When the major reached the yard, he found there no living thing but Marianne and a long line of horses with sledges and carriages,—a long dismal line, where the horses were not worse than the vehicles, nor the vehicles worse than their owners. Ill-used in the struggle of life were they all. Marianne went forward and freed them. She noticed how they bit their lips and looked away. They were ashamed as never before. A great disgrace had befallen them. “I was not better off when I lay on my knees on the steps at Björne a couple of hours ago,” said Marianne. And so, dear reader, what happened afterwards that night—how the old vehicles were put into the carriage-house, the horses in the stable, and the pensioners in their house—I shall not try to relate. The dawn began to appear over the eastern hills, and the day came clear and calm. How much quieter the bright, sunny days are than the dark nights, under whose protecting wings beasts of prey hunt and owls hoot! I will only say that when the pensioners had gone in again and had found a few drops in the last punch-bowl to fill their glasses, a sudden ecstasy came over them. “A toast for the major’s wife!” they cried. Ah, she is a matchless woman! What better could they wish for than to serve her, to worship her? Was it not sad that the devil had got her in his power, and that all her endeavors were to send poor gentlemen’s souls to hell? CHAPTER VIII THE GREAT BEAR IN GURLITTA CLIFF In the darkness of the forests dwell unholy creatures, whose jaws are armed with horrible, glittering teeth or sharp beaks, whose feet have pointed claws, which long to sink themselves in a blood-filled throat, and whose eyes shine with murderous desires. There the wolves live, who come out at night and hunt the peasant’s sledge until the wife must take her little child, which sits upon her knee, and throw it to them, to save her own and her husband’s life. There the lynx lives, which the people call “göpa,” for in the woods at least it is dangerous to call it by its right name. He who speaks of it during the day had best see that the doors and windows of the sheep-house are well closed towards night, for otherwise it will come. It climbs right up the walls, for its claws are strong as steel nails, glides in through the smallest hole, and throws itself on the sheep. And “göpa” hangs on their throats, and drinks their blood, and kills and tears, till every sheep is dead. He does not cease his wild death-dance among the terrified animals as long as any of them show a sign of life. And in the morning the peasant finds all the sheep lying dead with torn throats, for “göpa” leaves nothing living where he ravages. There the great owl lives, which hoots at dusk. If one mimics him, he comes whizzing down with outspread wings and strikes out one’s eyes, for he is no real bird, but an evil spirit.