Stellan was amazed that Manne should get excited so easily. He felt a strange cold satisfaction and continued pitilessly:
“My dear Manne, you have not much respect for your prospective father-in-law.”
Manne started as if he had been struck. He was unguarded and had no repartee ready. He put his hand on Stellan’s arm and mumbled almost tenderly:
“Stellan ... don’t let us talk about that any more....”
For a moment they stood silent, looking out into the blue shimmering night which was full of small fluttering creatures. Below them the apple trees in the orchard were bowed down with fruit. Further away a thin veil of mist lay over a meadow in which were some grazing cows whose white spots shone like newly washed clothes in the moonlight. And beyond the bright edging of yellow reeds the bay of Lake Mälar lay dreaming with a narrow silver streak upon it that leapt into life when a breeze passed. Still further there were reflections of the moon constantly appearing and disappearing where the water seemed to repose as calm as a mirror but was all the same stirred by a faint ground swell.
The whole atmosphere seemed full of the delicious coolness of rich ripe fruits, and full of the peace and calm of possession and ownership.
“Fancy that there are people who lead quiet and happy lives,” mumbled Manne.
Stellan imitated his tone:
“Yes, why are we not innocent vegetarians, feeding on carrots and staring at the moon.... Nonsense! Manne! Nonsense! There are people who lead dull lives, and people who don’t. Let us as long as possible belong to the latter! Now is the hour of lovers and gamblers.”
He suddenly made a gesture embracing the castles and the acres of Trefvinge.