Maria. In North Brabant, Mejuffrouw.
Clara. Thank Heaven! then you are safe, father!
Maria. Safe! Then you are refugees?
Van Werve. Clara!
Clara. I was imprudent, father—forgive me. But I could not control my joy at finding myself once more in our own country, after all that we have gone through.
Van Werve. I am not yet sure that we are safe here.
Clara. If we had anything to fear here, I feel sure, from this girl’s honest face, that she would not betray us.
Maria. I betray you! I’d sooner die a thousand times over. But come and sit down—you seem tired.
Clara. It is true, we have been walking for a long time, and I begin to feel it.
Van Werve. My dear child, what a difficult and anxious journey you have exposed yourself to, to save your father. (To Maria.) Yes, my good girl, I have been in prison,—my daughter has succeeded in saving me, and it is to her courage and devotion I owe it that we have been able to pass the enemy’s outposts and reach this village.