No knife should touch her, for she was not dead to
him; but his resistance was overborne. Then he flew into a passion and
tried to kick and bite the doctor.
When they had bedded her into the earth, he built a monument over her
grave, and for a whole year he visited it every day. In the second
year he did not go quite so often. His work was heavy and he had little
spare time. He began to feel the burden of the years; his step was less
elastic; his wound was healing. Sometimes he felt ashamed when he
realised that he was mourning less and less for his child as time went
by; and finally he forgot all about it.
Two more girls were born to him, but it was not the same thing; the
void left by the one who had passed away could never be filled.
Life was a hard struggle. The young wife who had once been like--like
no other woman on earth, had gradually lost her glamour; the gilding
had worn off the home which had once been so bright and beautiful. The
children had bruised and dented their mother's wedding presents, spoiled
the beds and kicked the legs of the furniture. The stuffing of the sofa
was plainly visible here and there, and the piano had not been opened
for years. The noise made by the children had drowned the music and the
voices had become harsh.
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