she was going to put her young
daughter into a convent? He would tell Mikolai, he ought certainly not
to allow it. He struck the table a slight blow with his clenched fist
that was so full of nervous strength. "That would almost be like
murder," he said vehemently, and then added, quite shaken, "Foolish
little girl, foolish little girl."

The woman answered nothing. Not a sound was heard in the darkening room
during the next few minutes. She sat blinking at the man with her
burning eyes. What did he think of her? Did he perhaps believe that she
had persuaded the girl to become a nun? Oh, no; he must not believe
that. She felt called upon to convince him that she had had nothing
whatever to do with Rosa's decision. Had she ever persuaded the child
to go into a convent? No, she could not remember having done so--no,
certainly not, she had never done such a thing. She was quite innocent
of it. But at the same moment her blood rose. [Pg 191] Why did the
young fellow trouble himself so much about Rosa? Why did he take such
an interest in her? She was about to fire up--ah, now he was even
reproaching her for it in words.

"Others who are older should be wiser," said Becker.

But she controlled herself; she must not be angry, it was better to win
him with kindness. So she said in a low, dreamy whisper, as though she
were speaking to herself:

"I was still a child when I wanted to go into a convent. I was forced
to marry Mr. Tiralla. Oh!" She raised her hands with a deep sigh, and
clasped them together and pressed them to her pale cheek as though in
pain. "I've been married almost sixteen years, sixteen long years, and
I still long for the convent. If I might be within those sacred walls,
I should be hidden and happy. How can I oppose my daughter if she
doesn't wish to become as unhappy as her mother? I can't help it, it's
not my fault. You must blame Mr. Tiralla; my child has seen too much."
She wiped a few tears away and then held her hand before her eyes, but
she was watching the young man through her fingers. Would her fate
excite his pity? It made her weep herself when she described it. She
longed for his sympathy; she did not know why she especially wanted his
sympathy, she merely felt in a dull kind of way that this man must take
a much, much greater interest in her than in Rosa.

But Martin Becker answered calmly, "If the Pani has not been happy in
her marriage that is no reason why her daughter should not be. She