And he thought of the honor and glory of Ekeby which had had to be sacrificed to get her out of the world,—the magnificent halls, where so much happiness had dwelt, the tables which had groaned under dainty dishes, the precious old furniture, silver and china, which could never be replaced— And then he sprang up with a cry. His fire-wheel, his sun, the model on which everything depended, had he not put it under the stairs to cause the fire? Kevenhüller looked down on himself, paralyzed with dismay. “Am I going mad?” he said. “How could I do such a thing?” At the same moment the door of the workshop opened and the wood-nymph walked in. She stood on the threshold, smiling and fair. Her green dress had neither hole nor stain, no smoke darkened her yellow hair. She was just as he had seen her in the market-place at Karlstad in his young days; her tail hung between her feet, and she had all the wildness and fragrance of the wood about her. “Ekeby is burning,” she said, and laughed. Kevenhüller had the sledge-hammer lifted and meant to throw it at her head, but then he saw that she had his fire-wheel in her hand. “See what I have saved for you,” she said. Kevenhüller threw himself on his knees before her. “You have broken my carriage, you have rent my wings, and you have ruined my life. Have grace, have pity on me!” She climbed up on the bench and sat there, just as young and mischievous as when he saw her first. “I see that you know who I am,” she said. “I know you, I have always known you,” said the unfortunate man; “you are genius. But set me free! Take back your gift! Let me be an ordinary person! Why do you persecute me? Why do you destroy me?” “Madman,” said the wood-nymph, “I have never wished you any harm. I gave you a great reward; but I can also take it from you if you wish. But consider well. You will repent it.” “No, no!” he cried; “take from me the power of working wonders!” “First, you must destroy this,” she said, and threw the fire-wheel on the ground in front of him. He did not hesitate. He swung the sledge-hammer over the shining sun; sparks flew about the room, splinters and flames danced about him, and then his last wonder lay in fragments. “Yes, so I take my gift from you,” said the wood-nymph. As she stood in the door and the glare from the fire streamed over her, he looked at her for the last time. More beautiful than ever before, she seemed to him, and no longer malicious, only stern and proud. “Madman,” she said, “did I ever forbid you to let others copy your works? I only wished to protect the man of genius from a mechanic’s labor.” Whereupon she went. Kevenhüller was insane for a couple of days. Then he was as usual again. But in his madness he had burned down Ekeby. No one was hurt. Still, it was a great sorrow to the pensioners that the hospitable home, where they had enjoyed so many good things, should suffer such injury in their time. CHAPTER XXI BROBY FAIR