At last the summons was read and the judge began his questions. When Frida once began to speak, she could not stop, but flung herself with such a primitive force and such a naïve matter-of-factness into the dismal love story that the judge at once thought it wise to order the hall to be cleared.
Peter grinned with malicious pleasure as the angrily muttering inhabitants of Majängen shuffled out.
When Frida had finished, Peter rose, looked at the wall, and stoutly denied everything.
Then a witness was called. Peter suddenly recognized with a certain discomfort the porter at Stellan’s house. Well, it appeared that he had never seen them together, but only believed he had noticed that they both stayed on the second floor. Peter was calm again. He had won worse cases. Then the judge showed him a love letter signed “Bull Elk,” on the reverse side of which there appeared a part of the Selambshof receipt stamp. Peter boldly denied everything except the stamp. But he began to feel rather glum.
The parties were dismissed during the deliberations of the Court. Frida sat in the midst of a crowd of women and suckled the baby. But Peter went out and patted old “Interest.” He stood there stroking and stroking and found it difficult to look up. He felt hate all round him like something prickly. He no longer felt safe. He would probably have to resort to ... the last ...
After a long delay all were admitted into the Court again. It was black with people but absolutely silent. The oath was taken.
All eyes were fastened on Peter the Boss. He seemed to shrink and grow smaller as he stood there. Now he looked like an old bent and grey peasant. Would he do what peasants had been accustomed to do so often before in similar cases?
Peter stepped slowly up to the table. He felt just as if he were walking in a vacuum. He seemed to be paralysed in the arm when he wanted to place his hand on the Bible, the greasy old court Bible, which had seen so many things. He could not help glancing at Frida. She also had risen and taken a step towards the table. She looked at him with an expression in which hatred and anxiety mingled with a strange cold curiosity. The child also stared at him with vacant black eyes. And a little hand moved with awkward, blind jerks. Peter suddenly thought of a newborn, trembling young fox which he had once pulled out of its lair and killed with the butt end of his gun. He felt queer, sick. He was afraid ... afraid.... For a moment he let his hand fall....
The judge fixed him with his eye:
“Well, what’s the matter? Can’t you take the oath?”