Peter wagged his head, filled with paternal pride:
“The lad is no fool. I needn’t be ashamed of him. I am damned if I don’t envy you when I think of all the money you will get.”
Now Hedvig’s voice was suddenly heard again from the corner:
“You should never have taken up with that woman, Peter. You should never have taken up with that woman.”
Stellan grew furious. His thin bony hands trembled and his voice broke. The brutality of the barrack-room broke through his outer shell. It was terrible to see the aristocratic mask fall so suddenly:
“Shut up, you old goat!” he shouted to Hedvig. Then he held his clenched fist before Bernhard’s face:
“And you, you damned young scoundrel, be off in less than no time, or the police will fetch you! Get out now!”
But Bernhard did not get out at all. With this tone he was familiar. It frightened him less than the icy authority before. He jumped closer to the bed and lowered his head between his shoulders ready for a grip at the throat or a blow at the back of the head. He was evidently prepared for war as one understood it amongst the youth of Majängen.
Peter rose. Yes, he rose up in bed. His pale puffy face was covered by a broad grin:
“Bravo,” he grunted. “This is better than I thought it would be. I am damned if I am not beginning to feel quite well again.”