Lonely and miserable, he made friends with the inspector, a young man, addicted to wine and cards. He sought his company and spent the evenings in his room; he went to bed late, as late as possible.
On coming home one night, he found his wife still awake and waiting for him.
“Where have you been?” she asked sharply.
“That’s my business,” he replied.
“To be married and have no husband is anything but pleasant,” she rejoined. “If we had a child, at least!”
“It isn’t my fault that we haven’t!”
“It isn’t mine!”
A quarrel arose as to whose fault it was, and the quarrel lasted for two years.
As both of them were too obstinate to take medical advice, the usual thing happened. The husband cut a ridiculous figure, and the wife a tragic one. He was told that a childless woman was sacred because, for some reason or other, “God’s” curse rested on her. That “God” could also stoop to curse a man was beyond the women’s comprehension.
But Frithiof had no doubt that a curse rested on him for his life was dreary and unhealthy. Nature has created two sexes, which are now friends, now enemies. He had met the enemy, an overwhelming enemy.