“Is not the pace good? Is not the course kingly? Beyond Löfven lies Lake Väner. Beyond Väner lies the sea, everywhere endless stretches of clear blue-black ice, and beyond all a glowing world. Rolling thunders in the freezing ice, shrill cries behind us, shooting stars above us, and jingling bells before us! Forward! Always forward! Have you a mind to try the journey, young, beautiful lady?”
He had let her go. She pushes him roughly away. The next instant finds him on his knees at her feet.
“I am a wretch, a wretch. You ought not to have angered me, countess. You stood there so proud and fair, and never thought that a pensioner’s hand could reach you. Heaven and earth love you. You ought not to add to the burden of those whom heaven and earth scorn.”
He draws her hands to him and lifts them to his face.
“If you only knew,” he says, “what it means to be an outcast. One does not stop to think what one does. No, one does not.”
At the same moment he notices that she has nothing on her hands. He draws a pair of great fur gloves from his pocket and puts them on her.
And he has become all at once quite quiet. He places himself in the sledge, as far from the young countess as possible.
“You need not be afraid,” he says. “Do you not see where we are driving? You must understand that we do not dare to do you any harm.”
She, who has been almost out of her mind with fright, sees that they have driven across the lake and that Don Juan is struggling up the steep hill to Borg.
They stop the horse before the steps of the castle, and let the young countess get out of the sledge at the door of her own home.