An old nurse entered:
"Freule," she said to Louise, "meneer asks if you'll please not talk so loud up here. Meneer can hear Mr. van Raven's voice."
"Where is Mr. van Raven now?"
"The blackguard has gone to Mr. Frans and Mr. Henri's sitting-room."
"Very well, Leentje, we'll make less noise. But you mustn't talk like that."
"It hurts!" moaned Emilie.
The woman looked at her compassionately:
"The dirty blackguard!" she said. "Did he hit you, my poor dear? . . ."
"Leentje, I won't have you speak like that!" said Louise.
"And I'll tell him to his face . . . that he's a dirty blackguard," the old nurse insisted, obstinately.
She knelt beside Emilie, opened the girl's blouse and softly rubbed her breast:
"The blackguard!" she repeated.
The sisters let her alone. They were silent, all three; the room was all in confusion. Emilie had dropped back again limply among Marianne's clothes. Leentje got up and began tidying.
"Louise," whispered Emilie.
"My poor sissy!"
"I see Uncle Henri's portrait there . . . And there . . . And another over there . . . Marianne's fond of Uncle Henri . . ."
