. It is mother I am angry with! It is mother I cannot have patience
with!

Riis. Really, Svava--!

Svava. Because if there has been one point on which mother and I have
been agreed, it has been on the subject of the unprincipled way men
prepare themselves for marriage, and the sort of marriages that are the
result. We have watched the course of it, mother and I, for many years;
and we had come to one and the same conclusion, that it is _before_
marriage that a marriage is marred. But when, the other day, mother
began to turn round--

Mrs. Riis. No, you have no right to say that! I am convinced that Alfred
is as honourable--

Svava. But when, the other day, mother began to turn round--well, I
could not have been more amazed if some one had come in and told me they
had met her out in the street when she was actually sitting here talking
to me.

Mrs. Riis. I only ask you to take time to consider! I am not
contradicting you!

Svava. Oh, let me speak now! Let me give you just one instance. One day,
before I was really grown up, I came running into this room from the
park. We had just bought the property, and I was so happy. Mother was
standing over there leaning against the door and crying. It was a lovely
summer's day. "Why are you crying, mother?" I said. For some time
she seemed as if she did not see me. "Why are you crying, mother?" I
repeated, and went nearer to her, but did not like to touch her. She
turned away from me, and walked up and down once or twice. Then she came
to me. "My child," she said, drawing me to her, "never give in to what
is not good and pure, on any account whatever! It is so cowardly, and
one repents it so bitterly; it means perpetually giving in, more and
more and more." I do not know what she referred to, and I have never
asked. But no one can imagine what an effect it all had on me--the
beautiful summer day, and mother crying, and the heartfelt tones of her
voice! I cannot give in; do not ask me to. Everything that made marriage
seem beautiful to me is gone--my faith, my feeling of security--all
gone! No, no, no! I can never begin with that, and it is wicked of you
to want to make me believe I can. After such a disillusionment and such
a humiliation? No! I would rather never be married--even it I have to go
away from here. I daresay I shall find something to fill my life; it is
only for the moment that I am so helpless. And anything is better
than to fill it with what is unclean. If I d