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Strindberg, August, 1849-1912

"Married"

...
comes her voice from the drawing-room.
"Bang!" the sound came from behind the walnut tree. It was followed by
a snapping of branches and a crunching of sand.
The talkers jumped to their feet.
The body of a well-dressed man lay across the road, with his head
against the leg of a chair.
The song stopped abruptly. The ladies rushed into the garden. The
friend poured a few drops of eau de Cologne which she held in her
hand, on the face of the prostrate man.
When she realised that it was no fainting fit, she started back.
"Horrible!" she exclaimed, putting her hand up to her face.
The elder of the two men, who was stooping over; the dead body, looked
up.
"Be silent, woman!" he exclaimed.
"What a brute!" said the friend.
The dead man's wife fainted, but was caught in the arms of her friend
and tenderly nursed by the rest of the women.
"Send for a doctor!" shouted the elder of the two men. "Run!"
Nobody took any notice; everybody was busy with the unconscious wife.
"To bring such grief on his wife! Oh! what a man! What a man!" sobbed
the friend.
"Has no one a thought for the dying man? All this' fuss because a woman
has fainted! Give her some brandy, that will revive her!"
"The wretched man has deserved his fate!" said the friend emphatically.


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