"I do not remember her name—you are a servant's child—a servant's child."
The young man staggered towards the door. Then he turned to the women again, his arms outstretched.
"Mother!"
No response.
"Sweetheart!"
But the girl had moved to her mother's side, and the mother had her arms around her. "A servant's child," they whispered, too stunned to weep.
Then the boy turned, and without a word left the room. When the door slammed the girl drew herself from her mother's side, as though waking from a sleep.
"Where is he?" she cried. "What have you done to him? Why did you not give me time to think? I love him; I do not care what he is; I love him!" She staggered blindly across the room, calling to him to come back, but before she could open the door she fell in a swoon before it.
