Once more they had breathing-space for a time, while the brutes tore their booty to pieces, and then again they felt the dragging as the wolves seized the green plaid, and heard their panting breath. They knew that they should not pass any human dwelling before Berga, but worse than death it seemed to Gösta to see those he had deceived. But he knew that the horse would tire, and what should become of them then? They saw the house at Berga at the edge of the forest. Candles burned in the windows. Gösta knew too well for whose sake. But now the wolves drew back, fearing the neighborhood of man, and Gösta drove past Berga. He came no further than to the place where the road once again buried itself in the wood; there he saw a dark group before him,—the wolves were waiting for him. “Let us turn back to the vicarage and say that we took a little pleasure trip in the starlight. We can’t go on.” They turned, but in the next moment the sledge was surrounded by wolves. Gray forms brushed by them, their white teeth glittered in gaping mouths, and their glowing eyes shone. They howled with hunger and thirst for blood. The glittering teeth were ready to seize the soft human flesh. The wolves leaped up on Don Juan, and hung on the saddle-cloth. Anna sat and wondered if they would eat them entirely up, or if there would be something left, so that people the next morning would find their mangled limbs on the trampled, bloody snow. “It’s a question of our lives,” she said, and leaned down and seized Tancred by the nape of the neck. “Don’t,—that will not help! It is not for the dog’s sake the wolves are out to-night.” Thereupon Gösta drove into the yard at Berga, but the wolves hunted him up to the very steps. He had to beat them off with the whip. “Anna,” he said, as they drew up, “God would not have it. Keep a good countenance; if you are the woman I take you for, keep a good countenance!” They had heard the sleigh-bells in the house, and came out. “He has her!” they cried, “he has her! Long live Gösta Berling!” and the new-comers were embraced by one after another. Few questions were asked. The night was far advanced, the travellers were agitated by their terrible drive and needed rest. It was enough that Anna had come. All was well. Only “Corinne” and the green plaid, Mamselle Ulrika’s prized gift, were destroyed. * * * * * The whole house slept. But Gösta rose, dressed himself, and stole out. Unnoticed he led Don Juan out of the stable, harnessed him to the sledge, and meant to set out. But Anna Stjärnhök came out from the house. “I heard you go out,” she said. “So I got up, too. I am ready to go with you.” He went up to her and took her hand.