her. You see, I say different things from other people, because I don't know how to talk . . ."
"I know," she whispered, "that he loves her."
"You know?"
"Yes."
"Has he told you?"
"No. But I see it radiating out of him as I do out of her."
"So do I."
"Hush, please hush!"
"What's the use of hushing? Everybody sees it."
"No, not everybody."
"If we see it, everybody sees it."
"No."
"I say yes. I know that your brothers see it."
"No . . . Please, please . . . don't speak of it, don't speak of it, don't speak of it!"
"She is happy!"
"She must be suffering as well."
"But she gives herself up to her happiness. She is young, she does not reflect . . . any more than Hans does. I am sorry . . . for your sake, mevrouw."
"It is no sorrow to me for my own sake . . . I am sorry . . . for hers. Don't be angry with the child! Who knows what she suffers! Don't be angry because she . . . annoyed you at dinner, with her questions."
