Part 45 (1/2)

Olof strode furiously up and down, then came to a standstill before her. His rage flamed up again, and he set himself to play the part of a judge.

”Defy me, would you?” he shouted, pale with anger. ”Do you know what you are? A liar, a perjured hypocrite! Do you know what you have done?

You have cheated me! You have ruined my wedding night, trampled on my happiness and my future--you have shamed me in the eyes of the world.

You are no pure and innocent girl, but a....”

He stopped, breathless, and stood gasping for a moment, then went on brokenly: ”But now it is out. Now you shall answer for it all. Do you know a fellow who was here to-night--a wretched little worm with a red rosette in his coat? You know who I mean well enough--deny it if you dare!”

”Yes, I know him well. What of it?”

”Ah, you know him--yes....” He gave a hoa.r.s.e, nervous laugh. ”That ghastly little abortion came to me to-night and told me....”

He stopped, on purpose to torture her the more.

”What did he tell you?” asked Kyllikki breathlessly.

”You know well enough ... _that you had given him long ago what should have been mine to-night!_”

He stood enjoying the effect of his words: Kyllikki staggered as if struck--exactly as he had intended.

The girl was trembling in every limb. She felt a loathing for the man before her--and for all his s.e.x. These men, that lied about women, or cried out about what was _theirs_ on their wedding night, raved of _their_ happiness, demanding purity and innocence of others, but not of themselves ... she felt that there could be no peace, no reconciliation between them now, only bitterness and the ruin of all they had hoped for together.

”And what then?” she asked coldly, with lifted head.

”What then?” cried Olof wildly. ”What....”

”Yes. Go on. That was only one. Are there no more who have told you the same thing?”

”More? My G.o.d--I could kill you now!”

”Do!” She faced him defiantly, and went on with icy calm: ”And how many girls are there who can say the same of you?”

Olof started as if he had been stabbed. He put his hands to his head, and strode violently up and down, muttering wildly: ”Kill you--yes, kill you and myself too, kill, kill, kill....”

So he went on for a while, then, flinging himself down on the sofa, he tore open his coat, s.n.a.t.c.hed off the white rosette he wore, and threw it down, crying out in agony: ”Why must I suffer like this? Was there ever such a wedding night? It is h.e.l.l, h.e.l.l...!”

Kyllikki stood calmly watching him. She was gradually feeling more sure of herself now. At last she moved towards him.

”Do you want me to love you?” she said quietly. ”Or must I hate you and despise you? You listen to the stories of a drunken fool, instead of asking the one person in the world you should trust; you give me no explanation when I ask you. Is it any wonder, after all, that the man should have said what he did--to let you taste for once a drop of the poison you have poured out for who knows how many others? As for him, I knew him when we were children--there was some talk of our being married, years ago. He was five years older than I, and was too young then to know of any harm in an occasional caress. More than that never--though it seems in his drunken wickedness he tried to make out there was.”

”Kyllikki, is it true?” cried Olof, springing to his feet.

”It is true. _I_ am still pure, but you--have you the right to ask a pure woman to be your wife?”

”Have I the right....” he began haughtily; but the words died on his lips, and he sank back on the sofa, covering his face with his hands, as if to keep out visions of dread.

”It would have been only just,” Kyllikki went on, ”if it had been as you believed--yes, it should have been so! And you knew it--and _so_ you stormed and threatened to kill me!”

She paused for a moment; Olof quailed under her glance.