He looked at Finn and remembered how he had loved his mother.
It was her eyes, but more restful-looking; her mouth, but paler and tired, as though it had tried a thousand times to say something which it never could. He had her slender waist and he was taller than Cordt, but carried his height like a burden. Then he also had Fru Adelheid’s pale cheeks and forehead, but Cordt’s hair, only thicker still and blacker.
“Finn,” said Cordt and laid his hands on his shoulders.
Finn started and could not look at him. But Cordt took him under the chin and lifted his head and looked with a sad smile into his frightened eyes:
“There is only one thing left to tell you, Finn.... Fru Adelheid did not take a lover.”
His smile widened when he saw his son’s sudden and great joy; and he drew him to him and kissed him.
But then he suddenly left him and sat down somewhere in the room, with his back to him. Finn followed him and stood by him for a while and thought kindly and fondly of him and could find nothing to say.
The thoughts rushed through Cordt’s head.
Now that he had lived through it all anew, the scab broke which the silence of many years had placed upon the wound in his will. His eyes grew hard and angry, he wanted to speak as he used to speak when he fought his hopeless fight for Fru Adelheid.
But then his glance fell upon Finn.