The Song of the Blood-Red Flower Part 45

Olof strode furiously up and down, then came to a standstill before her. His rage flamed up again, and he set himself to play the part of a judge.

"Defy me, would you?" he shouted, pale with anger. "Do you know what you are? A liar, a perjured hypocrite! Do you know what you have done?

You have cheated me! You have ruined my wedding night, trampled on my happiness and my future--you have shamed me in the eyes of the world.

You are no pure and innocent girl, but a...."

He stopped, breathless, and stood gasping for a moment, then went on brokenly: "But now it is out. Now you shall answer for it all. Do you know a fellow who was here to-night--a wretched little worm with a red rosette in his coat? You know who I mean well enough--deny it if you dare!"

"Yes, I know him well. What of it?"

"Ah, you know him--yes...." He gave a hoa.r.s.e, nervous laugh. "That ghastly little abortion came to me to-night and told me...."

He stopped, on purpose to torture her the more.

"What did he tell you?" asked Kyllikki breathlessly.

"You know well enough ... _that you had given him long ago what should have been mine to-night!_"

He stood enjoying the effect of his words: Kyllikki staggered as if struck--exactly as he had intended.

The girl was trembling in every limb. She felt a loathing for the man before her--and for all his s.e.x. These men, that lied about women, or cried out about what was _theirs_ on their wedding night, raved of _their_ happiness, demanding purity and innocence of others, but not of themselves ... she felt that there could be no peace, no reconciliation between them now, only bitterness and the ruin of all they had hoped for together.

"And what then?" she asked coldly, with lifted head.

"What then?" cried Olof wildly. "What...."

"Yes. Go on. That was only one. Are there no more who have told you the same thing?"

"More? My G.o.d--I could kill you now!"

"Do!" She faced him defiantly, and went on with icy calm: "And how many girls are there who can say the same of you?"

Olof started as if he had been stabbed. He put his hands to his head, and strode violently up and down, muttering wildly: "Kill you--yes, kill you and myself too, kill, kill, kill...."

So he went on for a while, then, flinging himself down on the sofa, he tore open his coat, s.n.a.t.c.hed off the white rosette he wore, and threw it down, crying out in agony: "Why must I suffer like this? Was there ever such a wedding night? It is h.e.l.l, h.e.l.l...!"

Kyllikki stood calmly watching him. She was gradually feeling more sure of herself now. At last she moved towards him.

"Do you want me to love you?" she said quietly. "Or must I hate you and despise you? You listen to the stories of a drunken fool, instead of asking the one person in the world you should trust; you give me no explanation when I ask you. Is it any wonder, after all, that the man should have said what he did--to let you taste for once a drop of the poison you have poured out for who knows how many others? As for him, I knew him when we were children--there was some talk of our being married, years ago. He was five years older than I, and was too young then to know of any harm in an occasional caress. More than that never--though it seems in his drunken wickedness he tried to make out there was."

"Kyllikki, is it true?" cried Olof, springing to his feet.

"It is true. _I_ am still pure, but you--have you the right to ask a pure woman to be your wife?"

"Have I the right...." he began haughtily; but the words died on his lips, and he sank back on the sofa, covering his face with his hands, as if to keep out visions of dread.

"It would have been only just," Kyllikki went on, "if it had been as you believed--yes, it should have been so! And you knew it--and _so_ you stormed and threatened to kill me!"

She paused for a moment; Olof quailed under her glance.

"Pure and innocent," she continued; "yes, that is what you ask, that is your right. But have you for one moment thought of me? I, _who am innocent and pure_--what is given to me in return?"

"You are torturing me," answered Olof, wringing his hands. "I know, I know--and I have thought of you too.... Oh...."

"Thought of me?--yes, perhaps you have, now and again. There was something of it in your letter--you felt it then. And I took it as a prayer for forgiveness, and I could have faced it all as it was--I was thinking more of you than of myself. But now...."

"O G.o.d--this is madness!" cried Olof, his voice choking with sobs.

"Is this the end?... And this night, this night that I have looked forward to in my brightest dreams--this new dawn that was to be ... crushed, crushed, a trampled wreath and veil ... and this is my wedding night!"

He flung himself face downward on the sofa, sobbing violently.

"Your wedding night?" said Kyllikki softly. "_Your_ wedding night? How many such have you not had before? But mine...." Her voice broke. "Oh, mine has never been, and never will be, never...."

She burst into a violent fit of weeping, and sank trembling to a seat.

And the bridal chamber echoed with sounds of woe, with utterances of misery that might have called the very walls to pity.

Olof wakened with a start; moving blindly, he had stumbled against her, and at the touch of her body he flung himself on his knees before her and hid his face in her lap.

"Kill me!" he moaned. "Forgive me and then kill me and make an end."

His pa.s.sionate outburst seemed to calm her; she sat still, and her tears subsided.

"Speak to me!" cried Olof again. "If you cannot forgive me, then kill me, at least--or must I do it myself?"

But Kyllikki made no answer, only bent forward and, slipping her hands beneath his arms, drew him up, softly and slowly, and pressed him closer to her.

A sudden warmth filled him, and he threw his arms round her gratefully, as a child might do.

"Crush me, then, crush me to death, and I have all I asked for!"

But she did not speak, only held him closer. And so they lay in each other's arms, like children, worn out with weeping.

"Olof," said Kyllikki at last, freeing herself, "when you wrote, you said you did not ask me to share joy and happiness, but to work and suffer with you."

"Ay, then," said Olof bitterly. "And even then I still hoped for happiness."

"But, don't you see.... To-night, it is just that. Our first suffering together."

"It has ruined all!"

"Not all--only what we had hoped for to-night. All the rest is as it was."

"No, no, do not try to deceive yourself and me. And for myself--what do I care now? I have deserved it all--but you, you...."

"Say no more, Olof. Let this be ended now and never speak of it again.

See, I have forgotten it already."