"He! You—you…." The words were flung at him like a hand reaching for his throat. "Not a step till you've answered me, d'you hear! Was it that was in your mind?"
The young man hesitated. But a little time since he had felt himself bowed down with shame, ready to make any reparation; now, in a moment, all seemed changed, he felt he must hit back, must strike one blow for all that had been growing and seething within him in secret these last few days. He turned swiftly, and answered proudly and resolutely, with lifted head:
"No! But to marry her—that was in my mind."
The old man's features set in a scornful sneer at the word. But the look on his son's face made him hesitate, uncertain how to proceed.
"Marry her?" He bent forward in his seat, as if doubting whether he had heard aright.
"Yes!" came the answer, more firmly than before.
And having spoken, Olof felt he must avenge the insult to himself and to the girl, must strike once more with the weapon he had seen could bite so keenly and so deep.
"And marry her I will!" The words fell like the snap of a lock.
"Boy—you dare!" It was the roar of a wounded beast. Furiously the old man sprang to the door, snatching up a stick as he rose, seized the boy by the collar, and flung him to his knees on the floor, making the beams shake. It was all done in a moment. "You dare!" he cried again, raising his stick.
Then suddenly his arm dropped as if broken, and the old man was hurled across the room as a ball is thrown, to fall with a crash against the opposite wall.