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    Saint Veronica’s Kerchief
    Saint Veronica’s Kerchief
    Saint Veronica’s Kerchief
    Ebook58 pages53 minutes

    Saint Veronica’s Kerchief

    By Selma Lagerlöf

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    About this ebook

    In the short Easter story "Saint Veronica's Kerchief", an elderly woman brings the healing love of Christ to a dying Emperor. A beautiful narrative of the traditional Christian story by world-famed author Selma Lagerlöf presented in a refined digital edition.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAli Ribelli Edizioni
    Release dateJan 4, 2018
    ISBN9788833460345
    Saint Veronica’s Kerchief
    Author

    Selma Lagerlöf

    Selma Ottilia Lovisa Lagerlöf; 20 November 1858 – 16 March 1940) was a Swedish writer. She published her first novel, Gösta Berling's Saga, at the age of 33. She was the first woman to win the Nobel Prize in Literature, which she was awarded in 1909. Additionally, she was the first woman to be granted a membership in the Swedish Academy in 1914.

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      Book preview

      Saint Veronica’s Kerchief - Selma Lagerlöf

      First published 1904

      Published by Ali Ribelli Edizioni.

      www.aliribelli.com - redazione@aliribelli.com

      Saint Veronica’s Kerchief

      by Selma Lagerlöf

      Index

      I

      II

      III

      IV

      V

      VI

      VII

      VIII

      IX

      I

      During one of the latter years of Emperor Tiberius’s reign, a poor vinedresser and his wife came and settled in a solitary hut among the Sabine mountains. They were strangers and lived in absolute solitude, without ever receiving a visit from a human being. But one morning when the laborer opened his door, he found, to his astonishment, that an old woman sat huddled up on the threshold. She was wrapped in a plain gray mantle and looked very poor. Nevertheless, she impressed him as compelling so much respect, as she rose and came to meet him, that it made him think of what the legends had to say about goddesses who, in the form of old women, had visited mortals.

      My friend, said the old woman to the vinedresser, you must not wonder that I have slept this night on your threshold. My parents lived in this hut, and here I was born nearly ninety years ago. I expected to find it empty and deserted. I did not know that people still occupied it.

      I do not wonder that you thought a hut which lies so high up among these desolate hills should stand empty and deserted, said the vinedresser. But my wife and I come from a foreign land, and as poor strangers we have not been able to find a better dwelling place. But to you, who must be tired and hungry after the long journey which you at your extreme age have undertaken, it is perhaps more welcome that the hut is occupied by people than by Sabine mountain wolves. You will at least find a bed within to rest on, and a bowl of goats’ milk, and a bread-cake, if you will accept them.

      The old woman smiled a little, but this smile was so fleeting that it could not dispel the expression of deep sorrow which rested upon her countenance.

      I spent my entire youth up here among these mountains, she said. I have not yet forgotten the trick of driving a wolf from his lair.

      And she actually looked so strong and vigorous that the laborer didn’t doubt that she still possessed strength enough, despite her great age, to fight with the wild beasts of the forest.

      He repeated his invitation, and the old woman stepped into the cottage. She sat down to the frugal meal and partook of it without hesitancy. Although she seemed to be well satisfied with the fare of coarse bread soaked in goats’ milk, both the man and his wife thought: Where can this old wanderer come from? She has certainly eaten pheasants served on silver plates oftener than she has drunk goats’ milk from earthen bowls.

      Now and then she raised her eyes from the food and looked around – as if attempting to realize that she was back in the hut. The poor old home with its bare clay walls and its earth floor was certainly not much changed. She pointed out to her hosts that on the walls there were still visible some traces of dogs and deer which her father had sketched there to amuse his little children. And on a shelf, high up, she thought she saw fragments of an earthen dish which she herself had used to measure milk in.

      The man and his wife thought to themselves, It must be true that she was born in this hut, but she has surely had much more to attend to in this life than milking goats and making butter and cheese.

      They observed also that her thoughts were often far away, and that she sighed heavily and anxiously every time she came back to herself.

      Finally she rose from the table. She thanked them graciously for the hospitality she had enjoyed, and walked toward the door.

      But then it seemed to the vinedresser that she was pitifully poor and lonely, and he exclaimed, "If I am not mistaken, it was not your intention, when you dragged yourself up here last night, to leave this hut so soon. If you are actually as poor as you seem, it must have been your intention to remain here for the rest of your life. But now you wish to leave

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