Fancy if he knew that she had prepared herself for this journey by a long conference with her mother before they went to bed; and by a long succession of anxious dreams through the night, and with prayers, and with tears!  But she pretends to be stupid, in order to get more enjoyment out of Maurits’s wisdom.  He likes to show it, and she is glad to let him.

“The real trouble is that you are so sweet,” says Maurits; for that was how he had come to care for her, and it was really very stupid of him.  His father was not at all in favor of it.  And his mother!  He hardly dared to think of what a fuss she had made when Maurits had informed her that he had engaged himself to a poor girl from a back street—­a girl who had no education, no accomplishments, and who was not even pretty; only sweet.

In Maurits’s eyes, of course, the daughter of a baker was just as good as the son of a burgomaster, but every one did not have such liberal views as he.  If Maurits had not had his rich uncle, it could never have come to anything; for he was only a student, and had nothing to marry on.  But if they now could win his uncle over their way was clear.

I see them so plainly as they drive along the road.  She looks a little unhappy as she listens to his wisdom.  But she is content in her thoughts!  How sensible Maurits is!  And when he speaks of the sacrifices he is making for her, it is only his way of saying how much he cares for her.

And if she had expected that alone together on such a beautiful day he perhaps might be not quite the same as when they sat at home with her mother—­but that would not have been right of Maurits.  She is proud of him.

He is telling her what kind of a man his uncle is.  If he will befriend them their fortune is made.  Uncle Theodore is incredibly rich.  He owns eleven smelting-furnaces, and farms and houses besides, and mines and stocks.  To all these Maurits is the proper heir.  But Uncle Theodore is a little uncertain to have to do with when it concerns any one he does not like.  If he is not pleased with Maurits’s wife, he can will away everything.

The little face grows paler and smaller, but Maurits only stiffens and swells.  There is not much chance of Anne-Marie’s turning his uncle’s head as she did his.  His uncle is quite a different kind of man.  His taste—­well, Maurits does not think much of his taste — but he thinks that it would be something loud-voiced, something flashing and red which would strike Uncle.  Besides, he is a confirmed old bachelor—­thinks women are only a bother.  The most important thing is that he shall not dislike her too much.  Maurits will take care of the rest.  But she must not be silly.  Is she crying—!  Oh, if she does not look better by the time they arrive, Uncle will send them off inside of a minute.  She is glad for their sakes that Uncle is not as clever as Maurits.  She hopes it is no sin against Maurits to think that it is good that Uncle is quite a different sort of person.  For fancy, if Maurits had been Uncle, and two poor young people had come driving to him to get aid in life; then Maurits, who is so sensible, would certainly have begged them to return whence they came, and wait to get married until they had something to marry on.