"Thanks—Why are you trembling?" she asked.
"Oh—I suppose because I have held the tiller so long—Hm. Listen, Hanka, I have a pleasant surprise for you! You have asked me a number of times to consent to a divorce; I have decided in God's name to do what you ask—You understand, I am not going to oppose you any more."
She could hardly believe her ears. Did he agree to a divorce? She gazed at him; he was deathly pale, his eyes were lowered. They were standing opposite each other, the large desk between them.
He continued:
"Circumstances are different now—My big speculation has failed; even if I am not a bankrupt this moment, I am a poor man. I may avoid closing up shop, but that will be all. Anyway, I shall not be able to keep up this mode of life. And, this being so, I feel that I have no right to interfere with your plans and desires any longer."
His words reached her as from afar. For a moment she felt a vague sensation of happiness—she was free; she would escape the yoke that had become oppressive; she would be a girl once more! Hanka Lange—imagine, only Hanka Lange! And when she realised that her husband was almost a bankrupt it did not greatly upset her; he had said he might not be forced to shut down. Of course, he was not wealthy, but neither was he a beggar; it might have been a great deal worse.
"Is that so?" she said simply; "is that so?"
Pause. Tidemand had regained his composure; he stood again as he had stood aboard the yacht; one could almost see the tiller in his hand. His eyes were on her. She had not said no; her intentions were evidently not shaken. Well, he had hardly expected that they would be.
He said:
"Well, that was all I wanted to tell you."