fuchs sadly disappointed there stands the sexton covered with glory besides having saved farbers cows but the little organist is neither touched not grateful he does not open his arms to him and greet him as brother in law and hero the major stands and frowns and stamps his foot in rage over such smallness he wants to explain to the Kovettus narrow minded little fellow what it did it is but he begins to stammer so that he cannot get out a word and he gets angry and more angry at the thought that he has given up the glory of killing the great bear in vain oh it is quite impossible for him to comprehend that he who had done such a deed should not be worthy to win the proudest of brides the sexton and some of the young men are going to skin the bear they go to the greenstone and sharpen the knives others go in and go to bed Major Fuchs stands alone by the dead bear then he goes to the church once more puts the key again in the lock climbs up the narrow stairs and the twisted ladder wakes the sleeping pigeons and once more comes up to the tower room afterwards when the bear is skinned under the major's inspection they find between his jaws a package of notes of 500 dricks dollars it is impossible to say how it came there but of course it was a marvellous bear and as the sexton had killed him the money is his that is very plain when it is made known little farber to understands what a glorious deed the sexton has done and he declares that he would be proud to be his brother in law on Friday evening Major Anders Fuchs returns to Ekeby after having been at a feast in honour of the lucky shot at the sextons had an engagement dinner at the organists he follows the road with a heavy heart he feels no joy that his enemies dead and no pleasure in the magnificent bear skin which the sexton has given him many perhaps will believe that he is grieving that the sweet little maiden shall be another's oh no that causes him no sorrow but what goes to his very heart is that the old one eyed forest king is dead and it was not he who shot the silver bullet at him so he comes into the pensioners wing where the pensioners are sitting round the fire and without a word throws the bear skin down among them let no one think that he told about that expedition it was not until long long after that anyone could get out of him the truth of it nor did he betray the brooby clergyman's hiding place who perhaps never noticed the theft the pensioners examine the skin it is a fine skin says Pérent Royce I would like to know why this fellow has come out of his winter sleep or perhaps you shot him in his hole he was shot at bro yes as big as the girly the bear he never was says Yasta but he has been a fine beast if he had had one eye says Kevin Heeler I would have thought that you had killed the old one himself he is so big but this one has no wound or inflammation about his eyes so it cannot be the same Fux swears over his stupidity but then his face lights up so that he is really handsome the great bear has not been killed by another man's bullet Lord God how good thou art he says and folds his hands end of section 10 of the story of Yasta Barling redd by Lars Rolander