Two days later the doctor called to see one of the children. Seated in my room, I overheard a more than strange conversation between him and my wife. They were laughing and whispering.
Presently they entered my room, the smile still on their lips. Plunged in sinister speculations, my mind kept wandering from the subject of our conversation; by and by it drifted to women patients.
"You thoroughly understand women's complaints, don't you, old boy?" I said.
Marie looked at me. She was furious. There was so much hatred blazing in her eyes that I felt a cold thrill running down my back.
When the doctor had left, she turned on me furiously.
"Prostitute!" I flung the word into her face. It escaped my lips against my will, giving expression to an intuitive flash which I had not had time to analyse. The insult came home to me and oppressed me. My eyes fell on the children, and with a contrite heart I apologised.
But she remained angry, so angry that nothing would soften her.
To make amends for the great injustice which I had done her, and to some extent, also, influenced by her hatred, I conceived the idea of arranging for her a pleasure trip to Finland in the shape of a theatrical tour, extending over several weeks.
I started negotiations with theatrical managers, succeeded in coming to terms, and raised the money.
She went to Finland, where she won patriotic victories and a number of laurel wreaths.