In the midst of it all came the incident of Tora. His mother _insisted_ on speaking to him. The first time, as we know, she was interrupted; but when Tora was asleep she went in and confided it all to him. He perceived at once its bearing on the school, on her friends, and on himself, and fell into such a fury against Niels Fürst, whom he had not loved before, as can be best described by his own exclamation: "If I had him here I would beat him to a jelly with my own two hands." Although Tomas had no outward resemblance to his father, he could look so like him that it made Fru Rendalen shudder. This very fear gave her courage. For a whole year she had seen how his impatience, irritability, and quickness of temper increased. When she herself aroused it she did no more than justify herself, or perhaps go away; he had really cowed her by degrees. But now another was in question. Tora's despair forced her on; it had, too, an alarming resemblance to what she saw before her. When, after another overpowering outburst, he was about to rush away, she placed herself before him. "Tomas, you frighten the life out of me with your violence. You give way to it more and more; it will grow beyond you at last, my son." He shuddered, and grew deadly white. "Yes, excess is excess in whatever way it shows itself, and I think you ought to be on your guard." Her voice trembled; their eyes met and measured each other; an unhappiness and bitterness had risen into his, which wounded her. "What, Tomas, may I not so much as warn you--I, your own mother? No, do not look at me like that. It is not _my_ fault. I have combated it as well as I could--yes, before you were born, Tomas, and I intend to combat it still. For the last year you have not struggled against your temper, and it is especially on me that you vent it." He stood near the window, looking out. He turned now with a melancholy expression. "What is it, Tomas? Tell me, in God's name, what it is." But he turned away again, and laid his head on his arm. "I do not understand you, Tomas, you are so supercilious to me. You say there is something naturally blind about me, and I know it. Yes, you often humiliate me--often when I am alone, and that I can bear; but often before others as well, and that you should not do. At all events, you ought to be able to bear having your faults pointed out to you by me." She said the last words almost humbly; they worked strongly upon him. He did not speak, but he turned and began to walk quickly up and down in visible agitation.