"Yes, it's very sad. And we really must help her. There's a lot of money needed. Sending round a subscription-list won't bring in much. People are very generous, but they've already made such sacrifices lately. They went mad at the fancy-fair. They can't do much for the moment, so near the end of the month. But, early next month, in the first week of January, mevrouwtje, some theatricals by your Thalia society: you know, nothing elaborate, a couple of drawing-room sketches and no expenses. Seats at a guilder and a half, two guilders and a half, perhaps, and, if you set it going, the hall will be full; people will come over from Surabaya. You must help me, you will, won't you?" "But, resident," said Eva, wearily, "we've just had those tableaux-vivants. Don't be angry with me, but I don't care to be always acting." "Yes, yes, you must this time," Van Oudijck insisted, a little imperiously, greatly excited about his plan. She became peevish. She liked her independence; and in these days of dejection particularly she was too disconsolate, in these days of dreaming she felt too much confused to accede at once with a good grace to his authoritative request: "Really, resident, I can think of nothing this time," she answered, curtly. "Why doesn't Mrs. van Oudijck do it herself?" She was startled when she had made this peevish remark. Walking beside her, the resident lost his composure; and his face clouded over. The animated, cheerful expression and the jovial smile around his thick moustache suddenly disappeared. She saw that she had been cruel; and she felt remorse for it. And for the first time, suddenly, she saw that, in love with his wife though he was, he did not approve of her withdrawing herself from everything. She saw that it gave him pain. It was as though this side of his character were being made clear to her: she was seeing it plainly for the first time. He did not know what to reply: seeking for his words, he remained silent. Then she said, coaxingly: "Don't be angry, resident. It wasn't nice of me. I know that all that sort of bustle only bores Mrs. van Oudijck. I am glad to relieve her of it. I will do anything you wish." Her eyes were filled with nervous tears. He was smiling now and gave her a penetrating sidelong glance: "You're a bit overstrung. But I knew that you had a good heart ... and would not leave me in the lurch ... and would consent to help poor old Mother Staats. But don't throw away any money, mevrouwtje: no expense, no new scenery. Just your wit, your talent, your beautiful elocution: French or Dutch, as you please. We're proud of all that at Labuwangi, you know; and all the beautiful acting--which you give us free of charge--is quite enough to make the performance a success. But how overstrung you are, mevrouwtje! Why are you crying? Aren't you well? Tell me: is there anything I can do for you?" "Don't work my husband so hard, resident. I never see anything of him."