"Who dares to speak to me of Meri's child?" he said in a low tone. "I know none other than my son Gösta, born of my second wife during the journey to Stockholm; and God be merciful unto you if ever ... Let us forget that matter. Why I took you? Why I sent your boy into the field? H'm! it does not concern anyone."
"Well, keep it to yourself; I know too much already."
"Tell me, if you can, Larsson, what constituents are required for an honest Christian Government?"
Larsson looked at him with surprise.
"I will tell you. The sword has two parts, the blade and the handle. Two forces are likewise necessary for the plough: one that draws and one that drives. And two forces united form a Christian Government, namely, the people and the king. But that which comes between brings discord and ruin; it arrogates to itself the king's power and the people's property. It is a monster."
"I know you hate the nobles."
"And therefore," Bertila laid an emphasis on his words, and uttered them with an almost ironical smile, which seemed to turn his meaning into a jest, "you see, my son must either be peasant or king; nothing more or less!"
Larsson looked at him with dismay. He had not imagined the depth of ambition which had hitherto glowed concealed in the old peasant's heart. He thought it the extreme of crazy presumption.
"You can certainly never hope," he timidly said, "that Meri's son, with his birth——"
The old man's eyes flashed, but the words were inaudible that came from his lips, as if he tried to struggle against an inner impulse, to express for the first and perhaps for the last time, the bold idea which had already for many years grown in his tempestuous soul.