But it is a sin and a shame for the Captain,
and Fruen as well, to be so dead-weary of each other, you'd never think.
If they do say a word to each other, it's looking to the other side all
the time, and hardly opening their lips. They barely speak at all, except
to other people month after month the same. And all summer the Captain's
out on manoeuvres, and never comes home to see how his wife and the place
are getting on. "No, they've no children; that's the trouble," says Lars.
Emma comes out and joins us. She looks well and handsome still, and I tell
her so.
"Emma?" says Lars. "Ay, well, she's none so bad. But she's for ever having
children, the wretch!" and, pouring out a drink from his half-bottle, he
forces her to drink it off. Now Emma presses us to come in; we might just
as well be sitting down indoors as standing about out here.
"Oh, it's summer now!" says Lars, evidently none so anxious to have me in.
Then, when I set off for home, he walks down again with me a bit of the
way, showing me where he's dug and drained and fenced about his bit of
land.
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