Fru Adelheid sat, book in hand, without reading.  
It was late. Finn had been with her and had said good-night and Cordt was not at home. It was silent in the house and silent outside.
 
She had a feeling as though she were alone in the world.
 
Fru Adelheid was not happy.
 
The peace which the good grey years had brought had departed from the house. She could not see her way anywhere: not with Finn, not when she was alone, least of all when Cordt was in the room.
 
She did not feel safe even at church. It would happen to her that she left[242] church heavier in mind than when she entered. It also happened that she simply dared not go in, but turned back, when the organ pealed to her in the porch.
 
She sat and stared, with her white hands folded in her lap. She wanted to try if she could think the thing out to the end. But she had tried before, with ever-decreasing success.
 
First, there was the going back to the old room.
 
This was the beginning and she could not but think that it was the whole matter, for, in truth, she had never got over it. She could not defend herself against the memories that came crowding one upon the other. Her blood grew hot, her eyes moist, without her knowing why.
 
She suffered from a constant terror which she could neither explain nor shake off. Now it was Finn, whose pale[243] face frightened her. Now it was Cordt, who was silent and ever more silent and brooded over his thoughts.
 
Then she was overcome as by a despairing remorse and she could not see how she had offended. Then she went in a secret dread of revenge and she knew of no one who meant her any harm.
 
There were days on which every step she took gave a dull and threatening echo of the old days. She felt as though she were living in a house whose walls were full of secret recesses with old documents which would upset everything that existed, if they came to light ... she felt as though she were walking over mysterious vaults that concealed the traces of mysterious crimes.
 
Wearily, Fru Adelheid leant her head upon her hand and let her hand fall again. She half rose in her chair and hid her face in the roses that stood on the table before[244] her. She took up the book and put it down at once.
 
Then Cordt came.
 
He nodded to her, went to the farther side of the room and sat down with a book.
 
She looked at him timidly. She heard him turn the pages and wondered what book it was. She asked him. He answered, without looking up, and the silence increased twofold.
 
Fru Adelheid sighed and rose to go to bed:
 
“Good-night, Cordt.”
 
He closed the book and tossed it on the table. She stopped and looked at him. Then he asked:
 
“Has Hans been here to-day?”
 
She sat down in her chair again. He had got up and was pacing the room. She waited and listened to his footsteps.
 
Then she could bear it no longer:
 
[245]“Cordt!”
 
He stopped and looked at her.
 
“Cordt ... Finn will die, if Hans is always with him.”
 
“Yes,” he said, softly and sorrowfully. “Finn will die and you will die and I shall die. But Hans will live.”
 
“What are you trying to do with him, Cordt?”
 
“Have you forgotten what I want?”
 
He looked at her and his eyes hurt her.
 
“I wonder if your wish is also mine, Cordt,” she asked.
 
“No.”
 
He said that calmly, without anger, but also without hesitation.
 
Then she leapt up:
 
“Your wish was never mine ... never! You have been able to persuade me and frighten me and force me.... I never meant it, Cordt, never ... even when I agreed.”
 
[246]“Let the dead days be, Adelheid.”
 
“And now ... Cordt.... Now I am farther away from you ... now you understand me less than ever ... there is something in me now that is a thousand times stronger than what parted us then.”
 
Cordt looked at her with a tempest in his strong eyes:
 
“So there is in me, Adelheid.”
 
He stood before her, drawn up to his full height. She thought he seemed taller than usual and his face looked strangely young.
 
“There is Finn,” he said.
 
Fru Adelheid sat in her chair, because she could not stand.
 
“You speak as if he were your son and not mine,” she said.
 
She did not take her eyes from his face. She could not get rid of the thought that he looked so young. His hair had not a sign of grey, his walk was easy and erect[247] as in the old days, his eyes glowed with the same strength and the same confidence.
 
She bent forward and stared and sought. Surely she must be able to find the wounds which sorrow had given him, the marks which age had brought.
 
Cordt did not look at her. He stood with his hands folded about his neck and with strangely distant eyes:
 
“You have said it, Adelheid ... it is as you say ... there is something now that is a thousand times greater than what parted us then. We mortals always think, when misfortunes come, that no more will come now ... that it must be over now. And so there is no d............