Melchior Sinclair roused himself from his thoughts.
“Well,” he cried, “what is the matter?”
And the auction was in full swing once more.
Gösta still sat in the kitchen, and Madame Gustava came weeping out to him.
“It’s no use,” she said. “I thought he would stop when he heard that Marianne had been ill; but he is letting them go on. He would like to, but now he is ashamed.”
Gösta shrugged his shoulders and bade her farewell.
In the hall he met Sintram.
“This is a funny show,” exclaimed Sintram, and rubbed his hands. “You are a master, Gösta. Lord, what you have brought to pass!”
“It will be funnier in a little while,” whispered Gösta. “The Broby clergyman is here with a sledge full of money. They say that he wants to buy the whole of Björne and pay in cash. Then I would like to see Melchior Sinclair, Sintram.”
Sintram drew his head down between his shoulders and laughed internally a long time. And then he made his way into the auction-room and up to Melchior Sinclair.