“Shame, woman! Offer Christian Bergh crows! If I did right I would take you and your seven hell’s—” “Thousand devils, Christian Bergh! don’t swear. Nobody but I swears here.” “Do you think I am afraid of you, hag? Don’t you think I know how you got your seven estates?” “Silence, captain!” “When Altringer died he gave them to your husband because you had been his mistress.” “Will you be silent?” “Because you had been such a faithful wife, Margareta Samzelius. And the major took the seven estates and let you manage them and pretended not to know. And the devil arranged it all; but now comes the end for you.” The major’s wife sits down; she is pale and trembling. She assents in a strange, low voice. “Yes, now it is the end for me, and it is your doing, Christian Bergh.” At her voice Captain Christian trembles, his face works, and his eyes are filled with tears of anguish. “I am drunk,” he cries. “I don’t know what I am saying; I haven’t said anything. Dog and slave, dog and slave, and nothing more have I been for her for forty years. She is Margareta Celsing, whom I have served my whole life. I say nothing against her. What should I have to say against the beautiful Margareta Celsing! I am the dog which guards her door, the slave who bears her burdens. She may strike me, she may kick me! You see how I hold my tongue and bear it. I have loved her for forty years. How could I say anything against her?” And a wonderful sight it is to see how he kneels and begs for forgiveness. And as she is sitting on the other side of the table, he goes on his knees round the table till he comes to her; then he bends down and kisses the hem of her dress, and the floor is wet with his tears. But not far from the major’s wife sits a small, strong man. He has shaggy hair, small, squinting eyes, and a protruding under-jaw. He looks like a bear. He is a man of few words, who likes to go his own quiet way and let the world take care of itself. He is Major Samzelius. He rises when he hears Captain Christian’s accusing words, and the major’s wife rises, and all the fifty guests. The women are weeping in terror of what is coming, the men stand dejected, and at the feet of the major’s wife lies Captain Christian, kissing the hem of her dress, wetting the floor with his tears. The major slowly clenches his broad, hairy hands, and lifts his arm. But the woman speaks first. Her voice sounds hollow and unfamiliar. “You stole me,” she cried. “You came like a thief and took me. They forced me, in my home, by blows, by hunger, and hard words to be your wife. I have treated you as you deserved.” The major’s broad fist is clenched. His wife gives way a couple of steps. Then she speaks again.