Ugly thoughts, born of
solitude and loneliness. She would never, never again stay alone. They
fell asleep in each other's arms, her face dimpled with smiles.
But she did not go to meet him on the following day. He asked no
questions at lunch. He talked a lot, but more for the sake of talking
than to amuse her; it seemed as if he were talking to himself.
In the evening he entertained her with long descriptions of the life
at Castle Sjostaholm; he mimicked the young ladies talking to the
Baron, and told her the names of the Count's horses. And on the
following day he mentioned his dissertation.
One afternoon he came home very tired. She was sitting in the
drawing-room, waiting for him. Her ball of cotton had fallen on the
floor. In passing, his foot got entangled in the cotton; at his next
step he pulled her crochet work out of her hand and dragged it along;
then he lost his temper and kicked it aside.
She exclaimed at his rudeness.
He retorted that he had no time to bother about her rubbish, and
advised her to spend her time more profitably. He had to think of his
dissertation, if he was to have a career at all. And she ought to
consider the question of how to limit their household expenses.
Things had gone far indeed!
On the next day the young wife, her eyes swollen with weeping, was
knitting socks for her husband.
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