Christine. I know, and I feel it very deeply. But when your
mother learns of our marriage, she will forgive you and put her
curse on me. Whose burden will then be the heavier? However, it
doesn't matter, because it's borne for your sake. And this much
I know: that terrible struggles are awaiting you; that daring
thoughts are growing in your mind; and that I can never share
your struggle, never help you with advice, never defend you
against those that vilify you--but still I must look on, and
through it all I must go on living in my own little world,
employing myself with petty things which you do not appreciate,
but would miss if they were not attended to. Olof, I cannot
weep with you, so you must help me to make you smile with me.
Come down from those heights which I cannot attain. Leave your
battles on the hilltops and return some time to our home. As I
cannot ascend to you, you must descend to me for a moment.
Forgive me, Olof, if I talk childishly! I know that you are a man
sent by the Lord, and I have felt the blessing with which your
words are fraught. But you are more than that--you are a man, and
you are my husband--or at least ought to be. You won't fall from
your exalted place if you put aside your solemn speech now and
then and let the clouds pass from your forehead. You are not too
great, are you, to look at a flower or listen to a bird? I put
the flowers on your table, Olof, in order that they might rest
your eyes--and you ordered the maid to take them out because they
gave you a headache. I tried to cheer the lonely silence of your
work by bringing the birds--whose song you call screaming. I
asked you to come to dinner a while ago--you hadn't time. I
wanted to talk to you--you hadn't time. You despise this little
corner of reality--and yet that is what you have set aside for
me. You don't want to lift me up to you--but try at least not to