Small Souls Part 32

"No, no!" said Van der Welcke, becoming interested. "Don't beat about the bush; say what you meant to say."

"I couldn't understand your having the idea, or how the idea could ever have occurred to your wife: I tell you so, honestly. De Staffelaer is a relation of the Eilenburgs and of the Van Heuvel Steyns; and it would surely be painful for you and your wife to meet those people, wouldn't it?... That's all."

"Short and sweet," said Van der Welcke, still feeling put out.

"But that's the whole point of it."

"You're right," muttered Van der Welcke, gloomily. "Perhaps we ought never to have come to the Hague."

"Nonsense!" said Van Vreeswijck, rather feebly. "Your old friends are glad to see you back again. The question of the Court is non-existent with you both. Well, then there's nothing to fret about.... As for myself, I am more than glad to see you at the Hague again," he continued, more cheerfully, almost in a tone of relief. "I have the pleasantest memories of the occasions when I had the privilege of meeting your wife in Brussels. When would it suit you both for me to come and call?"

"Will you look round one evening? Or, if you really want to be friendly, come and dine."

"I should like to, above all things. When shall I come?"

"Day after to-morrow, at seven."

"Delighted. Just yourselves? And I'll call and leave a card to-morrow."

"By the way," said Van der Welcke. "You mentioned De Staffelaer: where is he now?"

"At his country-place, near Haarlem. He's still flourishing. He's well over eighty."

"He must be."

They parted. Van der Welcke went gloomily home. It was curious, but, every afternoon, when he went home from the Witte or the Plaats, he had that gloomy, unsettled feeling. The moment he set eyes on Addie, however, his face at once lighted up; but, this time, when the boy wanted to romp, before dinner, Van der Welcke began to think whether Constance would approve of his having asked Van Vreeswijck to dinner two days later....

They sat down to table:

"By the way," said Van der Welcke, hesitatingly, "I met Van Vreeswijck; and he wanted to call on you and asked when it would suit you."

"He might have done so long ago," said Constance, who had entertained Van Vreeswijck once or twice in Brussels.

"He apologized," said Van der Welcke, in defence of his friend. "He did not know whether you were quite settled. I told him he must come and dine one night and--if it's not too much trouble for you--I asked him to come the day after tomorrow."

"I think he might have paid a visit first."

"He said something about leaving a card to-morrow. But, if you don't care about it, I'll put him off."

"No, it's all right," said Constance.

It was an instinct with her to be hospitable, to have her house always open to her friends. But, until now, she had dreaded asking any one to meals, except Gerrit and Adeline, quite quietly, and, just once, Paul.

Paul happened to call that evening.

"Do you mind if I ask Paul too?" she said to her husband.

"No, of course not; Paul is delightful."

Paul accepted with pleasure. On the evening of the little dinner, he was the first to arrive.

"Addie is dining with Gerrit and Adeline," she said. "It will be nicer for him."

"How charming you've made your place look!" said Paul, enthusiastically.

She had a pretty little drawing-room, cosy and comfortable and gay with many flowers in vases. And she looked most charming, young, with the attractive pallor of her rounded face, the face of a woman in her prime, and a smile in the dimples about her lips, because the graciousness of a hostess was natural to her. Paul thought her the best-looking of all his sisters, as she stood before him in her black dress: a film of black _mousseline-de-soie_ and black lace, falling in a diaphanous cloud over white taffeta. There reigned, in her rooms, in herself, the easy grace of a woman of the world, a quality which Paul had not yet observed in her, because until now he had seen her either quite intimately, in her bedroom, or at those crowded family-evenings. It was as though she had come into her own again.

Yes, as she now welcomed Van Vreeswijck, with a soft, playful word or two, Paul thought her simply adorable. He suddenly understood that, ten years ago, his sister might well have been irresistible. Even now, she had something about her so young, charming, engaging, pretty and distinguished that she was a revelation to him. She was an exquisite woman.

She had not hired a man-servant: the parlour-maid would wait. She herself drew back the hangings from the dining-room door-way and, without taking Van Vreeswijck's arm, asked the men to come in to dinner.

A pink light of shaded candles slumbered over the table, with its bunch of grapes and its pink roses and maiden-hair fern, in between the crystal and the silver.

