The more tired Peter became the more distinctly did he feel how the chill of old Kristin’s hand passed through his body. And Frida dissolved and disappeared. But Brundin remained. He pursued Peter deep into the night’s sleep.
His sleep was like that of one in a besieged fortress, where one hears the shots shattering bit by bit the walls that save one from destruction.
Yes, this was the story of Peter the Watch-dog.
We must not forget that this thin and anxious figure was the embryo of the future coarse and brutal Peter the Boss.
V
FEAR
Excited and curious, Frida thrust her head into the girls’ room:
“If you please, Miss Hedvig,—you ought to let me make your bed on a day like this.”
Hedvig was leaning over her narrow bed with her black hair full of curling papers. She would soon be fifteen years old now. Her breasts were already filling out beneath her bodice. Her lips were very red, and looked almost skinless, in her long pale face.