‘ “Stuff and nonsense!” exclaimed my father; “when you are married to Theodora, and Annita has married Anthony, your romantic ideas will soon disperse, and later on you will be grateful to me.”
‘ “Father, don’t joke, or rather make fun of us. Annita would die rather than marry Anthony, or any other serf. She has been brought up too well for that; and besides that, she admitted yesterday that she had always loved me since she was ten years old.”
‘ “Leave that to me; I am master here.”
‘ “Not over Annita,” I ventured to remark.
‘ “Don’t you think so?”
‘ “She is not your daughter, and neither a slave nor a serf.”
‘ “Who has brought her up for the last twelve years?”
‘ “You and my mother have.”
‘ “Then I suppose we have something to say as to her future?”
‘ “No; when Annita’s future has to be provided for, I have something to say. It was I who saved her life.”