"Ottilie, we have become so old, quietly, quietly. We have only had to suffer inwardly. But that has been enough, God will consider that punishment enough. Don't be afraid of death."
"I should not be afraid if I had seen his face wearing a gentler expression, with something of forgiveness. He always stared at me.... Oh, those eyes!..."
"Hush, Ottilie!..."
"When I sat here, he would stand there, in the corner by the cabinet, and look at me. When I was in bed, he appeared in my mirror and gazed at me. For years and years.... Perhaps it was an hallucination.... But I grew old like that. I have no tears left. I no longer wring my hands. I never move except between this chair and my bed. I have had no uneasiness ... or terror ... for years: nobody knows. Of the baboe[1] ..."
"Ma-Boeten?"
"Yes ... I have had no news for years. She was the only one who knew. She's dead, I expect."
"Roelofsz knows," said the old gentleman, very softly.
"Yes ... he knows ... but ..."
"Oh, he has always kept silent!..."
"He is ... almost ... an accomplice...."