The little girl was satisfied with the answer, and went quickly and happily away.
"A Raden-Ajoe," she repeated several times to herself. "What is a Raden-Ajoe?" The idea was with her always; she thought constantly of the two words, "Raden-Ajoe." She must later become such an one. She looked around her, saw and came in contact with many Raden-Ajoes, regarded them attentively, studied them, and what she learned (as much as a child could understand) of the lives of these women, caused the spirit of opposition to awaken in her heart against this being a Raden-Ajoe—the ancient iron-bound rule, that girls must marry, must belong to a man, without being asked when, who, or how.
This little girl reached the age of twelve and a half, and it was time that she should say farewell to her merry childish life, and take leave of the school-benches upon which she had been so glad to sit; and of the little European companions among whom she had studied so willingly. She was old enough to come home according to the custom of her country. It demands that a young girl remain in the house, and be rigidly secluded from the outside world until that time when the man for whom God has created her shall come and take her to his dwelling.
She knew all too well that with the school door much that was unutterably dear would be closed to her for ever. The parting from the dear teacher, who bade her farewell with such sympathetic, cordial words, counseling resignation, and from little companions, who with tears in their eyes pressed her hand.
It was hard, but it was as nothing in comparison with the giving up of her lessons, the ending of her studies. She was so bent upon learning, and she knew that there was much more yet to be studied before one can even go through the lower school. She was ambitious, and she did not wish to stand below her little white friends, most of whom were going to Europe later, or her brothers who went to the High School.
She implored her father to allow her to go to the High School at Semarang with the boys; she would do her best; her parents would never have to complain of her. She crouched on her knees before him, her pleading hands resting upon his lap, her great child's eyes were raised up to him full of longing, and in breathless suspense and anguish she waited for his answer.
Caressingly he stroked the dark little head, his fingers pushed back tenderly the rebellious locks from her forehead, and softly and yet firmly, the word "No" came from his lips.
She sprang up, she knew what "No" from him meant. She went away and crept under the bed to hide herself; she wished to be alone with her grief.
Once her teacher had asked her if she could not go to Holland to study with Letsy, his daughter, who was her friend. She listened eagerly and with shining eyes.
"Would you not like to go?"