Small Souls Part 25

"_Allah_, Grandmamma!" cried Frances, irritably; but, when Constance gave her the same advice, she flung a wrapper over her _sarong_ and _kabaai_ and remained like that, with her bare feet in slippers.

"No wonder you're always ill!" grumbled Grandmamma, still busying herself with the child.

"Oh, Aunt Constance, I wonder if you would run down to the kitchen and tell cook that Ottelientje can't have her _boeboer_ made like that?"

"My dear Frances," laughed Constance, "the cook has never seen me, nor I her: and, if I went to her kitchen and talked about the _boeboer_, she would only turn me out."

"What a country to live in, Holland!" cried Frances. "My child is starving for food!"

"I'll go down to Mamma, if you like...."

"Yes, do, would you?"

Constance went downstairs. In the boudoir, Emilie, in her wedding-dress, was standing in front of a long gla.s.s. The heavy white satin crushed her, looked hard and cruel upon her, now that her hair was not done and she tired and pale.

"The bodice doesn't fit. It will simply have to go back to Brussels,"

said Bertha.

"It's sickening!" said Emilie; and the word sounded almost like a curse between her lips.

"Marianne, will you write the letter? I'll pin the dress up. Or no, I had better write myself. Constance, do look!"

"There's a crease here," said Constance, "but it's not very bad. Daren't you have it altered here?"

"Upon my word, I'm paying...." Bertha began, but she checked herself and did not say how much. "And to have it fit badly into the bargain!"

"Bertha, Frances asked me to come and see you."

"What about?"

"There's some trouble about Ottelientje's _boeboer_."

"I'll go up," said Bertha, worn-out though she was.

The maid, holding up Emilie's train, followed her into the bedroom; Marianne and Constance remained behind alone. Constance saw that Marianne was crying.

"What is it, dear?"

"Oh, Auntie!"

"What is it?"

"Is life worth all this bother and fuss? Getting married, moving your things, dancing, giving dinners and parties, ordering dresses that don't fit and cost hundreds, being ill, having babies, eating _boeboer_: Auntie, is it really all worth while?"

"Why, Marianne, I might be listening to Paul!"

"Oh, no, I'm not so eloquent as Paul! But I'm suffocating with it all, I'm stifling and I'm terribly, terribly, terribly unhappy!"

"Marianne!"

The young girl suddenly burst into nervous sobs and threw herself into Constance' arms. Around her, the room was one scene of confusion; the doors were all open.

"Marianne, let me shut the doors."

"No, Auntie, don't mind about that, but stay with me, do! It's more than I can stand, more than I can stand! I'm so tired of this rush, of this unnecessary excitement, of the party yesterday, of those tableaux-vivants, of Floortje's jealousy, of Aunt Adolphine's spitefulness, I am tired, tired, tired of everything. I can't stand it, Auntie. I'm so fond of Emilie, we've always been together, it was so nice, so jolly; and now, all at once, she's getting married to that hateful man; and she's taking away her sketches; and it's all over; and now everything's gone, everything's gone! And Henri too is so upset about it: he dotes on Emilie, just as I do, and he can't understand either what she's doing it for. She's very happy here; Papa and Mamma and all the rest are fond of her; we had such a nice life, even if it was a bit overdone and I don't care for that everlasting going out; but now it's all over, all over! I sat crying with Henri yesterday; and at the party we had to be gay; and every one thought that he was gay, the gay undergraduate; and the poor boy was miserable; and yesterday I had to appear in that tableau; and Floortje was so horrid and spiteful; and Henri and Frans had a dialogue to do; and the poor boy couldn't speak his words; and I ask you, Auntie, why all this unhappiness, when we were so happy together?"

She clenched her fists and, through her sobs, suddenly began to laugh aloud:

"Oh, Auntie!... Ha, ha!... Oh, Auntie!... Don't mind what I say! I am mad, I am mad, but it's they who are driving me mad: Mamma, the boys, the servants, the _baboe_, Frances and the children! It's one great merry-go-round! Ha, ha!... Did you ever see such an everlasting rush as we have in this house?"

She was now sobbing and laughing together; and suddenly she remembered that she had let herself go too much with a strange aunt and that Mamma did not like these spontaneous confidences to strangers; and, because she wanted to recover herself, she suddenly became rather dignified and asked:

"Did you enjoy yourself fairly yesterday, Aunt Constance?"

"Yes, Marianne, I thought it very nice to be back among you all."

"Don't you like Brussels better than the Hague?"

"It was so quiet for us, lately, in Brussels."

"Rome, I should like to see Rome."

"Yes, Rome is beautiful."

They were now silent and they both felt that things of the past parted them, the new, strange aunt, who had come back from the past, and the young girl, who was suddenly afraid of it.

And, without understanding why, Marianne sighed, in the midst of this shrinking fear:

"Oh, for a joy, a real joy that would fill me entirely! No more dinners and dresses and excitement about nothing, but a real joy, a great joy!"

She felt so strange, so giddy, but she still found strength to say:

"It's a pity that you were away from us so long. We should always have liked you and Uncle very much, but now you are both so strange still, to all of us."

"Yes," replied Constance, very wearily.

And she did not understand why she suddenly felt very sad, as though, after all, for manifold reasons, she had not done well to come back, though there had been that hunger for her own people, her own kith and kin....

"A joy, a great joy!" Marianne again sighed, softly.

And she pressed her hands to her breast, as though distressed by her strange longing....

[10] Maid, nurse.

[11] What is it?

[12] The young mistress, as who should say, the young mem-sahib.