"Let us say," went on Sigrun again, "that your wife noticed last autumn, more distinctly than before, that you did not love her. Perhaps you read that poem oftener--how can I tell? And so she went away, but she did it in such a manner that you should not think she had gone for love of you, to make life easier for you. That was why she went with Gustavsson. I have spoken of this with your mother, and she agrees with me entirely. And Gustavsson himself told me so. 'She came to me because Sven Elversson did not care for her'--that was what he said." Sven Elversson raised his hands deprecatingly. "Why must I hear all this?" he said. "How can you think it will make me happier to know it?" "Yes," said Sigrun; "it is always good to know that one has been loved by one who was good. And well, too, that you need not now suspect her of deceit or fickleness. You see what it was: she was made of the same stuff as that soldier we have just read of, who came home from the wars. And so you see," Sigrun went on, "it was she who taught me how to love. How love can pass all understanding, how it can fill one's soul to such a degree that it lets its own body be destroyed." She rose up, and stood behind Sven Elversson's chair. And in so doing, she turned so that her husband, from where he was, could see her face. At sight of it, he almost started back, before the supernatural beauty that shone in her lovely features. She spoke quickly now, following up her thoughts without waiting for reply. "The poem in that book of yours, Herr Elversson, that you are always reading, is called 'A Song to Sigrun.' And whether it were because of the name, or for some other reason, your wife believed she knew who it was you loved." Sven Elversson would have spoken, made some protest, or assurance, but she stopped him. "Let me finish, that you may know how your wife could love in death as in life. Try to imagine her as a soul that is nothing but love, right down to the most unconscious depths, nothing but love, and that this soul determines to sacrifice itself for the one she loves. Finds ways and means that another would never have thought of, takes possession of another human being's will, leads, guides, accomplishes, whispering thoughts, dictating speech, compelling all things to her wish." Sven Elversson shook his head. Very gently, but immovably, he said: "Now you are talking like Lotta Hedman."