"Bulk does not stand for much in a sword game."
"Do you mean they might fight a duel?"
"I think it is best for you to go home with Rem. Otherwise, he might, in his present temper, find himself near Becker's; and if a man is quarrelsome he may always get principals and seconds there. You have told me this yourself. In the morning Rem will, I hope, be reasonable."
"I thought you and I would talk things over to-night. I like to talk over a new pleasure."
"Dear Arenta, we shall have so much more time, to-morrow. Come to- morrow."
But Arenta was not pleased. She left her friend with an air of repressed injury, and afterwards made little remarks about Cornelia to her brother, which exactly fitted his sense of wounded pride. Indeed, they stood a few minutes in the Van Ariens' parlour to exchange their opinions still further-"I think Cornelia was jealous of me, Rem. That, in plain Dutch, is what it all means. Does she imagine that I desire the attentions of a man who is neither an American nor a Dutchman? I do not. I speak the truth always, for I love the truth."
"Cornelia does desire them; I think that--and it makes me wretched."
"Oh, indeed, it is plain to see that she has fallen in love with that black-eyed man of many songs and dances. Well, then, we must admit that he danced to perfection. One may dislike the creature, and yet tell the truth."
"Do you truly believe that Cornelia is in love with him?"
"Rem, there are things a woman observes. Cornelia is changed to-night. She did not wish me to stay and talk about this man Hyde--she preferred thinking about him--such reveries are suspicious. I have felt the symptom. But, however, I may be wrong. Perhaps Cornelia was angry at Hyde, and anxious about you--Do you think that?"
Rem would not admit any such explanation; and, indeed, Arenta only made such suppositions to render more poignant those entirely contrary.
"Ever since she was a little girl, twelve, eleven years old, I have loved her," said Rem; "and she knows it."
"She knows it; that is so. When I was at Bethlehem, I read her all your letters; and many a time you spoke in them of her as your 'little wife.' To be sure, it was a joke; but she understood that you, at least, put your heart in it. Girls do not need to have such things explained. Come, come, we must go to our rooms; for that is our father I hear moving about. In a few minutes he will be angry, and then--"