The next morning, at seven o’clock, Ella sat dressed and alone, in a room next to their bedroom, the door of which stood open.  From it she could hear her husband’s snores.  She sat there still and deadly pale, without tears and without feeling.  She divided the occurrences into two—­what had happened and what had been said; what had been said and what had happened:  she did not know which was the worst.  This man’s longing had been inflamed by deadly hate.  From the time that she had said No! he had made it the object of his life to force her to say Yes!  He told her that she should pay for having nearly made him ridiculous a third time.  She should pay for it all—­she, who had dared to make insulting conditions.  He would break the neck of her conditions like a shrimp.  Let her try to refuse to go on board with him, or attempt to control anything herself.

Then that which had happened.  A fly caught in a spider’s web, that was what she thought of.

But had she not experienced such a feeling once before?  O God, the night of the ball!  She had a vague feeling that that night had fore-doomed her to this; but she could not make it clear to herself.  On the other hand, she asked herself if what we fail in has not a greater influence on our lives than that which we succeed in.

Three or four hours after this, Hjalmar Olsen sat at the breakfast-table; he was dull and silent, but perfectly polite, as though nothing had happened.  Perhaps he had been too drunk to be quite accountable, or it might be that his politeness was calculated with the hope of inducing her to come with him and visit his ship.  He asked her to do so, as he left the table, but neither promises nor threats could induce her to go on board even for the shortest time.  Her terror saved her.

Some months later an announcement appeared in the papers that she wished to take pupils both for the piano and book-keeping.  She was once more living in her own little house in her native town.  She was at this time enciente.

One day an old friend of Aksel Aaroe’s came to see her; he was to remember Aaroe very kindly to her, and to congratulate her on her marriage.  She controlled her rising emotion, and asked quietly how he was getting on.  Most wonderfully; he was still living with the same old man, to whom, by degrees, he had entirely devoted himself.  This was the very thing for Aaroe:  it suited him to devote himself completely to one person.  He had gone through a course of treatment for his inherited failing and believed himself to be cured.

“And how is Fru Holmbo?” asked Ella.  She was frightened when she had said it, but she felt an intense bitterness which would break out.  She had noticed how thin and pale Fru Holmbo looked—­she evidently missed Aaroe, and that was too much!

The friend smiled:  “Oh! have you heard that silly rumour?  No, Aksel Aaroe was only the medium between her and the man to whom she was secretly attached.  The two friends had lived together abroad.  Some months ago there had been a talk about a business journey to Copenhagen, and Fru Holmbo went there also.  But there had undoubtedly been something between them for a long time.”