“All the same he would not have been a socialist if he had been born rich—but still a true proletarian.”
“Are you sure you would have been a socialist yourself,” said Cesca, “if you had been born a count, for instance?”
“Mr. Heggen is a count,” said Hjerrild, laughing, “of many airy castles.”
Heggen sat silent for a minute. “I have never felt I was born poor,” he said, speaking as if to himself.
“As to Hermann’s love for children,” said Hjerrild, “there was not much of it for his own child. And the way he treated his wife was disgraceful. He begged and pleaded till he got her, but when she was going to have the baby, she had to beg and implore him to marry her.”
“Have they got a little boy?” whispered Francesca.
“Yes; he arrived after they had been married six weeks, just the day I left Berlin. When they had been married a month Hermann left her and went to Dresden. I don’t see why they did not marry before, as they had agreed to divorce anyhow. She wanted it.”
“How disgraceful,” said Jenny, who had been listening to the conversation. “To marry with the intention to divorce!”
“Well,” said Hjerrild, smiling. “When people know each other in and out, and know they cannot get on, what else is there to do?”
“Not marry at all, of course.”