"But this is most charming!" said Paul, to himself, for he could not tell his sister so yet, as she and Van der Welcke were talking to Van Vreeswijck. "This is most charming! A party of four, like this, in this pretty room. That's just what I like. Compare all that formality of Bertha's. Bertha never gives these intimate little dinners. This is just what I like at my age"--Paul was thirty-five--"no formality, but everything elegant and nicely-served and good.... Excellent _hors d'oeuvres!_ Constance knows how to do things! Compare the friendly, but homely rumpsteak which I sometimes get at Gerrit and Adeline's; or Adolphine's harum-scarum dinners.... No, this is as it should be: a quiet, friendly little dinner and yet everything just right.... Van Vreeswijck's dinner-jacket looks very well on him; only I don't like the cut of his waistcoat: too high, I think, his waistcoat. Those are nice b.u.t.tons of his. But he's wearing a ready-made black tie! How is it possible! Strange how you suddenly perceive an aberration like that in a man: a ready-made tie! Who on earth wears a ready-made tie nowadays!

Still, he looks very well otherwise.... Nice soup, this _veloute_....

What a duck Constance looks! Would you ever think that she was a woman of two-and-forty! She's like Mamma: Mamma also has that softness, that distinction, that same smile; Mamma even has those dimples still, in the corners of her mouth.... No, none of my other sisters could have done that, pulled back the hangings herself with that pretty gesture and asked us so naturally to come in to dinner.... You'll see, Constance will make her house very cosy, even though they are not rich and though they won't go into society officially. These friendly little dinners are just the thing...."

He had to join in the conversation now, with Van Vreeswijck; and Van der Welcke, who was in a pleasant mood, let himself go in a burst of irrepressible frankness:

"Tell me, Vreeswijck, who is it that's been saying we wanted to be presented at Court?..."

Van Vreeswijck hesitated, thought it a dangerous subject of conversation. But Constance laughed gently:

"Yes," she said, seconding her husband, "there seems to be a rumour that we have that intention; and the intention never existed for a moment."

Van Vreeswijck breathed again, relieved:

"Oh, mevrouw, how do people ever get hold of their notions? One will suggest, 'I wonder if they mean to be presented?' The other catches only the last words and says, 'They mean to be presented!' And so the story gets about."

"I shouldn't care for it in the least," said Constance. "I have become so used, of late, to a quiet life that I should think it tiresome to be paying and receiving a lot of visits. I am glad to be at the Hague, because I am back among my family...."

"And the family is very glad too!" said Paul, with brotherly gallantry, and raised his gla.s.s.

She thanked him with her little laugh:

"But I want nothing more than that. And I don't think Henri cares for anything else either."

"No, not at all!" said Van der Welcke. "Only, I can't understand why people at once start talking about others and, without a moment's hesitation, pretend to know more about a fellow's plans than he himself does. I never talk about anybody!"

"I must admit," Constance laughed, "that I often differ from my husband, but in this we are absolutely at one: I too never talk about anybody!"

"But that people should talk about us is only natural, I suppose!" said Van der Welcke and threw up his young, blue eyes, almost ingenuously.

"They had forgotten us for years and now they see us again."

"He oughtn't to have said that," thought Paul. "Sometimes, he is just like a young colt...."

And he could understand that Constance occasionally felt peevish. These allusions, however slight, must necessarily vex her, he thought. Van der Welcke, when he let himself go, was capable of saying very tactless things. He generally restrained himself, but, when he did not, he became too spontaneous for anything. And Paul said something to Van Vreeswijck to change the conversation.

Yes, Paul felt for his sister. After all, that sort of past always remained, always clung about one. They were sitting here so cosily; Van Vreeswijck was a charming talker; and yet, at every moment, there were little rocks against which the conversation ran. Constance was behaving well, thought Paul: he had seen her quite different, flying out at the least word. But she was a woman of the world: she did not fly out before a stranger.... Here they were again, though: the conversation was turning on old Mr. and Mrs. van der Welcke. There they were again: he felt that Van Vreeswijck hesitated even before asking after the old people; and not until Constance herself said that she thought them both looking so well did Van Vreeswijck venture to go on talking about that father- and mother-in-law, who had sacrificed their son, who had refused for years to see their daughter-in-law and even their grandchild....

Surely it was better to talk about indifferent things....