as taking down water-colours from
the wall:

"The room was so bright and cheerful!" she said, softly, and put the
drawings together.

Marianne suddenly burst into sobs. The room was all topsy-turvy, because
Emilie was collecting her belongings, and the wall-paper now showed in
fresh, unfaded rectangular patches.

"What on earth do you want to marry that horrid man for!" cried
Marianne, sobbing. "We were so happy, the two of us; we were always
together. With you married, I shall have no one; and I hate the idea of
arranging my room all over again."

Emilie seemed to be staring blankly into a blank future:

"Oh, come, Marianne: I shall still be at the Hague!"

"No, I've lost you!" sobbed Marianne, passionately. "What did you see in
that man, what _did_ you see in him?" She embraced her sister violently
and insisted. "Tell me, tell me: what did you see in that man?"

"In Eduard? I love him."

"Oh?" said Marianne. "Is that all it means, loving a man? Is that love?"

A maid entered:

"Freule, there's a box come from Brussels, with your dresses. Mevrouw
wants to know if it can be brought up at once, so as not to make a
litter downstairs."

"Yes, they can bring it up."

Overwrought, Marianne had sunk into a chair and closed her eyes. She was
in a state of nervous excitement, while Emilie, with strange calmness,
was collecting boxes, portraits, ornaments.

"Emilie," said Marianne, resignedly, "what a mess you're making!"

"Never mind, I'm taking it all away."

"Yes, that's just it: everything's going away, everything's going away!"

"Marianne, do control yourself."

Two maids came dragging along a packing-case.

"Where shall we put it, freule?"

"Leave it there, in the passage."

Bertha came upstairs:

"Unpack it at once, Emilie, or the things will crease."

"Do you think it's my wedding-dress?"

"I expect so."

"Then it can go on the bed."

"No, it had better be hung in the wardrobe."

The servants opened the packing-case and produced cardboard boxes. A
third maid entered:

"A bill from Van der Laan's, mevrouw."

"Marianne, here's my key-basket; just pay it, will you? It's sixty-six
guilders."

The two Leiden boys came upstairs:

"Jolly beastly, I call it," said Frans. "You never find any one in the
drawing-room, when you come home. Either it's a party, or else
everything's upside down."

"Bless my soul, girls," said Henri, "look at the state your room's in!"

"I say, shall I help yo