Imatges de pàgina
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with which she disposes of them. There is an ironlike order which enters into all her concerns. But on her departure from earthly things this is worthy of notice. Ma chère mère showed herself here just as she had been during the whole course of her life, strictly equitable and fond of order, benevolent without any display, firm and grateful in friendship.

I cannot, however, bring my mind to think that she must die. Björn seems to have greater fear for her intellect. He speculates on preparing a sleeping draught for her; but how any one is to bring her to take it is another matter.

Ma chère mère will not have a word said about her likelihood of living; she has, as she says, now made up her mind, and given herself up to death in earnest, and only thinks of preparing herself for it.

The 9th.

A strange scene! What singular ideas come into

men's heads to be sure.

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Ma chère mère has ordered a joiner to this morning,--no one could conceive why. When he came, she gave orders for him to come into her room and to take her measure for-a coffin!

After this she gave very particular instructions respecting the decoration of the coffin, and made me write down what she desired to have written upon the plate. (N.B. The door to Bruno's room was closed during this scene.)

"Well, Mr. Svensson," said she, when all this was settled, "what is to be the cost of my coffin?"

Confounded and astonished at this, the joiner reflected a moment, and at length said, Fifty dollars

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banco, your ladyship!"

"Are you crazy, Mr. Svensson?" said ma chère mère violently, " Fifty dollars banco? Five-and-twenty ris dollars more than you took for the coffin of my late husband. Consider what you say. I can show you the account of the General's coffin, master!"

"Oak timber, your ladyship, has risen very considerably in price since."

"And who the deuce tells you to make it of oak? For my part yon may take birch, or elm, or pine, or whatever kind of wood you like. The miserable body turns to dust still, methinks, whether it lies in a coffin of oak or pine. Rich and poor are alike in death. I am, it is true, of ancient noble descent, and such was my husband also, the late General Mansfelt. But what then, Mr. Svensson?

When Adam delved, and Eve span,
Where was then the gentleman?

And where is he, when the body lies in the grave?— Take pine, or birch-wood to my coffin, dear Svensson, and let me have it for fifty rix-dollars."

"Sixty rix-dollars, your ladyship."

Fifty rix-dollars, Mr. Svensson! More I shall not give, and you may make it accordingly. Fifty rix-dollars current, I say, not a shilling more. But I invite you to the feast, which my people shall have at my funeral. Recollect, Franciska, that Mr. Svensson is to be present on the occasion, or—— I shall think of it myself, when I make the arrangements for the funeral. Adieu, my dear sir, our agreement stands good. Many thanks! Adieu!"

Much as I have seen of ma chère mère's peculiarities, I nevertheless confess that this scene very much astonished me. I saw however clearly, that no desire for, but solely an invincible love of arrangements, led her to order and bargain for her own coffin. Ma chère mère seemed to do it quite as a matter of business, and said to me when the joiner was gone, "These mechanics are rapacious beasts. One must keep a strict balance of accounts with them. But their fox shall not bite my goose."

After this ma chère mère made arrangements for her funeral ceremony. She dictated, and I wrote down, how it was to be conducted; how many pounds of confectionary were to be bought, etc. She ordered a messenger to be dispatched to the minister of her church, with the request that he would come to Ramm the following day.

"I will," said she, "die as becometh a Christian!" When all this was settled she manifested great satisfaction, and begged me to give her something to drink. "I am heartily tired of this everlasting soup," said she, "I should like to have something different, but know not what."

A happy thought rushed into my mind, and I hastened to say, "I have a recipe for making a kind of lemonade, a sort of toast and water-in short, a very refreshing and salutary drink. I should feel great pleasure in preparing it for ma chère mère."

"Do so, Franciska! You are never at a loss. You are sure to contrive something; and that is a useful taBetter comfortless than helpless.''

lent.

I hastened immediately to Björn, and communicated

my proposal to him. He was very well satisfied with my "inventive faculty," and immediately began to brew his narcotic-potion and my toast-water, for these were one and the same.

Bruno in the meantime is in an uneasy and low state of mind, and not free from fever. He really loves his mother most dearly, and is most anxious for her not to die. Björn tries to compose him with kind words and hopes. Hagar is a great deal about him, but this seems to pain him. He treats her with harshness, but she endures every thing with slavish submission. That woman must in some way be sunk deep, indeed, who submits to such treatment, and like the dog, fawns on the foot which spurns it. How unlike this slavish adoration, is that free submission with which an honoured and cherished woman devotes herself to the object of her pure attachment. Poor Hagar!

Ma chère mère cannot bear Hagar, and the latter shuns her sharp penetrating look. "She must be his Dulcinea!" said ma chère mère yesterday to me. "I shall speak to Bruno about it. I don't like any thing of this kind!" The sleeping draught is now ready, and I am to present it. God help me! I fancy as if I were playing a deceitful part towards ma chère mère, and this is painful to me.

Later.

It is done-it succeeded, but all was nearly lost! On my receiving the cup with the anodyne draught from Björn's hand, I said with some fear:

"Björn, are you sure-do you think that this will not lull her into the sleep of death?"

"Do you think I am a quack, Franciska?"

"Nothing of the kind; you are Esculapius himself, but..... but... Ah, Björn! I find it a hard task to deceive her."

.....

"Would you rather that she should lose her senses or be struck with apoplexy? My little Franciska, it won't do to tarry any longer. The quicker you do it the better it will be done. By God's help this draught will save her."

I went in to ma chère mère and presented the cup to her, whilst with as much confidence as possible I said: "Here, ma chère mère, is my refreshing drink."

"Well, that is excellent," said she, raised herself, tasted the draught, started, and made wry faces. "What sort of a cursed potion is this which you have brewed together, Franciska ?" exclaimed she, "it tastes quite poisonous !" she fixed at the same time one of her sharpest looks on me.

Had I held a cup of poison in my innocent hand, she could not have trembled more, nor I looked more like a condemned criminal. "You unlucky Björn!" thought I, almost ready to cry, 66 now I must empty the cup myself to prove my innocence, if I should even have to sleep to the day of judgment after it."

"God help you!" proceeded ma chère mère with the same look, "if you are confederated with your husband to deceive me."

"And if it were so," said I, whilst I threw the one arm which was at liberty round her neck and kissed her, and bedewed her cheeks with my tears; "if even it were so, would you not, mother, wish to be kind towards your children, and for their sakes take the draught, and believe them, that though it may taste somewhat amiss it will still only do good?"

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