Part 49 (1/2)
”Tell them what, Mamma?”
”That I am _too tired_ to....”
”Yes?”
”On Sundays....”
”To have us here on Sundays, Mamma?”
”No, dear, no, don't say it.... Don't say that!... But tell them that this evening....”
”This evening?”
”Is the last time....”
”The last evening?”
”No, dear, no, not the last.... Just tell them to go away, dear ... and you go with your husband.... Has Addie gone? But you go now ... you go also ... to Gerrit's house.... And then come back here again.... I want to see you ... all three of you ... here again.... Do you understand?...
All three of you ... do you understand?”
”Yes, Mamma.”
”Go now ... go....”
They went; and the children took their leave.
Outside, it was snowing great flakes. The snowflakes had been falling all through the night over the small town out of an infinite land of death, out of infinite sky-plains of infinite death. And, after all the gloom of the dark nights that had been, the nights under the grey skies of storm and rain, it had snowed whiter and whiter out of the dense greyness of sky-plains and skyland, flakes falling upon flakes in a soft white shroud of oblivion that enveloped houses and people....
CHAPTER XXVIII
Outside, the snow was falling in great flakes. The parlour-maid had opened the door:
”But your cab isn't here yet, ma'am....”
”It doesn't matter. We'll walk.”
”I must say, it's a little absurd of Mamma,” said Van der Welcke, on the doorstep. ”Must we go to Gerrit's ... in this weather? And has Addie gone too?... Was Mamma as anxious as all that?... It's snowing hard, Constance: it's enough to give one one's death, to go out in this weather....”
”Well, then you stay, Henri.”
”Do you mean to go in any case?”
”Yes, Mamma wants me to.”
”But it's absurd!”
”Perhaps so ... but she would like it.... And we mayn't be able to do things to please her much longer!”