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drove up to the house. I saw her enter the room,
but I could not feel her to be my mother, Gösta
Berling. I greeted her as a stranger, and asked her
to sit down and dine with us.
“She tried to address me as her daughter, but I
told her she was mistaken, my parents were both
dead, they had died on my wedding-day.
“And she entered into the comedy. She was seventy,
and had driven a hundred and forty miles
in three days, but she sat down to her dinner
without further ceremony. She was a wonderfully strong
woman.
“She remarked that it was unfortunate that I
should have experienced such a loss on my
wedding-day.
“‘The greater misfortune was,’ I replied, ‘that
my parents had not died a day earlier; then the
wedding would never have come off.’
“‘My lady is not happy in her marriage, then?’
“‘Yes,’ I answered, ‘I’m happy now. I am happy
in obeying the will of my dear parents.’
“She asked me if it was their will that I should
bring shame upon myself and upon them in deceiving
my husband. No honor was brought to them by
my making myself the talk of the country-side.
“‘They made their bed, and they must lie on it,’
I replied. ‘And, by the way, the strange lady might
as well understand that I allowed no one to defame
my father’s daughter.’
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