"I would obey you, mamma, but how could I exist away from you?"

Thereupon my little daughter pretended to cry. I say pretended, as it was
quite evident that the child did not mean what she said, and I am sure
that her mother knew it as well as I.

It was really a melancholy thing to see the effects of a bad education on
this young child, to whom nature had given intelligence and feeling. I
took the mother on one side, and said that if she had intended to make
actors of her children she had succeeded to admiration; but if she wished
them to become useful members of society her system had failed
lamentably, as they were in a fair way to become monsters of deceit. I
continued making her the most pointed remonstrances until, in spite of
her efforts to control herself, she burst into tears. However, she soon
recovered her composure, and begged me to stay at the Hague a day longer,
but I told her it was out of the question, and left the room. I came in
again a few minutes after, and Sophie came up to me and said, in a loving
little voice,

"If you are really my friend, you will give me some proof of your
friendship."

"And what proof do you want, my dear?"

"I want you to come and sup with me to-morrow."

"I can't, Sophie dear, for I have just said no to your mother, and she
would be offended if I granted you what I had refused her."