Nils Lykke.
You judge me unjustly, if you judge from what rumour has told of me. Even if there be truth in all you have heard,—you know not the causes behind it.—As a boy of seventeen I began my course of pleasure. I have lived full fifteen years since then. Light women granted me all that I would—even before the wish had shaped itself into a prayer; and what I offered them they seized with eager hands. You are the first woman that has flung back a gift of mine with scorn at my feet.
Think not I reproach you. Rather I honour you for it, as never before have I honoured woman. But for this I reproach my fate—and the thought is a gnawing pain to me—that you and I were not sooner brought face to face.Elina Gyldenlöve! Your mother has told me of you. While far from Östråt life ran its restless course, you went your lonely way in silence, living in your dreams and histories. Therefore you will understand what I have to tell you.—Know, then, that once I too lived even such a life as yours. Methought that when I stepped forth into the great world, a noble and stately woman would come to meet me, and would beckon to me and point out the path towards a glorious goal.—I was deceived, Elina Gyldenlöve! Women came to meet me; but she was not among them. Ere yet I had come to full manhood, I had learnt to despise them all.
Was it my fault? Why were not the others even as you?—I know the fate of your fatherland lies heavy on your soul; and you know the
