"All … you…."
"Yes, all—for your sake. Oh, let us be content! No one in all the world can ever have all they hoped and wished for. And if we cannot have our wedding night as lovers—let us at least be friends and comrades now."
"Comrades? … yes, in misery," sighed Olof. And they drew together in a close embrace; two suffering creatures, with no refuge but each other.
* * * * *
"Olof," whispered Kyllikki after a while, "we must go to rest now—you are worn out."
Both glanced at the white bridal bed—and each turned in dismay to the other, reading each other's thought.
"Can't we—can't we sleep here on the sofa?—it's nearly morning," said Kyllikki timidly.
Olof grasped her hand and pressed it to his lips without a word.
Kyllikki went to fetch some coverings. As she did so, she caught sight of something lying on the table, and keeping her back turned to Olof, she picked up the thing and put it back in the drawer. Olof's eyes followed her with a grateful glance.
But as she touched the pillows and the white linen she had worked with such hopes and kisses and loving thoughts for this very night, she broke down, and stood with quivering shoulders, fumbling with the bedclothes to hide her emotion.