Gösta Berling was observant now, when it was too late. He did not know what to do. He wished her so well. But he did not dare to thrust himself between man and wife. “Where is Gösta Berling?” asked the count. “Here,” said Gösta. And he made a pitiable attempt to make a jest of the matter. “You were making a speech, I think, count, and I fell asleep. What do you say to letting us go home and letting you all go to bed?” “Gösta Berling, since my countess has refused to dance with you, I command her to kiss your hand and to ask you for forgiveness.” “My dear Count Henrik,” says Gösta, smiling, “it is not a fit hand for a young woman to kiss. Yesterday it was red with blood from killing an elk, to-day black with soot from a fight with a charcoal-burner. You have given a noble and high-minded sentence. That is satisfaction enough. Come, Beerencreutz!” The count placed himself in his way. “Do not go,” he said. “My wife must obey me. I wish that my countess shall know whither it leads to be self-willed.” Gösta stood helpless. The countess was quite white; but she did not move. “Go,” said the count. “Henrik, I cannot.” “You can,” said the count, harshly. “You can. But I know what you want. You will force me to fight with this man, because your whim is not to like him. Well, if you will not make him amends, I shall do so. You women love to have a man killed for your sake. You have done wrong, but will not atone for it. Therefore I must do it. I shall fight the duel, countess. In a few hours I shall be a bloody corpse.” She gave him a long look. And she saw him as he was,—stupid, cowardly, puffed up with pride and vanity, the most pitiful of men. “Be calm,” she said. And she became as cold as ice. “I will do it.” But now Gösta Berling became quite beside himself. “You shall not, countess! No, you shall not! You are only a child, a poor, innocent child, and you would kiss my hand. You have such a white, beautiful soul. I will never again come near you. Oh, never again! I bring death and destruction to everything good and blameless. You shall not touch me. I shudder for you like fire for water. You shall not!” He put his hands behind his back. “It is all the same to me, Herr Berling. Nothing makes any difference to me any more. I ask you for forgiveness. I ask you to let me kiss your hand!” Gösta kept his hands behind his back. He approached the door. “If you do not accept the amends my wife offers, I must fight with you, Gösta Berling, and moreover must impose upon her another, severer, punishment.” The countess shrugged her shoulders. “He is mad from cowardice,” she whispered. “Let me do it! It does not matter if I am humbled. It is after all what you wanted the whole time.” “Did I want that? Do you think I wanted that? Well, if I have no hands to kiss, you must see that I did not want it,” he cried.