"And what is it you do mind?"
"There are things to trouble us, of course. When aunt Sophie says that all of us have our troubles — even she — I suppose that even she speaks the truth."
"Your aunt Sophie is a fool."
"I should not mind if she were only a fool. But a fool can sometimes be right."
"And she has been scolding you because — you — prefer a Jew to a Christian."
"No — not yet, Anton. She does not know it yet; but she must know it."
"Sit down, Nina." He was still holding her by the hand; and now, as he spoke, he led her to a sofa which stood between the two windows. There he seated her, and sat by her side, still holding her hand in his. "Yes," he said, "she must know it of course — when the time comes; and if she guesses it before, you must put up with her guesses. A few sharp words from a foolish woman will not frighten you, I hope."
"No words will frighten me out of my love, if you mean that — neither words nor anything else."
"I believe you. You are brave, Nina. I know that. Though you will cry if one but frowns at you, yet you are brave."
"Do not you frown at me, Anton."