“When we placed ourselves in the chaise at home there, what did we think? What did we talk about on the way? About how we would deceive him there. ‘You must be brave, Anne-Marie,’ you said. ‘And you must be crafty, Maurits,’ I said. We thought only of ingratiating ourselves. We wished to have much and we wished to give nothing except hypocrisy. It was not our intention to say: ‘Help us, because we are poor and care for one another,’ but we were to flatter and fawn until Uncle was charmed by me or by you; that was our intention. But we meant to give nothing in return; neither love nor respect nor even gratitude. And why did you not come alone, why must I come too? You wished to show me to him; you wished me to—to—” Uncle Theodore rises when he sees Maurits raise his hand against her. For now he has finished counting, and follows what is passing with his heart swelling with hope. His heart flies wide open to receive her as she now screams and runs into his arms, runs there without hesitation or consideration, quite as if there were no other place on earth to which to run. “Uncle, he will strike me!” And she presses close, close to him. But Maurits is now calm again. “Forgive my impetuosity, Anne-Marie,” he says. “It hurt me to hear you speak in such a childish way in Uncle’s presence. But Uncle must also understand that you are only a child. Still I grant that not even the most just wrath gives a man the right to strike a woman. Come here now and kiss me. You need not seek protection from me with anybody.” She does not move, does not turn, only clings more closely. “Downie, shall I let him take you?” whispers Uncle Theodore. She answers only with a shudder, which quivers through him also. Uncle Theodore feels so strong, so inspired. He, too, no longer sees his perfect nephew as before in the bright light of his perfection. He dares to jest with him. “Maurits,” he says, “you surprise me. Love makes you weak. Can you so promptly forgive her having called you a scoundrel? You must break with her instantly. Your honor, Maurits, think of your honor! Nothing in the world can permit a woman to insult a man. Place yourself in the chaise, my boy, and go away without this abandoned creature! It is only pure and simple justice after such an insult.” As he finishes this speech, he puts his big hands about her head and bends it back so that he can kiss her forehead. “Give up this abandoned creature!” he repeats. But now Maurits begins to understand also. He sees the light in Uncle Theodore’s eyes and how one smile after the other dances over his lips. “Come, Anne-Marie!” She starts. Now he calls her as the man to whom she has promised herself. She feels she must obey. And she lets go of Uncle Theodore so suddenly that he cannot stop her, but she cannot go to Maurits; so she slides down to the floor and there she remains sitting and sobs.