Everybody politely applauded the group. Only Levy was silent. He stood alone and stared obstinately at the famous picture, which nevertheless was tame compared with the geometrical excesses of some later schools.
“Hm ... frost bites,” he mumbled in a low voice. “Perhaps there is something in the frost bites all the same....”
His voice sounded quite impersonal, as if he had not known what he was saying.
Laura carried off the boy quickly. She did not stop in the nursery. From there they might hear. No, she went all the way to her own bedroom. There she let loose her anger. There she suddenly began to pinch and beat the disobedient child who had torn away the veil, betrayed, and exposed her. It was as if she had wished to take her revenge for all the annoyance, and all the worries he had caused her from the moment that she was first conscious of his presence in her womb. It was as if she wished to take her revenge for all the memories from Ekbacken, which seemed to her unspeakably oppressive and outworn.
“You were told to stay in bed!” she panted. “Why don’t you obey? I shall smack you if you don’t obey!”
Georg did not scream. He shrank under the blows and glanced horrified at his mother. He did not understand. Oh, how the pretty rings hurt when she beat him. And just now she had smiled and kissed him. He did not understand. His little soul was full to the brim with strange and ghastly questions....
The memory of this terrible contrast was to remain with him all his life.
Laura suddenly felt ashamed and stopped beating him. She felt a sort of gratitude that he did not scream, and she led him back to his bed as if nothing had happened.
“There, go to sleep now,” she said in a tone of indifference.
And then she went back with her most charming smile to her guests.