The Song of the Blood-Red Flower Part 50

Olof scans her in silence from head to foot--surely he should know her?--and yet, who can she be...? He _will_ not recognise her.

"Aha! You look surprised! Don't know me--don't you? Your own darling!'" She laughs harshly, contemptuously.

"Or perhaps you have seen so many others since--rowans and berries and flowers--that you can't, remember one from another?"

Olof's hand trembles, and his face turns white as the sleeves of his shirt.

The woman laughs again boldly, and flings herself on the sofa in a careless pose.

"Well, here we are again--staring at each other--what? Didn't use to stare that way, did we? What do you say?"

Olof has fallen into a seat; he looks at her, but makes no answer.

"And your princess--is she at home, may I ask?"

"No!" Olof answers with an angry ring in his voice.

The woman marks it, and draws herself up, as if in answer to a challenge.

"Good! I've no business with her. But I've something to say to you.

And maybe it's best for her she's away. She'd not be over pleased to see me, I fancy." The words shot like venom from her tongue--a sting from laughing lips.

Her callousness seems to freeze him--while his blood boils at the insult to Kyllikki. He is about to speak: "Say what you will, but not an evil word of her!"--when the woman goes on:

"Well, it's no good sitting here solemn as an owl! I just thought I'd look you up--it's a long time since we met, isn't it? Let's have a little talk together--talk of love, for instance. I've learned a deal about that myself since the old days."

Olof was all ice now--the bold, scornful look in her eyes, and her short, bitter laugh froze every kindlier feeling in him.

Then suddenly the scornful smile vanishes from her face.

"Curse you all!" she cries wildly. "Oh, I know what men are now!" She stamps her foot violently. "Beasts--beasts, every one of you--only that some wear horns and others not, and it makes but little difference after all....

"Ay, you may stare! You're one of them yourself--though maybe just so much above the ruck of them that I'm willing to waste words on you.

Listen to me!" She springs to her feet and moves towards him. "I hate you and despise you every one. Oh, I could tear the eyes out of every man on this earth--and yours first of all!"

A wild hatred flames in her big brown eyes, her face is contorted with pa.s.sion; she is more like a fury than a human being.

"And as for your love ..." she went on, flinging herself down on the sofa once more. "Ay, you can twitter about it all so prettily, can't you?--till you've tempted us so near that the beast in you can grab us with its claws! Love--who is it you love? Shall I tell you? 'Tis _yourselves_! You beasts! We're just pretty dolls, and sweet little pets to be played with, aren't we? Until you fall on us with your wolfish l.u.s.t ... 'tis all you think or care for--just that!"

She spoke with such intensity of feeling that Olof never thought of saying a word in defence--he felt as if he were being lashed and beaten--violently, yet no worse than he deserved.

"Well, why don't you say something? Aren't you going to stand up for your s.e.x? Why don't you turn me out, eh? Fool--like the rest of you!

What is it you offer us, tell me that? Your bodies! And what else?

Your bodies again--ugh! And sweet words enough as long as you want us; but as soon as you've had your fill--you turn over on the other side and only want to sleep in peace...."

She gave him one long scornful glance, and sat silent for a moment, as if waiting for him to speak.

"Well--what are you sitting there writhing about for like a sick cat?

What's the matter now? Oh, you're married, aren't you?--living in the state of holy matrimony ... take a wife and cleave to her ... one flesh, and all the rest of it ... flesh! Ugh! Holy matrimony indeed!

As if that could hide the filth and misery of it all! No! Beasts glaring over the fence at what you want--and when it pleases you to break it down, why not? And your wives--shall I tell you what they are to you--what they know they are? The same as we others, no more ...

your...."

A dark flush rose to Olof's cheeks, and he broke in violently:

"You ... you...."

"Oh yes, I'm coa.r.s.e and vulgar and all the rest of it, yes, I know.

But what about you men? You're worse than all! Marriage--it's all very well for the children. And even that.... Wasn't it the men that wanted the State to take over all children, what? A pretty thought--leave your young behind you where you please--and the State to look after them. Make love free and beautiful. Oh yes. And we're to have all the pain and trouble--and the State to pay--n.o.ble and generous, aren't you? What other beast gave you that grand idea, I wonder? The dogs that run in the streets...?"

