Married. August Strindberg

after his attack of ague. He couldn’t take milk, but groats he would like to see on his table every evening, every blessed evening of his life, if only she wouldn’t be angry with him.

      And groats never again appeared on his table.

      When they had been married for six weeks, the young wife fell ill. She suffered from headaches and sickness. It could not be anything serious, just a little cold. But this sickness? Had she eaten anything which had disagreed with her? Hadn’t all the copper vessels new coatings of tin? He sent for the doctor. The doctor smiled and said it was all right.

      “What was all right? Oh! Nonsense! It wasn’t possible. How could it have been possible? No, surely, the bed-room paper was to blame. It must contain arsenic. Let us send a piece to the chemist’s at once and have it tested.”

      “Entirely free from arsenic,” reported the chemist.

      “How strange! No arsenic in the wall papers?”

      The young wife was still ill. He consulted a medical book and whispered a question in her ear. “There now! a hot bath!”

      Four weeks later the midwife declared that everything was “as it should be.”

      “As it should be? Well, of course! Only it was somewhat premature!”

      But as it could not, be helped, they were delighted. Fancy, a baby! They would be papa and mama! What should they call him? For, of course, it would be a boy. No doubt, it would. But now she had a serious conversation with her husband! There had been no translating or proof-correcting since their marriage. And his salary alone was not sufficient.

      “Yes, they had given no thought to the morrow. But, dear me, one was young only once! Now, however, there would be a change.”

      On the following morning the assistant called on an old schoolfriend, a registrar, to ask him to stand security for a loan.

      “You see, my dear fellow, when one is about to become a father, one has to consider how to meet increasing expenses.”

      “Quite so, old man,” answered the registrar, “therefore I have been unable to get married. But you are fortunate in having the means.”

      The assistant hesitated to make his request. How could he have the audacity to ask this poor bachelor to help him to provide the expenses for the coming event? This bachelor, who had not the means to found a family of his own? He could not bring himself to do it.

      When he came home to dinner, his wife told him that two gentlemen had called to see him.

      “What did they look like? Were they young? Did they wear eye-glasses? Then there was no doubt, they were two lieutenants, old friends of his whom he had met at Vaxholm.”

      “No, they couldn’t have been lieutenants; they were too old for that.”

      “Then he knew; they were old college friends from Upsala, probably P. who was a lecturer, and O. who was a curate, now. They had come to see how their old pal was shaping as a husband.”

      “No, they didn’t come from Upsala, they came from Stockholm.”

      The maid was called in and cross-examined. She thought the callers had been shabbily dressed and had carried sticks.

      “Sticks! I can’t make out what sort of people they can have been. Well, we’ll know soon enough, as they said they would call again. But to change the subject, I happened to see a basket of hothouse strawberries at a really ridiculous price; it really is absurd! Just imagine, hothouse strawberries at one and sixpence a basket! And at this time of the year!”

      “But, my darling, what is this extravagance to lead to?”

      “It’ll be all right. I have got an order for a translation this very day.”

      “But you are in debt, Lewis?”

      “Trifles! Mere nothings! It’ll be all right when I take up a big loan, presently.”

      “A loan! But that’ll be a new debt!”

      “True! But there’ll be easy terms! Don’t let’s talk business now! Aren’t these strawberries delicious? What? A glass of sherry with them would be tip-top. Don’t you think so? Lina, run round to the stores and fetch a bottle of sherry, the best they have.”

      After his afternoon nap, his wife insisted on a serious conversation.

      “You won’t be angry, dear, will you?”

      “Angry? I! Good heavens, no! Is it about household expenses?”

      “Yes! We owe money at the stores! The butcher is pressing for payment; the man from the livery stables has called for his money; it’s most unpleasant.”

      “Is that all? I shall pay them to the last farthing to-morrow. How dare they worry you about such trifles? They shall be paid to-morrow, but they shall lose a customer. Now, don’t let’s talk about it any more. Come out for a walk. No carriage! Well, we’ll take the car to the Deer Park, it will cheer us up.”

      They went to the Deer Park. They asked for a private room at the restaurant, and people stared at them and whispered.

      “They think we are out on a spree,” he laughed. “What fun! What madness!”

      But his wife did not like it.

      They had a big bill to pay.

      “If only we had stayed at home! We might have bought such a lot of things for the money.”

      Months elapsed. The great event was coming nearer and nearer. A cradle had to be bought and baby-clothes. A number of things were wanted. The young husband was out on business all day long. The price of wheat had risen. Hard times were at hand. He could get no translations, no proof-correcting. Men had become materialists. They didn’t spend money on books, they bought food. What a prosaic period we were living in! Ideals were melting away, one after the other, and ptarmigans were not to be had under two crowns the brace. The livery stables would not provide carriages for nothing for the cab-proprietors had wives and families to support, just as everybody else; at the stores cash had to be paid for goods, Oh! what realists they all were!

      The great day had come at last. It was evening. He must run for the midwife. And while his wife suffered all the pangs of childbirth, he had to go down into the hall and pacify the creditors.

      At last he held a daughter in his arms. His tears fell on the baby, for now he realised his responsibility, a responsibility which he was unable to shoulder. He made new resolutions. But his nerves were unstrung. He was working at a translation which he seemed unable to finish, for he had to be constantly out on business.

      He rushed to his father-in-law, who was staying in town, to bring him the glad news.

      “We have a little daughter!”

      “Well and good,” replied his father-in-law; “can you support a child?”

      “Not at present; for heaven’s sake, help us, father!”

      “I’ll tide you over your present difficulties. I can’t do more. My means are only sufficient to support my own family.”

      The patient required chickens which he bought himself at the market, and wine at six crowns the bottle. It had to be the very best.

      The midwife expected a hundred crowns.

      “Why should we pay her less than others? Hasn’t she just received a cheque for a hundred crowns from the captain?”

      Very soon the young wife was up again. She looked like a girl, as slender as a willow, a little pale, it was true, but the pallor suited her.

      The old man called and had a private conversation with his son-in-law.

      “No more children, for the present,” he said, “or you’ll be ruined.”

      “What language from a father! Aren’t we married! Don’t we love one another? Aren’t we to have a family?”

      “Yes, but not until you can provide for them. It’s all very fine to love one another, but you musn’t forget that you have responsibilities.”

      His