How was she going to arrange her future? She was free, but in reality she was married still; for three years she would have to live somewhere, pay rent, keep house for herself. She had worried and fretted about this for two long days without anyone to help her; what could have happened to Irgens? God only knew where he kept himself. She had not once seen her former husband. She started for Irgens's rooms. Surely he would help her find a place and get settled! Oh, it was fine to have an end to this daily galling restraint; here she had been tortured by dissatisfaction and restlessness for months and years, ever since she had been introduced to the clique and had acquired a taste for their irresponsible mode of living. She was free, free and young! She would overwhelm Irgens with this joyful news, he who had so often sighed for that divorce during their most intimate hours-- Irgens was at home at last. She told him the great news at once. She recounted how it had happened, repeated Tidemand's words, and praised his superiority. She gazed into Irgens's eyes; her own were sparkling. Irgens, however, did not show any great exultation; he smiled, said yes and no, asked her if she were satisfied now. So she was really going to get a divorce? He was glad to hear it; it was foolish to go through life in this heart-breaking manner.... But he sat there very quietly and discussed the great news in an every-day voice. Gradually, very gradually, she came to earth; her heart began to flutter wildly. "It seems as if the news does not make you so very happy, Irgens," she said. "Happy? Of course I am. Why shouldn't I be happy? You have sighed for this for a long time; why shouldn't I rejoice with you now? I do, most assuredly." Words only, without fire, without warmth even! What could have happened? Did he not love her any more? She sat there, her heart heavy within her; she wanted to gain time, to hush the wakening terror in her breast. She said: "But, dear, where have you been all this time? I have called on you three times without finding you in." He answered, choosing his words carefully, that she must have missed him because of an unfortunate series of accidents. He went out occasionally, of course; but he spent most of his time at home. Where in the world could he go? He went nowhere. Pause. Finally she yielded abjectly to her fears and stammered: "Well, Irgens, I am yours now, entirely yours! I am going to leave the house--You will thank me, won't you? It will take three years, of course, but then--" She stopped suddenly; she felt that he was squirming, that he was bracing himself against the inevitable; her terror increased as he remained silent. A few anguished moments went by.