If, even at this instant, the father had remembered his love rather than his dignity, had thought of the past and its happy years, rather than of the blinding, swollen present; or, on the other side, if the son had but submitted if only for an hour, and obeyed in order that he might rule later--the whole course might have run aright, and no hearts have been broken and no blood shed.

But neither would yield.

There was the fierce northern obstinacy in them both; the gentle birth sharpened its edge; the defiant refusal of the son, the wounding contempt of the father not for his son only, but for his son's love--these things inflamed the hearts of both to madness.

The father seized his ultimate right, and struck his son across the face.
Then the son answered by his only weapon.
For a sensible pause he stood there, his fresh face paled to chalkiness, except where the print of five fingers slowly reddened.

Then he made a courteous little gesture, as if to invite his father to sit down; and as the other did so, slowly and shaking all over, struck at him by careful and calculated words, delivered with a stilted and pompous air: "You have beaten me, sir; so, of course, I obey.