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Strindberg, August, 1849-1912

"Married"

The nurse came in with the
little ones. His face lighted up, for, he thought, when they are grown
up they will reap in joy what we have sown in tears; then their
conscience will only trouble them when they have sinned against the
laws of nature; they won't have to suffer from whims which have been
caned into us at school, drummed into us by the parsons, invented by
the upper classes for their own benefit.
The Baroness sat down at the piano when the maids and the footmen
entered. She played melancholy old dances, dear to the heart of the
people of the North, while the servants danced gravely with the
children. It was very much like the penitential part of divine
service.
After that the presents were distributed among the children, and the
servants received their gifts. And then the children were put to bed.
The Baroness went into the drawing-room and sat down in an arm-chair.
The Baron threw himself on a footstool at her feet. He rested his head
on her knees. It was so heavy--so heavy. She silently stroked his
forehead. "What! was he weeping?"
"Yes!"
She had never before seen a man weep. It was a terrible sight. His big
strong frame shook, but he made no sound.
"Why was he weeping?"
"Because he was unhappy.


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