“When?” asked Maria, in a tone as mournful as if she believed in no happier future.
“Soon,” replied her husband firmly. “Soon, if only each one gives willingly what our native land demands.”
At these words the young wife loosed her hands from her husband’s, for the door had opened and Barbara called to her brother from the threshold.
“Herr Matanesse Van Wibisma, the Glipper, is in the entry and wants to speak to you.”
“Show him up,” said the burgomaster reluctantly. When again alone with his wife, he asked hastily “Will you be indulgent and help me?”
She nodded assent, trying to smile.
He saw that she was sad and, as this grieved him, held out his hand to her again, saying:
“Better days will come, when I shall be permitted to be more to you than to-day. What were you going to say just now?”
“Whether you know it or not—is of no importance to the state.”
“But to you. Then lift up your head again, and look at me. Quick, love, for they are already on the stairs.”