"But you go—even against your will. And they come towards you smiling. I am all alone—and they are so many. And they must win—for I can give no more than one woman can. But they are for ever whispering to you of what a woman can give but once in her life—each in her own way…."
"Kyllikki!" Olof broke in imploringly.
But she went on unheeding, pouring out her words like a stream in flood-time.
"And they hate me because I thought to keep you for myself alone. And while you lie in my arms, they come smiling and whispering and thread their arms between us and offer you their lips…."
"Kyllikki!" he cried again, and grasped at her hand like a drowning man.
"And then—then it is no longer me you hold in your arms, but those others; not my lips, but theirs, you kiss…." She tore her hand away, and broke out weeping anew.
Olof sat as if turned to stone. The thing was said—it was as if a secret curse was for ever dogging his footsteps, and spreading poison all around.
Kyllikki's despair gathered and grew like an avalanche. What a blind self-deceit their life had been! How they had hoped and dreamed—with a gulf of naked hopelessness on every side!
"If only I had—what I have hoped for these last two years, then I could bear it all. For that—none could rob me of that! But now—I know why it has not come. And now there is no hope even of that!"
And she groaned aloud.