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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 assistance 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 emancipate 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, “God’s” curse rested on her. That “God” 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 sexes, which are now friends, now enemies. He had met the enemy, an overwhelming enemy.

“What is a capon?” he was asked by one of his sisters one day. She was busy with her needlework and asked the question a propos of nothing.

He looked at her suspiciously. No, she did not know the meaning of the word; she had probably listened to a conversation and her curiosity was aroused.