appeared Leonard, a rusty iron bar in his hand. He called threateningly
from the bottom of the stairs.

"Do not hurt her, Mr. Willems. You are a savage. Not at all like we,
whites."

"You too!" said the bewildered Willems. "I haven't touched her. Is this
a madhouse?" He moved towards the stairs, and Leonard dropped the bar
with a clang and made for the gate of the compound. Willems turned back
to his wife.

"So you expected this," he said. "It is a conspiracy. Who's that sobbing
and groaning in the room? Some more of your precious family. Hey?"

She was more calm now, and putting hastily the crying child in the big
chair walked towards him with sudden fearlessness.

"My mother," she said, "my mother who came to defend me from you--man
from nowhere; a vagabond!"

"You did not call me a vagabond when you hung round my neck--before we
were married," said Willems, contemptuously.

"You took good care that I should not hang round your neck after we
were," she answered, clenching her hands, and putting her face close to
his. "You boasted while I suffered and said nothing. What has become of
your greatness; of our greatness--you were always speaking about? Now
I am going to live on the charity of your master. Yes. That is true. He
sent Leonard to tell me so. And you will go and boast somewhere else,
and starve. So! Ah! I can breathe now! This house is mine."