...." He gave a hoarse, nervous laugh. "That
ghastly little abortion came to me to-night and told me...."

He stopped, on purpose to torture her the more.

"What did he tell you?" asked Kyllikki breathlessly.

"You know well enough ... _that you had given him long ago what should
have been mine to-night!_"

He stood enjoying the effect of his words: Kyllikki staggered as if
struck--exactly as he had intended.

The girl was trembling in every limb. She felt a loathing for the man
before her--and for all his sex. These men, that lied about women,
or cried out about what was _theirs_ on their wedding night, raved of
_their_ happiness, demanding purity and innocence of others, but
not of themselves ... she felt that there could be no peace, no
reconciliation between them now, only bitterness and the ruin of all
they had hoped for together.

"And what then?" she asked coldly, with lifted head.

"What then?" cried Olof wildly. "What...."

"Yes. Go on. That was only one. Are there no more who have told you
the same thing?"

"More? My God--I could kill you now!"

"Do!" She faced him defiantly, and went on with icy calm: "And how
many girls are there who can say the same of you?"

Olof started as if he had been stabbed. He put his hands to his head,
and strode violently up and down, muttering wildly: "Kill you--yes,
kill you and myself too, kill, kill, kill...."

So he went on for a while, then, flinging himself down on the sofa, he
tore open his coat, snatched off the white rosette he wore, and threw
it down, crying out in agony: "Why must I suffer like this? Was there
ever such a wedding night? It is hell, hell...!"

Kyllikki stood calmly watching him. She was gradually feeling more
sure of herself now. At last she moved towards him.

"Do you want me to love you?" she said quietly. "Or must I hate you
and despise you? You listen to the stories of a drunken fool, instead
of asking the one person in the world you should trust; you give me no
explanation when I ask you. Is it any wonder, after all, that the man
should have said what he did--to let you taste for once a drop of the
poison you have poured out for who knows how many others? As for him,
I knew him when we were children--there was some talk of our being
married, years ago. He was five years older than I, and was too young
then to know of any harm in an occasional caress. More than that
never--though it seems in his drunken wickedness he tried to make o