“Jesus! Have you been brooding about this for fifteen years?” Then he looked up at her—his eyes seemed such a strange pale blue, and his voice was faltering and helpless. “And yet, my Kristin—it doesn’t seem to me that the two of us say unkind or harsh words to each other. . . .”
“No,” said Kristin, “and that’s why it cut even deeper into my heart that time during the Christmas celebration when you railed at me because I had spread my cape over Margret, while women from three counties stood around and listened.”
Erlend did not reply.
“And yet you blame me for the way things went with Margret, but every time I tried to reprimand her with even a single word, she would run to you, and you would tell me sternly to leave the maiden in peace—she was yours and not mine.”
“Blame you? No, I don’t,” Erlend said with difficulty, struggling hard to speak calmly. “If one of our children had been a daughter, then you might have better understood how this matter of my daughter . . . it stabs a father to the very marrow.”
“I thought I showed you this spring that I understood,” said his wife softly. “I only had to think of my own father. . . .”
“All the same, this was much worse,” said Erlend, his voice still calm. “I was an unmarried man. This man . . . was married. I was not bound. At least,” he corrected himself, “I wasn’t bound in such a way that I couldn’t free myself.”
“And yet you didn’t free yourself,” said Kristin. “Don’t you remember how it came about that you were freed?”
Erlend leaped to his feet and slapped her face. Then he stood staring at her in horror. A red patch appeared on her white cheek, but she sat rigid and motionless, her eyes hard. The child began to cry in fright; she rocked him gently in her arms, hushing him.
“That . . . was a vile thing to say, Kristin,” said her husband uncertainly.
“The last time you struck me,” she answered in a low voice, “I was carrying your child under my heart. Now you hit me as I hold your son on my lap.”
“Yes, we keep having all these children,” he shouted impatiently.
They both fell silent. Erlend began swiftly pacing back and forth. She carried the child over to the alcove and put him on the bed; when she reappeared in the alcove doorway, he stopped in front of her.
“I . . . I shouldn’t have struck you, my Kristin. I wish I hadn’t done it. I’ll probably regret it for as long as I regretted it the first time. But you . . . you’ve told me before that you think I forget things too quickly. But you never forget—not a single injustice I might have done you. I’ve tried . . . tried to be a good husband to you, but you don’t seem to think that worth remembering. You . . . you’re so beautiful, Kristin . . .” He gazed after her as she walked past him.
Oh, his wife’s quiet and dignified bearing was as lovely as the willowy grace of the young maiden had been; she was wider in the bosom and hips, but she was also taller. She held herself erect, and her neck bore the small, round head as proudly and beautifully as ever. Her pale, remote face with the dark-gray eyes stirred and excited him as much as her round, rosy child’s face had stirred and excited his restless soul with its wondrous calm. He went over and took her hand.
“For me, Kristin, you will always be the most beautiful of women, and the most dear.”
She allowed him to hold her hand but didn’t squeeze his in return. Then he flung it aside; rage overcame him once again.
“You say I’ve forgotten. That may not always be the worst of sins. I’ve never pretended to be a pious man, but I remember what I learned from Sira Jon when I was a child, and God’s servants have reminded me of it since. It’s a sin to brood over and dwell on the sins we have confessed to the priest and repented before God, receiving His forgiveness through the hand and the words of the priest. And it’s not out of piety, Kristin, that you’re constantly tearing open these old sins of ours—you want to hold the knife to my throat every time I oppose you in some way.”
He walked away and then came back.
“Domineering . . . God knows that I love you, Kristin, even though I can see how domineering you are, and you’ve never forgiven me for the injustice I did to you or for luring you astray. I’ve tolerated a great deal from you, Kristin, but I will no longer tolerate the fact that I can never have peace from these old misfortunes, nor that you speak to me as if I were your thrall.”