There was active hostility now in each of the three. The betrayed child perceived with satisfaction how their anger gathered helplessly against his own little, despised person. Every now and then he cast a shrewd, ironic look at the baron's sullen face and saw how he was muttering curses between gritted teeth and had to restrain himself from hurling them out at him. He also observed with sarcastic glee how his mother's fury was mounting and that both of them were longing for an opportunity to attack him and send him away, or render him innocuous. But he gave them no opening, the tactics of his hate had been prepared too well in advance and left no spots exposed. "Let us go back," his mother burst out, feeling she could no longer control herself and that she must do something, if only cry out, under the imposition of this torture. "A pity," said Edgar quietly, "it's so lovely." The other two realized the child was making fun of them, but they dared not retort, their tyrant having learned marvellously in two days the supreme art of self-control. Not a quiver in his face betrayed his mordant irony. Without another word being spoken they retraced the long way back to the hotel. When Edgar and his mother were alone together in her room, her excitement was still seething. She tossed her gloves and parasol down angrily. Edgar did not fail to note these signs and was aware that her electrified nerves would seek to discharge themselves, but he courted an outburst and remained in her room on purpose. She paced up and down, seated herself, drummed on the table with her fingers, and jumped up again. "How untidy you look. You go around filthy. It's a disgrace. Aren't you ashamed of yourself--a boy of your age!" Without a word of opposition Edgar went to his mother's toilet table and washed and combed himself. His cold, obdurate silence and the ironic quiver of his lips drove her to a frenzy. Nothing would have satisfied her so much as to give him a sound beating. "Go to your room," she screamed, unable to endure his presence a second longer. Edgar smiled and left the room. How the two trembled before him! How they dreaded every moment in his presence, the merciless grip of his eyes! The worse they felt the more he gloated, and the more challenging became his satisfaction. Edgar tortured the two defenceless creatures with the almost animal cruelty of children. The baron, because he had not given up hope of playing a trick on the lad and was thinking of nothing but the goal of his desires, could still contain his anger, but Edgar's mother was losing her hold upon herself and kept constantly slipping. It was a relief to her to be able to shriek at him. "Don't play with your fork," she cried at table. "You're an ill-bred monkey. You don't deserve to be in the company of grown-up people."