Small Souls Part 4

They were all three silent for a while. Constance felt so much, was so full of the past years, that she could not have uttered another word.

"Why didn't you bring Addie?" asked Mamma.

"I thought he might be too young."

"The two Marietjes always come; and so do Adolphine's boys. We never sit up late, because of the children."

"Then I'll bring him next time, Mamma."

Dorine stole a glance at her sister and reflected that Constance was still pretty, for a woman of forty-two. What a young and pretty figure, thought Dorine; but then it was a smart dress; and Constance was sure to wear very expensive stays. Regular features: she was like Mamma; a clear-cut profile; dark eyes, now dimmed with melancholy; very pretty, white hands, with rings; and her hair especially interested Dorine: it was turning into a uniform steel-grey and it curled.

"Connie, does your hair curl of itself?"

"Of course not, Dorine; I wave it."

"What a labour!"

Constance gave a careless laugh.

"Constance always had nice hair," said Mamma, proudly.

"Oh, no, Mamma dear! I have horrid, straight hair."

They were silent again; and all three of them felt that they were not speaking of what lay at their hearts.

"Constance, what lovely rings you have!"

"Ah, Dorine, I remember you used to admire me in the old days; when I went to a ball, you used to stand and gaze at me. But there is nothing left to admire, Dorine: I'm an old stick, now...."

"My dear!" said Mamma, indignantly.

"You needn't mind, Mamma: you're always young, a young grandmamma...."

And she pressed Mamma's hand, with a touching fervour.

[1] A half-caste.

[2] The lunch or tiffin of the Dutch East Indies, consisting of rice with a great variety of spiced meats and vegetables.

[3] Cakes.

[4] Lord!

[5] Poor dear!

CHAPTER III

"Dorine," asked Constance, "where is Papa's portrait?"

"In the boudoir."

"Oh, so Mamma has moved it! I want to see it."

She went with Dorine through the drawing-room, past the card-tables....

She noticed that the conversation at once stopped at the table where Adolphine and Uncle Ruyvenaer were playing and that her sister raised her voice and said:

"Did I deal?... Diamonds!"

"They were talking about me," thought Constance.

She went into the boudoir with Dorine: there was a card-table, with cards and markers, but there was no one in the room. Decanters and gla.s.ses, sandwiches and cakes had been put out in readiness for later.

"Papa," said Constance, softly.

She looked up at the big portrait. It was not a work of art; it was painted in the regulation, wooden style of thirty or forty years before; and it struck Constance as an ugly daub, dark and flat, in spite of all the gold on the governor-general's uniform, all the stars of the orders.

The portrait represented a tall and commanding man, with a hard face and dark, stony eyes.

"I ... I used to think that portrait much finer," said Constance. "Was Papa so hard?..."

Her eyes were riveted on her father's face.... She had certainly been his favourite daughter. Her marriage to De Staffelaer, his friend, a man much older than herself, had pleased him, because it flattered his ambition.... But then, then he fell ill; he died soon after, soon after the thing that happened: that and her marriage to Van der Welcke.... Oh G.o.d, was it she who had killed him?

She drew Dorine to her:

"Tell me, Dorine.... Was Papa ill for long?"

"Yes, Connie, very long."

They were silent. They thought of their father, of his ambition, of his longing for the greatness which he achieved; of his wish to see his children also great, high-placed and powerful....

"I say, Dorine, how strange it is ... that not one of Papa's sons ..."

"What do you mean, Connie?"

"Nothing.... I don't know...."

Papa had always helped Van Naghel.... Her thoughts ran on:

"Dorine, is Karel still a burgomaster?"

"Oh, no, Connie! Karel and Cateau have been living at the Hague for years."

"And Gerrit is ... a captain?"

"Yes, in the hussars."