Marjon reflected a while, and then said:
"But that is no reason for you to be hard toward me, Jo. I am not low, like her."
Johannes was silent. Then she resumed:
"But then I know what, Jo: you may stay here. But now I shall say 'No foolishness,' and remain unyielding until you shall have forgotten that ugly woman. Will that do?"
"Yes, Marjon," replied Johannes. Then a pillow and some covering were given him, and he lay on the hard floor of the little kitchen the entire night. And now and then, as one of them became aware that the other was still awake, they would talk together, softly, about their poor friend, each trying to comfort the other.
And thus it happened, as I told you it would, that, before the ending of the book, they became husband and wife.
But when Johannes forgot the ugly, dark woman Marjon's sister I do not tell you; for that does not concern others.
XXIII
The humble little kitchen, in the first pale, glimmering light that passed through the unwashed, uncurtained window; two rush-bottomed chairs; the unpainted table with the oil-lamp and the untidy coffee-set; Marjon's narrow iron bed, which quaked if she merely stirred; her breathing, now deep and regular, for at last she slept; the first chirping of the sparrows out-of-doors; continually before Johannes' mental vision the pale face of his kind Brother, befouled with blood and ashes; in his ears the powerful voice resounding through the arches of the church; the howling of the mob; and then—his own body, stiff and sore, on the hard, wooden boards....