She had taken up her knitting and was again working with nervous haste: there was considerable bitterness, too, in the tone of the last words, which came sharply and pointedly from between her compressed lips. "He" evidently meant her brother; but Reinhold thought it better to tack about a little before he steered for that course. "How do you mean, dear aunt?" said he. "You won't understand," answered Aunt Rikchen, with a sharp look over her spectacles; "you won't see how he behaves to his only sister, and that he tyrannises over me and tyrannises over us all--there is no doubt about that." "But, my dear aunt, that is my uncle's way, and you cannot expect anything else from him." "But I can," exclaimed Aunt Rikchen, "for he always behaves worse to a poor thing like me. And why? Because he thinks I might take too much upon myself, and might end by contradicting him when he talks about his politics, and geography, and history, and all the stuff he crams his head with. We women understand nothing of all that! it is not our province; he alone understands it, and it is all to be kept for him. Of course it is all for him alone when he takes the books from under our noses and the newspapers out of our hands. He himself learnt nothing when he was a boy, and he ought to know how disagreeable it is to sit by without speaking, and having no idea whether Timbuctoo, or whatever it is called, is a town, or a fish, or an animal, and not daring to ask--he ought to know that!" The knitting-needles clicked more nervously, the spectacles had slipped so far down her nose that they could not slip any farther without coming off; and it would have been impossible for the sharp words to find an outlet if the thin lips were to be more closely pressed together. "Certainly it is not right of my uncle," said Reinhold, "to be so thoughtless of other people's feelings and to be so contemptuous of other people's desire for information; but it is often so with autodidactic persons." "With whom?" asked Aunt Rikchen. "With people who have no one but themselves to thank for their education. I once knew an old negro who without any assistance, but entirely by his own intense industry, attained the rank of ship's-captain, and really was unusually well-informed in nautical science and astronomy--that means knowledge of ships and stars, aunt--the result being that he looks upon every one else as helpless ignoramuses." "And what does that mean?" "People who know nothing."