She spoke with perfect calmness, but at the last words she shrugged her shoulders slightly. Darvid looked at her with dazed eyes.
"How is this?" began he, in a low voice. "You—you—have you come to talk to me—about this? Do you know? Do you understand? And have you come to talk about—this?"
"My father," answered Irene, "to bring our conversation to any result we must first of all push away painted pots from between us."
"What does that mean?" asked Darvid.
"What does it mean? What are painted pots? They are little dabs of wretched clay, but painted in beautiful colors; they are just what naivete, bashfulness, modesty, and darned socks like them would be to-day in my case."
She laughed.
"I have known all that has happened this long time. I was a little girl, in a corner of a room, dressing a doll, when a certain conversation between you and mamma struck my ears, and helped me considerably to understand what took place afterward. Because of business and difficulties which swallowed your time you were ever absent, father. Oh, I have no thought of criticising you, no thought whatever. Here a question of logic presents itself, simple logic. You were chasing after that which was your happiness, the delight of your life, while mamma—poor mamma stooped to pick up also for herself a little happiness and delight. But your happiness and delight were open, brilliant, triumphant, while mamma's were always full of darkness, poison, and shame."
For the first time in that conversation her voice quivered; and, inclining her face, she brushed away from her dress, with the rosy tips of her fingers, some bit of dust that had dropped on it; then again she gazed with a look clear and calm at her father, who had sat down in front of her.
"To convince you, father," continued she, "that our conversation has a perfectly important and definite meaning I permit myself to open before you the secret, but for me, the visible springs which caused the so-called offence, and present disposition of mamma."
"It would be better to avoid this and proceed to the point directly," said Darvid, throwing his eyeglasses on his nose with a nervous movement.