Short Fiction by Selma Lagerlöf (android based ebook reader txt) đ
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Selma Lagerlöf was a Swedish author, who, starting in 1891 with The Story of Gösta Berling, wrote a series of novels and short stories that soon garnered both national and international praise. This led to her winning the 1909 Nobel Prize for Literature âin appreciation of the lofty idealism, vivid imagination, and spiritual perception that characterize her writings,â the first woman to do so. She happily wrote for both adults and children, but the same feeling of romantic infatuation with the spiritual mysteries of life runs through all of her work, often anchored to her childhood home of VĂ€rmland in middle Sweden.
The collection brings together the available public domain translations into English, in chronological order of their original publication. The subjects are many, and include Swedish folk-stories, Biblical legends, and tales of robbers, kings and queens, fishermen, and saints. They were translated by Pauline Bancroft Flach, Jessie Brochner, and Velma Swanston Howard.
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- Author: Selma Lagerlöf
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Raniero understood now that the fool spoke of what had taken place during the day. Both he and the other knights began to listen with greater interest than in the beginning.
âWhen Saint Peter had said this,â continued the fool, as he cast a furtive glance at the knights, âhe leaned over the pinnacle of the tower and pointed toward the earth. He showed our Lord a city which lay upon a great solitary rock that shot up from a mountain valley. âDo you see those mounds of corpses?â he said. âAnd do you see the naked and wretched prisoners who moan in the night chill? And do you see all the smoking ruins of the conflagration?â It appeared as if our Lord did not wish to answer him, but Saint Peter went on with his lamentations. He said that he had certainly been vexed with that city many times, but he had not wished it so ill as that it should come to look like this. Then, at last, our Lord answered, and tried an objection: âStill, you can not deny that the Christian knights have risked their lives with the utmost fearlessness,â said He.â
Then the fool was interrupted by bravos, but he made haste to continue.
âOh, donât interrupt me!â he said. âNow I donât remember where I left offâ âah! to be sure, I was just going to say that Saint Peter wiped away a tear or two which sprang to his eyes and prevented him from seeing. âI never would have thought they could be such beasts,â said he. âThey have murdered and plundered the whole day. Why you went to all the trouble of letting yourself be crucified in order to gain such devotees, I canât in the least comprehend.âââ
The knights took up the fun good-naturedly. They began to laugh loud and merrily. âWhat, fool! Is Saint Peter so wroth with us?â shrieked one of them.
âBe silent now, and let us hear if our Lord spoke in our defense!â interposed another.
âNo, our Lord was silent. He knew of old that when Saint Peter had once got a-going, it wasnât worth while to argue with him. He went on in his way, and said that our Lord neednât trouble to tell him that finally they remembered to which city they had come, and went to church barefooted and in penitentsâ garb. That spirit had, of course, not lasted long enough to be worth mentioning. And thereupon he leaned once more over the tower and pointed downward toward Jerusalem. He pointed out the Christiansâ camp outside the city. âDo you see how your knights celebrate their victories?â he asked. And our Lord saw that there was revelry everywhere in the camp. Knights and soldiers sat and looked upon Syrian dancers. Filled goblets went the rounds while they threw dice for the spoils of war andâ ââ
âThey listened to fools who told vile stories,â interpolated Raniero. âWas not this also a great sin?â
The fool laughed and shook his head at Raniero, as much as to say, âWait! I will pay you back.â
âNo, donât interrupt me!â he begged once again. âA poor fool forgets so easily what he would say. Ah! it was this: Saint Peter asked our Lord if He thought these people were much of a credit to Him. To this, of course, our Lord had to reply that He didnât think they were.
âââThey were robbers and murderers before they left home, and robbers and murderers they are even today. This undertaking you could just as well have left undone. No good will come of it,â said Saint Peter.â
âCome, come, fool!â said Raniero in a threatening tone. But the fool seemed to consider it an honor to test how far he could go without someone jumping up and throwing him out, and he continued fearlessly.
âOur Lord only bowed His head, like one who acknowledges that he is being justly rebuked. But almost at the same instant He leaned forward eagerly and peered down with closer scrutiny than before. Saint Peter also glanced down. âWhat are you looking for?â he wondered.â
The fool delivered this speech with much animated facial play. All the knights saw our Lord and Saint Peter before their eyes, and they wondered what it was our Lord had caught sight of.
âOur Lord answered that it was nothing in particular,â said the fool. âSaint Peter gazed in the direction of our Lordâs glance, but he could discover nothing except that our Lord sat and looked down into a big tent, outside of which a couple of Saracen heads were set up on long lances, and where a lot of fine rugs, golden vessels, and costly weapons, captured in the Holy City, were piled up. In that tent they carried on as they did everywhere else in the camp. A company of knights sat and emptied their goblets. The only difference might be that here there were more drinking and roystering than elsewhere. Saint Peter could not comprehend why our Lord was so pleased when He looked down there, that His eyes fairly sparkled with delight. So many hard and cruel faces he had rarely before seen gathered around a drinking table. And he who was host at the board and sat at the head of the table was the most dreadful of all. He was a man of thirty-five, frightfully big and coarse, with a blowsy countenance covered with scars and scratches, calloused hands, and a loud, bellowing voice.â
Here the fool
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