He looked at her quietly and sadly and her defiance was broken then and there:
“How strangely you say that,” she said. “Cordt....”
Then she laid her head on his knee again and they were silent for a time. Then she said:
“I remember the evening when I was going to my first grown-up ball. A lady came to dress my hair. I was so solemn and the lady so talkative. She told me that I was pretty and that I was sure to be married soon; therefore I must lose no time and dance as much as I could; for, once a girl was married, she had to give up dancing. I asked her what she meant and said that I knew many married women who danced. Then she told me that that was true enough and that there were many fine ladies who did, but then they danced their children dead and therefore it was a great sin.”
He moved in his chair. She raised her head and laid it on his knee again:
“Do you believe that we can dance our children dead, Cordt?”
He did not reply, but stroked her cheek. But she pushed his hand away and turned her face and looked at him:
“Do you believe it, Cordt?”
He nodded.
Then Fru Adelheid rose awkwardly from the floor and stood before him. Slowly, she raised her hands and pressed them against her temples.