Olof sat motionless, watching her pa.s.sionate outburst as if fascinated. And beneath the ghastly mask he seemed to see the face of a young, innocent girl, with childish, trusting eyes, and....

"No, it's no good your trying that," the woman broke in. "I know what you're thinking of now. You hate me, loathe me, as I am now. And you're asking yourself if it really can be the same little bit of a child that used to sit on your knee and look up to you as if you were G.o.d Himself! No--I'm not--there's nothing left but bitterness. Can't you understand? Oh, we're coa.r.s.e and sour and harsh and all the rest--all that you've made us. But I'll tell you what we are besides--ourselves, _ourselves_, for all that!"

She rose up from the sofa, and crossing the room, sat down on a chair close to where Olof was seated. Then, lowering her voice a little, she went on, as if striving with words and look to penetrate his soul:

"We are women--do you know what that means? And we long for love--all of us, good or bad--or, no, there is neither good nor bad among us, we are alike. We long for you, and for love. But how? Ah, you should know! Answer me, as you would to G.o.d Himself: _of all the women you have known, has any one of them ever craved your body_? Answer, and speak the truth!"

"No--no ... it is true!" stammered Olof confusedly.

"Good that you can be honest at least. And that is just what makes the gulf between us. For you, the body is all and everything, but not for us. We _can_ feel the same desire, perhaps--after you have taught us.

But the thing we long for in our innermost heart--you never give us. You give us moments of intoxication, no more. And we are foolish enough to trust you. We are cheated of our due, but we hope on; we come to you and beg and pray for it, until at last we realise that you _can_ give us nothing but what in itself, by itself, only fills us with loathing...."

Olof breathed hard, as in a moment's respite at the stake, with the lash still threatening above his head.

"Yes, that is your way. You take us--but why will you never take us wholly? You give us money, or fine clothes, a wedding ring even--but never yourselves, never the thing we longed for in you from the first.

You look on love as a pastime only; for us, it is life itself. But you never understand, only wash your hands of it all, and go your own ways self-satisfied as ever."

Olof was ashy pale and his eyelids quivered nervously.

The woman's face had lost its scornful look, the hardness of her features had relaxed. She was silent a moment, and when she spoke again, seemed altogether changed. She spoke softly and gently, with a tremor in her voice.

"Even you, Olof, even you do not understand. I know what you are thinking now. You ask, what right have I to reproach you, seeing that I was never yours as--as the others were? It is true, but for all that you were more closely bound to me, with a deeper tie, than with the others. What do I care for them? They do not matter--it is nothing to me if they ever existed or not. But you and I--we were united, though perhaps you cannot understand.... Olof! When I sat close to you, in your arms, I felt that my blood belonged to you, and that feeling I have never altogether lost. It is you I have been seeking through all these years--you, and something to still the longing you set to grow in my soul. Men fondled me with coa.r.s.e hands, and had their will of me--and I thought of _your_ caresses; it was with you, with you I sinned!"

The sweat stood out in beads on Olof's brow--the torture was almost more than he could bear. "I know, I know!" he would have said. "Say no more--I know it all!" But he could not frame a single word.

She moved nearer, watching him closely.

And slipping to the floor beside him, she clasped his knees.

"Olof--don't look like that!" she cried. "Don't you see, it is not you alone I mean. Tear out your eyes--no, no, I didn't mean it, Olof! Oh, I am mad--we are all mad, we have sinned.... Do not hate me, do not send me away. I am worthless now, I know, but it was you I loved, Olof, you and no other."

Olof writhed in horror, as if all his past had come upon him suddenly like a monster, a serpent that was crushing him in its toils.

"No, let me stay a little yet, do not send me away. Only a moment, Olof, and I will go. No, I will not reproach you--you did not know me then. And I knew nothing--how should we have known?"

She was silent for a moment, watching his face. Then she went on:

"Tell me one thing--those others--have any of them come to you--since?