THE DIARY OF A YOUNG GIRL : THE DEFINITIVE EDITION ... - Fidele

"I don't, Father, but Peter's a decent boy, a nice boy."
"Yes, but he doesn't have much strength of character. He can easily be influenced
to do good, but also to do bad. I hope for his sake that he stays good, because
he's basically a good person."
We talked some more and agreed that Father would speak to him too.
Sunday afternoon when we were in the front attic, Peter asked, "Have you talked to
your Father yet, Anne?"
"Yes," I replied, "I'll tell you all about it. He doesn't think it's wrong, but he
says that here, where we're in such close quarters, it could lead to conflicts."
"We've already agreed not to quarrel, and I plan to keep my promise."
"Me too, Peter. But Father didn't think we were serious, he thought we were just
friends. Do you think we still can be?"
"Yes, I do. How about you?"
"Me too. I also told Father that I trust you. I do trust you, Peter, just as much
as I do Father. And I think you're worthy of my trust. You are, aren't you?"
"I hope so." (He was very shy, and blushing.)
"I believe in you, Peter," I continued. "I believe you have a good character and
that you'll get ahead in this world."
After that we talked about other things. Later I said, "If we ever get out of
here, I know you won't give me another thought."
He got all fired up. "That's not true, Anne. Oh no, I won't let you even think
that about me!"
Just then somebody called us.
Father did talk to him, he told me Monday. "Your Father thought our friendship
might turn into love," he said. "But I told him we'd keep ourselves under
control."
Father wants me to stop going upstairs so often, but I don't want to. Not just
because I like being with Peter, but because I've said I trust him. I do trust
him, and I want to prove it to him, but I'll never be able to if I stay downstairs
out of distrust.
No, I'm going!
In the meantime, the Dussel drama has been resolved. Saturday evening at dinner he
apologized in beautiful Dutch. Mr. van Daan was immediately reconciled. Dussel
must have spent all day practicing his speech.
Sunday, his birthday, passed without incident. We gave him a bottle of good wine
from 1919, the van Daans (who can now give their gift after all) presented him
with a jar of piccalilli and a package of razor blades, and Mr. Kugler gave him a
jar of lemon syrup (to make lemonade), Miep a book, Little Martin, and Bep a
plant. He treated everyone to an egg.