"Oh! I see; Louisa is the chosen mistress!"
"There"s no chosen mistress, but a mother always has a right to choose the future wife of her son; n.o.body is so well fitted to undertake such a task. Do you doubt my good faith? Can you possibly suspect me, your mother, of a wish to injure you?"
"No, no! but I--I don"t love Louisa; I like her as a sister, but...."
"Love? Nothing in all the world is so inconstant as love! It"s folly to rely on it, it pa.s.ses away like a breath; but friendship, conformity of views and habits, similar interests and a long acquaintanceship, these are the surest guarantees of a happy marriage. Louisa is a capable girl, domesticated and methodical, she will make your home as happy as you could wish."
Frithiof"s only way of escape was to beg his mother for time to consider the matter.
Meanwhile all the ladies of the household had recovered their health, so that the doctor was no longer required. Still he called one day, but he was treated like a burglar who had come to spy out the land. He was a sharp man and saw at once how matters stood. Frithiof returned his call but was received coldly. This was the end of their friendly relations.
Frithiof came of age.
Frantic attempts were now made to carry the fortress by storm. The aunts cringed before the new master and tried to prove to him that they could not be dispensed with, by treating him as if he were a child. His sisters mothered him more than ever, and Louisa began to devote a great deal of attention to her dress. She laced herself tightly and curled her hair. She was by no means a plain girl, but she had cold eyes and a sharp tongue.
Frithiof remained indifferent; as far as he was concerned she was s.e.xless; he had never looked at her with the eyes of a man. But now, after the conversation with his mother, he could not help a certain feeling of embarra.s.sment in her presence, especially as she seemed to seek his society. He met her everywhere; on the stairs, in the garden, in the stables even. One morning, when he was still in bed, she came into his room to ask him for a pin; she was wearing a dressing-jacket and pretended to be very shy.
He took a dislike to her, but nevertheless she was always in his mind.
In the meantime the mother had one conversation after another with her son, and aunt and sisters never ceased hinting at the antic.i.p.ated wedding.
Life was made a burden to him. He saw no way of escape from the net in which he had been caught. Louisa was no longer his sister and friend, though he did not like her any the better for it; his constant dwelling on the thought of marrying her had had the result of making him realise that she was a woman, an unsympathetic woman, it was true, but still a woman. His marriage would mean a change in his position, and, perhaps, delivery from bondage. There were no other girls in the neighbourhood, and, after all, she was probably as good as any other young woman.
And so he went one day to his mother and told her that he had made up his mind. He would marry Louisa on condition that he should have an establishment of his own in one of the wings of the house, and his own table. He also insisted that his mother should propose for him, for he could not bring himself to do it.
The compromise was accepted and Louisa was called in to receive Frithiof"s embrace and timid kiss. They both wept for reasons which neither of them understood. They felt ashamed of themselves for the rest of the day. Afterwards everything went on as before, but the motherliness of aunts and sisters knew no bounds. They furnished the wing, arranged the rooms, settled everything; Frithiof was never consulted in the matter.
The preparations for the wedding were completed. Old friends, buried in the provinces, were hunted up and invited to be present at the ceremony.
The wedding took place.
On the morning after his wedding day Frithiof was up early. He left his bed-room as quickly as possible, pretending that his presence was necessary in the fields.
Louisa, who was still sleepy, made no objection. But as he was going out she called after him:
"You won"t forget breakfast at eleven!"
It sounded like a command.
He went to his den, put on a shooting coat and waterproof boots and took his gun, which he kept concealed in his wardrobe. Then he went out into the wood.
It was a beautiful October morning. Everything was covered with h.o.a.r frost. He walked quickly as if he were afraid of being called back, or as if he were trying to escape from something. The fresh air had the effect of a bath. He felt a free man, at last, and he used his freedom to go out for a morning stroll with his gun. But this exhilarating feeling of bodily freedom soon pa.s.sed. Up to now he had at least had a bedroom of his own. He had been master of his thoughts during the day and his dreams at night. That was over. The thought of that common bedroom tormented him; there was something unclean about it. Shame was cast aside like a mask, all delicacy of feeling was dispensed with, every illusion of the "high origin" of man destroyed; to come into such close contact with nothing but the beast in man had been too much for him, for he had been brought up by idealists. He was staggered by the enormity of the hypocrisy displayed in the intercourse between men and women; it was a revelation to him to find that the inmost substance of that indescribable womanliness was nothing but the fear of consequences. But supposing he had married the doctor"s daughter, or the gardener"s little girl? Then to be alone with her would be bliss, while to be alone with his wife was depressing and unlovely; then the coa.r.s.e desire to satisfy a curiosity and a want would be transformed into an ecstasy more spiritual than carnal.
