Was it not he who, after his one and only memorable winter in Stockholm, duplicated his triumphs at Karlstad and wherever else he chanced to be? Was it not he who, with Sergeant Sellblad as companion and Drummer Tyberg as valet, went down to Göteborg, where he passed himself off as a Finnish baron, and for a whole fortnight spoke with a Finnish accent, while running a gaming-house for the benefit of wealthy merchants’ gay young sons? Was not he the only under-officer that had ever got to dance with the haughty Countess of Apertin? And was it not he who became so enamoured of the beautiful Mamselle Widerström, when she sang in _La Preciosa_ at the Karlstad theatre, that he abducted her and would have got over into Norway with her, had not her manager happily overtaken them at Arvika? And, finally, was it not he who came to Captain Wästfelt at Angersby as Adjutant something or other, and put life into the young folk in Fryksdalen? Were ever such grand fair balls, such merry Christmas feasts, such jolly crayfish parties, and such delightful wanderings to picturesque places of interest! The romantic wife of the Captain who lay on a couch all day reading novels, did she not find in him the embodiment of her heroes of romance! And her young daughters, were not their first love dreams of him? On the neighbouring place, Mårbacka, where there was a houseful of pretty daughters--what happened there? Could they resist a _beau cavalier_ who manipulated the curling-tongs as skilfully as he did the guitar, and had the nimbus of Amor shining above his fair, curled hair? * * * * * Colour-Sergeant von Wachenfeldt comes driving down the rocky road, while the lone silver bell tinkles feebly and almost mournfully. In the days of his power and glory the sixty silver bells which hung from the harness and trappings jingled right merrily. They had, so to speak, rung in his triumphs, had heralded the coming of a conqueror. But now when there is only one solitary bell, it seems merely to announce the approach of a man whose day of fortune and happiness is over. The Colour-Sergeant rides behind his old horse, Kalle, which is so noticeably small that everyone he meets in the road turns to look after it. But, on the other hand, no one turns to look at the horse’s owner. Driving past Gunnarsby Inn, he sees two young girls standing at the well. He salutes them with a flourish of his whip, and from force of habit gives them one of his most seductive smiles, but receives in return an indifferent glance. The girls do not drop the well bucket in wonder, or stand rapt with cheeks aglow, to gaze after him.