“Naturally. Free love is much better, but she had to marry. She is going to give concerts in Christiania in the autumn and try to get pupils. She could not do it, having the child, unless she had been married.”
“Perhaps not, but it is hateful all the same. I have no sympathy with free love, if it means that people should take up with each other although they presume they will tire of one another. It seems to me that even to break an ordinary platonic engagement is a slight stain on the one who breaks it. But if one has been unfortunate enough to make a mistake, and then goes through the marriage ceremony for the sake of what people say, it is a blasphemy to stand there and make a promise that one has agreed beforehand not to keep.”
By dawn the visitors left. Heggen stayed a second after the others had gone. Jenny opened the balcony doors to let out the smoke. The sky was grey, with a pale, reddish light appearing above the housetops. Heggen went up to her:
“Thanks so much. We’ve had a pleasant Christmas. What are you thinking of?”
“That it is Christmas morning. I wonder if they got my parcel at home in time.”
“I daresay they did. You sent it on the eleventh, didn’t you?”
“I did. It was always so nice on Christmas morning to go in and look at the tree and the presents in daylight—but I was young then,” she added, smiling. “They say there’s been lots of snow this winter. I suppose the children are tobogganing in the mountains today.”
“Yes, probably,” said Heggen. “You are getting cold. Good-night, and thanks again.”
“Good-night, and a happy Christmas to you, Gunnar.”