GERDA. Yes.
CONSUL. So she has got a stepfather?
GERDA. Yes.
CONSUL. Put up your hair and calm yourself. Then I'll try to straighten this matter out. But spare my brother——
GERDA. I suppose he hates me?
CONSUL. No, don't you see that he has been taking care of your flowers in the bed over there? He brought the soil himself, in a basket, don't you remember? Don't you recognise your blue gentians and the mignonette, your Malmaison and Merveille de Lyons roses, which he budded himself? Don't you understand that he has cherished the memory of yourself and of the child?
GERDA. Where is he now?
CONSUL. Taking a walk along the avenue, but he will be here in a few minutes with the evening papers. When he comes from that side he uses the back door, and he goes straight into the dining-room to read the papers. Stand still and he won't notice you.—But you must go back to your own rooms——
GERDA. I can't! I can't go back to that man.
CONSUL. Who is he, and what?