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Invisible Links by Selma Lagerlöf
page 31 of 254 (12%)
marched in peace and order. The villagers' cheeks flushed; some of
them threw down their cudgels; others put them on their shoulders
like muskets. And so the prisoners were transferred into the
keeping of the police, and were taken to the prison in the
market-place.

Those who had saved the town stood a long time in the market-place
and told of their courage and of their great exploit. And in the
little room of the inn, where the smoke is as thick as a cloud, and
the great men of the town mix their midnight toddy, more is heard
of the deed, magnified. They grow bigger in their rocking-chairs;
they swell in their sofa corners; they are all heroes. What force
is slumbering in that little town of mighty memories! Thou
formidable inheritance, thou old Viking blood!

The old Mayor did not like the whole affair. He could not quite
reconcile himself to the stirring of the old Viking blood. He could
not sleep for thinking of it, and went out again into the street
and strolled slowly towards the square.

It was a mild spring night. The church clock's only hand pointed to
eleven. The balls had ceased to roll on the bowling alley. The
curtains were drawn down. The houses seemed to sleep with closed
eyelids. The steep hill behind was black, as if in mourning. But in
the midst of all the sleep there was one thing awake--the fragrance
of the flowers did not sleep. It stole over the linden hedges;
poured out from the gardens; rushed up and down the street; climbed
up to every window standing open, to every skylight that sucked in
fresh air.

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