“No, no,” he said softly. “But is there any sense in going on like this? Here are you, young as you are, with nothing on earth to do all the time but keep guard over yourself and get others to do the same. And the Lord in heaven knows you promised me a thing, but it means so little to you; you take a pleasure in putting me off and beating me down with your great white wings.” “Great white wings,” she murmured to herself. “Yes, you might have great red wings. Look at yourself now, standing there all lovely as you are, and all for nothing.” “Oh, I think the wine has gone to my head! All for nothing, indeed!” Then suddenly she takes his hand and leads him down the steps. I can hear her voice: “Why should I care? Does he imagine Elisabet's so much better?” They pass along the path to the summer-house. Here she hesitates, and stops. “Oh, where are we going?” she asks. “Haha, we must be mad! You wouldn't have thought I was mad, would you? I'm not, either--that is to say, yes, I am, now and again. There, the door's locked; very well, we'll go away again. But what a mean trick to lock the door, when we want to go in.” Full of bitterness and suspicion, he answered: “Now, you're cheating again. You knew well enough the door was locked.” “Oh, must you always think the worst of me? But why should he lock the door so carefully and have the place all to himself? Yes, I _did_ know it was locked, and that's why I came with you. I dare not. No, Hugo, I won't, I mean it. Oh, are you mad? Come back!” She took his hand again and tried to turn back; they stood struggling a little, for he would not follow. Then in his passion and strength he threw both arms round her and kissed her again and again. And she weakened ever more and more, speaking brokenly between the kisses: “I've never kissed any other man before--never! It's true--I swear it. I've never kissed....” “No, no, no,” he answers impatiently, drawing her step by step the way he will. Outside the summer-house he looses his hold of her a moment, flings himself, one shoulder forward, heavily against the door, and breaks it open for the second time. Then in one stride he is beside her once more. Neither speaks. But even at the door, she checks again--stands clinging to the door-post, and will not move. “No, no, I've never been unfaithful to him yet. I won't; I've never--never....” He draws her to him suddenly, kisses her a full minute, two minutes, a deep, unbroken kiss; she leans back from the waist, her hand slips where it holds, and she gives way.... A white mist gathers before my eyes. So ... they have come to it now. Now he takes her, has his will and joy of her.... A melancholy weariness and rest comes over me. I feel miserable and alone. It is late; my heart has had its day.... Through the white mist comes a leaping figure; it is Ragnhild coming up from among the bushes, running with her tongue thrust out. * * * * *