Part 4 (1/2)
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?”