He wandered through the wood without a purpose, without an idea of what he wanted to shoot; be only felt a vague desire to hear a shot and to kill something; but nothing came before his gun. The birds had already migrated. Only a squirrel was climbing about the branches of a pine-tree, staring at him with brilliant eyes. He raised the gun and pulled the trigger; but the nimble little beast was already on the other side of the trunk when the shot hit the tree. But the sound impressed his nerves pleasantly.
He left the footpath and went through the undergrowth. He stamped on every fungus that grew on his way. He was in a destructive mood. He looked for a snake so as to trample on it or kill it with a shot.
Suddenly he remembered that he ought to go home and that it was the morning after his wedding day. The mere thought of the curious glances to which he would be exposed had the effect of making him feel like a criminal, about to be unmasked and shown up for having committed a crime against good manners and, what was worse, against nature. Oh!
that he could have left this world behind him! But how was he to do that?
His thoughts grew tired at last of revolving round and round the same problem and he felt a craving for food.
He decided to return home and have some breakfast.
On entering the gate which led to the court yard, he saw the whole house-party standing before the entrance hall. As soon as they caught sight of him they began to cheer. He crossed the yard with uncertain footsteps and listened with ill-concealed irritation to the sly questions after his health. Then he turned away and went into the house, never noticing his wife, who was standing amongst the group waiting for him to go up to her and kiss her.
At the breakfast table he suffered tortures; tortures which he knew would be burnt into his memory for all times. The insinuations of his guests offended him and his wife"s caresses stung him. His day of rejoicing was the most miserable day of his life.
In the course of a few months the young wife, with the a.s.sistance of aunts and sisters, had established her over-rule in the house. Frithiof remained, what he had always been, the youngest and dullest member of the household. His advice was sometimes asked for, but never acted upon; he was looked after as if he were still a child. His wife soon found it unbearable to dine with him alone, for he kept an obstinate silence during the meal. Louisa could not stand it; she must have a lightning conductor; one of the sisters removed into the wing.
Frithiof made more than one attempt to emanc.i.p.ate himself, but his attempts were always frustrated by the enemy; they were too many for him, and they talked and preached until he fled into the wood.
The evenings held terror for him. He hated the bedroom, and went to it as to a place of execution. He became morose and avoided everybody.
They had been married for a year now, and still there was no promise of a child; his mother took him aside one day to have a talk to him.
"Wouldn"t you like to have a son?" she asked.
"Of course, I would," he replied.
"You aren"t treating your wife very kindly," said the mother as gently as possible.
He lost his temper.
"What? What do you say? Are you finding fault with me? Do you want me to toil all day long? H"m! You don"t know Louisa! But whose business is it but mine? Bring your charge against me in such a way that I can answer it!"
But the mother was not disposed to do that.
Lonely and miserable, he made friends with the inspector, a young man, addicted to wine and cards. He sought his company and spent the evenings in his room; he went to bed late, as late as possible.
On coming home one night, he found his wife still awake and waiting for him.
"Where have you been?" she asked sharply.
"That"s my business," he replied.
"To be married and have no husband is anything but pleasant," she rejoined. "If we had a child, at least!"
"It isn"t my fault that we haven"t!"
"It isn"t mine!"
A quarrel arose as to whose fault it was, and the quarrel lasted for two years.
As both of them were too obstinate to take medical advice, the usual thing happened. The husband cut a ridiculous figure, and the wife a tragic one. He was told that a childless woman was sacred because, for some reason or other, "G.o.d"s" curse rested on her. That "G.o.d" could also stoop to curse a man was beyond the women"s comprehension.
But Frithiof had no doubt that a curse rested on him for his life was dreary and unhealthy. Nature has created two s.e.xes, which are now friends, now enemies. He had met the enemy, an overwhelming enemy.