The Story of Gösta Berling, Selma Lagerlöf [best way to read books txt] 📗

to her children. For then her son would have lost respect for him, and her daughter would not have endured him, for she was a saint.

“So he came here to Borg. He always sat just inside the door, on the very edge of his chair, never said a word at the table, and fled out into the park when any visitors came.

“But there in the lonely walks he used to meet young Ebba Dohna. She was not one who loved the noisy feasts which resounded in the halls at Borg after the countess became a widow. She was so gentle, so shy. She was still, although she was seventeen, nothing but a tender child; but she was very lovely, with her brown eyes, and the faint, delicate color in her cheeks. Her thin, slender body bent forward. Her little hand would creep into yours with a shy pressure. Her little mouth was the most silent of mouths and the most serious. Ah, her voice, her sweet little voice, which pronounced the words so slowly and so well, but never rang with the freshness and warmth of youth⁠—its feeble tones were like a weary musician’s last chord.

“She was not as others. Her foot trod so lightly, so softly, as if she were a frightened fugitive. She kept her eyelids lowered in order not to be disturbed in her contemplation of the visions of her soul. It had turned from the earth when she was but a child.

“When she was little her grandmother used to tell her stories; and one evening they both sat by the fire; but the stories had come to an end. But still the little girl’s hand lay on the old woman’s dress, and she gently stroked the silk⁠—that funny stuff which sounded like a little bird. And this stroking was her prayer, for she was one of those children who never beg in words.

“Then the old lady began to tell her of a little child in the land of Judah; of a little child who was born to become a great King. The angels had filled the earth with songs of praise when he was born. The kings of the East came, guided by the star of heaven, and gave him gold and incense; and old men and women foretold his glory. This child grew up to greater beauty and wisdom than all other children. Already, when he was twelve years old, his wisdom was greater than that of the chief-priests and the scribes.

“Then the old woman told her of the most beautiful thing the earth has ever seen: of that child’s life while he remained among men⁠—those wicked men who would not acknowledge him their King.

“She told her how the child became a man, but that the glory surrounded him still.

“Everything on the earth served him and loved him, except mankind. The fishes let themselves be caught in his net, bread filled his baskets, water changed itself to wine when he wished it.

“But the people gave the great King no golden crown, no shining throne. He had no bowing courtiers about him. They let him go among them like a beggar.

“Still, he was so good to them, the great King! He cured their sicknesses, gave back to the blind their sight, and waked the dead.

“But,” said the grandmother, “the people would not have the great King for their lord.

“ ‘They sent their soldiers against him, and took him prisoner; they dressed him, by way of mockery, in crown and sceptre, and in a silken cloak, and made him go out to the place of execution, bearing a heavy cross. Oh, my child, the good King loved the high mountains. At night he used to climb them to talk with those who dwelt in heaven, and he liked by day to sit on the mountainside and talk to the listening people. But now they led him up on a mountain to crucify him. They drove nails through his hands and feet, and hung the good King on a cross, as if he had been a robber or a malefactor.

“ ‘And the people mocked at him. Only his mother and his friends wept, that he should die before he had been a King.

“ ‘Oh, how the dead things mourned his death!

“ ‘The sun lost its light, and the mountains trembled; the curtain in the temple was rent asunder, and the graves opened, that the dead might rise up and show their grief.’

“The little one lay with her head on her grandmother’s knee, and sobbed as if her heart would break.

“ ‘Do not weep, little one; the good King rose from his grave and went up to his Father in heaven.’

“ ‘Grandmother,’ sobbed the poor little thing, ‘did he ever get any kingdom?’

“ ‘He sits on God’s right hand in heaven.’

“But that did not comfort her. She wept helplessly and unrestrainedly, as only a child can weep.

“ ‘Why were they so cruel to him? Why were they allowed to be so cruel to him?’

“Her grandmother was almost frightened at her overwhelming sorrow.

“ ‘Say, grandmother, say that you have not told it right! Say that it did not end so! Say that they were not so cruel to the good King! Say that he got a kingdom on earth!’

“She threw her arms around the old woman and beseeched her with streaming tears.

“ ‘Child, child,’ said her grandmother, to console her. ‘There are some who believe that he will come again. Then he will put the earth under his power and direct it. The beautiful earth will be a glorious kingdom. It shall last a thousand years. Then the fierce animals will be gentle; little children will play by the viper’s nest, and bears and cows will eat together. No one shall injure or destroy the other; the lance shall be bent into scythes, and the sword forged into ploughs. And everything shall be play and happiness, for the good will possess the earth.’

“Then the little one’s face brightened behind her tears.

“ ‘Will the good King then get a throne, grandmother?’

“ ‘A throne