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Strindberg, August, 1849-1912

"Married"


When two months had elapsed, long before his new circumstances had
begun to pall, his wife whispered a certain piece of information into
his ear. New joys! New cares! But cares so pleasant to bear! It was
necessary, however, to increase their income at once, so as to receive
the unknown world-citizen in a manner befitting his dignity. He managed
to obtain an order for a translation.
Baby-clothes lay scattered about all over the furniture, a cradle
stood waiting in the hall, and at last a splendid boy arrived in this
world of sorrows.
The father was delighted. And yet he could not help a vague feeling of
uneasiness whenever he thought of the future. Income and expenditure
did not balance. Nothing remained but to reduce his dress allowance.
His frock coat began to look threadbare at the seams; his shirt front
was hidden underneath a large tie, his trousers were frayed. It was an
undeniable fact that the porters at the office looked down on him on
account of his shabbiness.
In addition to this he was compelled to lengthen his working day.
"It must be the first and last," he said. But how was it to be done?
He was at a loss to know.
Three months later his wife prepared him in carefully chosen words
that his paternal joys would soon be doubled.


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