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"Yes, since the father became governor-general, they have always acted like megalomaniacs."
"The old lady is a regular peac.o.c.k."
"And Bertha, with her smart acquaintances!"
"And then that Mrs. van der Welcke: she's got a nice past to look back upon! And she behaves as though she were the Queen!"
"They're quite an ordinary family, the Van Lowes."
"Yes, they're n.o.bodies: the grandfather was a grocer."
"No!"
"Yes, I a.s.sure you!"
"And that mad Ernst, who's always studying the family-papers to discover if they are not of n.o.ble descent!"
"Oh, he's mad, if you like!"
"In fact, they're all a little bit mad."
"Yes, there's a strain of it in all of them."
"A strain? Something more than a strain _I_ call it. And it's continued in the Van Naghels."
"Adolphine's the best of the lot."
"She's a megalomaniac, though, for all that."
"I say, this Mrs. van der Welcke: what has she come here for?"
"Well, she thinks the whole thing has blown over. It was fifteen years ago, you see. And she's married to Van der Welcke."
"Not according to Dutch law."
"No, but she can get married again."
"Yes, but they are not, they are _not_ married according to Dutch law."
"Well, in that case, _I_ don't look upon them as married at all!"
"Not according to Dutch...."
"No, but...."
"Yes...."
"No...."
"Yes...."
The party ended and the guests departed.
CHAPTER XVI
Next day, Emilie and Marianne van Naghel were hard at work in their boudoir. They shared a sitting-room between them; Louise, the eldest sister, had one to herself. Emilie was 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, pa.s.sionately. "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 pa.s.sage."