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Updated: May 9, 2025
"If you come to-morrow, then you will come again till it's done," said the trees. "Come, and be welcome!" Olof walked home whistling cheerfully; he felt as if the house were already built up round him. It was a great thing, enough to take up all his thoughts, and strong enough in itself to strengthen him anew. "Kyllikki, You will be surprised, no doubt, to hear from me again after so many years.
She spoke with such intensity of feeling that Olof never thought of saying a word in defence he felt as if he were being lashed and beaten violently, yet no worse than he deserved. "Well, why don't you say something? Aren't you going to stand up for your sex? Why don't you turn me out, eh? Fool like the rest of you! What is it you offer us, tell me that? Your bodies! And what else?
Olof the groom, whom he saw standing alive and well beside him, he had seen a week before lying dead amongst the others with a great wound in his throat. Torarin took a firmer hold of the reins. He thought the best thing for him was to make off as soon as he could. But Olof the groom's hand still lay upon his shoulder, and the old fellow gave him no peace.
Then he gazed earnestly into the child's face, with its wise, bright eyes, and seemed to find something there that promised well for the future. "Dear little rascal!" he cried ecstatically, and tenderly he kissed the child's forehead. The boy made no sound, but seemed to be observing the pair. Olof laid him down in the cradle. "Can't he say anything? Can't you laugh, little son?"
She turned towards him, and their eyes met then they passed out of the room together. The old man remained seated, a sharp pain at his breast. A flush of anger rose to his cheeks, and his lips trembled, but he could not speak, and sat still, staring at the floor. In the next room, the mother turned anxiously to her son, and grasped his hand. "Olof!" "Mother!" The boy was trembling.
"I'll tell you what this place is," she said, looking up between sobs. "'Tis hell and in hell you're always wanting something to wet the tip of your tongue I've read that somewhere, haven't I? Oh, oh...!" She fell to sobbing again. Olof felt he could bear it no longer. He would have liked to comfort her, but his tongue was dry, he could not speak.
And what I asked for then, and you gave me? I have often wondered since whether, perhaps, you might have misunderstood it all when I was so serious and thoughtful about it if you thought I was not certain of myself, not sure that I should always be yours, as I wished to be. But it was not so, dear Olof; I knew myself well enough even then, though not so deeply as I do now.
"And it is so terrible to see it all and be helpless," she went on. "You are a wanderer still and I cannot hold you ... you leave me for those that wait for you...." "O Heaven!" cried Olof in agony. "Kyllikki, don't don't speak like that. You know I do not care for any other would not be with any other but you." "But you go even against your will. And they come towards you smiling.
I have been like a fairy palace, with a splendid hall to which none could find the key. But you had it all the time the others could enter this little room or that, but only you had the key to the best of all." "Is it really true, Olof? Oh, I shall remember those words for ever!"
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?"
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