"Don't think only of yourself. Think of us. Think of Van Naghel, of his
position. You make it impossible for him, if you insist on...."

"Coming to your at-home days....?"

"For goodness' sake, Constance, don't be angry. It is impossible."

"What is?"

"For you to...."

"What?"

"To force the position. When Mamma spoke to us, eight months ago, about
you coming to the Hague, Van Naghel at once said that our house was open
to you and your husband, but that you must not push and assert
yourselves."

"So that was the condition?"

"It was not a condition, Constance: it was merely advice, given in your
own interest...."

"And in yours."

"Very well, in ours too. People come to my days, just because of my
husband's position and connections, people who are relations and friends
of De Staffelaer's, people who have never forgiven you and never will.
Can't you see that for yourself, Constance? Must I explain it to you?"

"Bertha, I never had any desire to push or assert myself."

"Then what makes you?"

"What makes me?" And it was as though Constance was searching for the
answer. "What but you, all of you?"

"Don't be unreasonable, Constance."

"What else did I want but to come and live here quietly at the Hague and
see all of you again--my brothers, my sisters, your children--without
ever dreaming of pushing myself? Who first spoke of pushing? You, you
and your husband, Bertha!"

"Constance!"

"Who first spoke about the Court, Bertha? Adolphine."

"Please, Constance, please...."

"I never thought, Bertha, of getting presented at Court; but now I
shall, at the first occasion that offers."

"Constance!" And Bertha wrung her hands. "It's impossible!"

"Yes, it _is_ possible; and I mean to do it."

"Constance, how can you wish to defy people's opinions like that!"

"Because of those very people!"

"I don't understand you, Constance. All my friends...."

"Exactly, because of your friends."

"All our family...."

"Because of our family."

"Wait a bit, Constance. I don't understand you. I don't know what you
mean to say. But just consider, just consider. You are not only making
yourself impossible, but you are making us impossible: my husband, my
house, our position, our children...."

"Nonsense!"

"It's not nonsense, Constance. Do you want to make me regret that we
yielded to Mamma's wish to have you here again, near her, among us all?"

"No, Bertha, but I can no longer remain--for the sake