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Updated: June 24, 2025
When Erick had ended, the grandfather sat for a while quiet and lost in thought; then he said: "Your mother must have found a treasure when in misery, which is worth more than all the good luck and possessions which she had lost. The dear God sent that to her, and we will thank Him for it, my boy.
He now looked round and saw that he was firmly wedged in and could not move, for two more women had forced themselves between the sitters, and the whole passage the full length of the church was densely thronged with people. So Erick sat, quiet as a mouse, and did not stir until the sermon and prayer were at an end.
Churi saw this picture always before him and for fear, he could no longer eat nor sleep; and he dared look at no one. And when the report came that Erick had turned up again, then his fear increased. For now, so he thought, it would surely come out that he had done the deed; and now he was sure that the police would come to get him.
She folded the hands of the departed one on her breast, then she sat down on Erick's bed, looking now at the serious face of the dead mother, now at the care-free sleeping boy, and wept quietly, until the rays of the morning sun fell into the quiet room and roused Marianne to the consciousness that a new, sad day had begun a day on which Erick had to be told that he never again on this earth could take hold of the loving hand of his mother.
He expressed an anxious wish that his labours would redound to the glory of his Maker, to whom he offered up the most ardent prayers. He enjoined his sons and his son-in-law not to allow them to be lost. Among those who never quitted Tycho in his illness, was Erick Brahe, Count Wittehorn, a Swede, and a relation of his own, and Counsellor to the King of Poland.
Kaetheli went toward the church, and Sally knew that she too had to go in; but she could hardly walk from fear and anguish, and as she sat on her bench within, she saw and heard nothing of the whole organ festivities, for she only saw the disfigured Erick before her, how he was sitting in the vineyard and moaning, and her tears fell so plentifully that she could no longer look up.
The pastor now walked behind the last of the congregation toward the bench. He stepped into the pew and put his hand on Erick's shoulder and asked kindly: "Why are you weeping so hard, my boy?" "Because because because they sang Mother's song," sobbed Erick. "What is your name?" the pastor asked again. "Erick Dorn," was the answer. Now the pastor knew what to do.
When she was there, she often said: "Go out a little to play with the children, Erick, it will be good for you and you will have time afterwards to do your lessons." Erick had always gone out, as far as the hedge before the house, and had stopped and watched how here and there the children were running about and playing all kinds of games; but he had never joined them.
But big Churi, the leader of the Middle Lotters, our enemies, is Hannibal. But you see, I just remember something: Churi is not a real Hannibal, for he was a great and noble general, and Churi cannot represent him; but do you know what, we can take the strange boy Erick, for Hannibal! he looks quite different from Churi, shall we?"
How much had to be told to the grandfather of the happenings of the last and all former days, and Erick had to throw in a question now and then, which referred to the distant estate, for his thoughts always travelled back to that spot. "Is Mother's white pony still alive, Grandfather?" he once suddenly asked. The beautiful pony had long been put away, was the answer.
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