Part 36 (1/2)

”No, Gerrit. Van Naghel, do you know who those two people are: that stout gentleman and that tall lady?”

”Yes, Mamma: it's Bruys and his wife. He's the editor of the _Fonograaf:_ very respectable people, Mamma....”

”My dear Van Naghel!...”

Utterly perplexed, the old lady pa.s.sed on, leaning on Van Naghel's arm....

Constance had overheard the comments of the family upon Adolphine's friends. She herself, newcomer that she now was in Hague society, was not so greatly struck by the fact that Adolphine's guests consisted of all sorts of dissimilar elements: she had sometimes at Rome had to suffer incongruous elements at her big receptions and she had often found, abroad, that it was possible for witty, polished, cultured people to exist, even though they did not belong to her set. Then again she considered that, at a wedding-party, which was attended by relations'

relations and friends' friends, it was almost inevitable that the guests were sometimes entirely unknown to one another: wasn't it the same at Bertha's party? Yes, Bertha had given two evening-parties, in order to separate the elements; but hadn't the family found fault with this? Was there nothing but fault-finding and criticizing in the family; and did none think right what another did? Gerrit and Paul were now sitting beside her; and she heard them talking, condemning, criticizing, ridiculing.

”Poor, dear Mother: she's quite bewildered!”

”I say, Paul, are you allowing yourself to be introduced to Dijkerhof's uncles and aunts?”

”I'm not going to be introduced to another soul,” said Paul, wearily blinking his eyes. ”I'm here to make studies. The only way to amuse yourself in a Noah's ark like this party of Adolphine's is to make studies of the animal side of mankind. Look at Mrs. Bruys eating her cake with an almost animal satisfaction. Look at that uncle of Dijkerhof's dancing with Van Saetzema's cousin: it's almost disgusting.”

”Paul,” said Constance, ”I've known you wittier than you are to-night.”

”My dear sister, I feel myself growing dull here. The figures and colours swarm before my eyes so hideously as really to cause me physical pain. My G.o.d, the charm of our modern life, the charm at an evening-party of Adolphine's: where is it, where is it?”

”It's gone, it's gone!” Gerrit noisily declaimed. ”Adolphine's charm is gone!”

”I don't think either of you at all nice!” Constance broke in, irritably. ”Tell me, my dear brothers, is this irony, this fault-finding tone, usual among us? Has it become a custom for the brothers and sisters to carp and cavil at one another--and even for Mamma to cavil at her children--as I have heard you all do to-night? Does each of us criticize the other in a general cross-fire of criticism? I heard something of the kind at Bertha's party; but is there really nothing good here to-night? I feel bound to tell you I think you very petty, provincial, narrow-minded and cliquey: even you, Paul, for all your philosophy! You, Gerrit, are afraid of demeaning yourself by allowing yourself to be introduced to a few of Dijkerhof's uncles and aunts, whom perhaps you won't see three times again as long as you live; and, as for you, Paul, why are you so spiteful in your comments on absolute strangers who don't eat a cake in the exact way which you approve of? I think Uncle Ruyvenaer ridiculous: he's not particularly well-bred himself and he sneers at the breeding of Van Saetzema's friends; I think Cateau ridiculous: she hasn't the faintest pretensions to smartness, though her clothes may be good and substantial, and she criticizes Adolphine's smartness....”

”O dear, gentle soul!” said Paul, affectedly, and took Constance' hand.

”O proud and n.o.ble one! O heroine in a sacred cause! You are a revelation to me! How broad are the principles which you proclaim, how great your tolerance! It is terrible! Only you, you dear, gentle soul, are not so sparing of the criticism which you criticize in us.”

”Very well, I criticized you, for once; but you're criticizing others everlastingly.”

”No, not quite; but we're only very small people and we think it fun to pa.s.s remarks on others,” said Gerrit.

”I am a very small person, like yourselves. I have never met big people, in our 'set,'” said Constance, with a sneer. ”What is any one in our set _but_ small?”

”Good!” said Paul. ”Well done! You got that from me. But proceed, my fond disciple!”

”I am frightened!” said Constance, earnestly. ”You think I am only just exciting myself a little, but I'm frightened, I'm simply frightened. I hear so much criticism from the mouths of my relations on every side, criticism on a dress, on an evening-party, on a couple of utter strangers who happen to be friends of my sister's, that I am frightened of the criticism of my relations concerning myself, myself in whom there is so much to criticize.”

”Come, Sis!” said Gerrit, good-naturedly, restlessly stretching out his long legs.

”Mayn't I speak out my mind, to my brothers?” asked Constance. ”Have I come back to the Hague and to all of you, after being away for years, to behave as though nothing had happened to separate me from all of you who are dear to me?”

”O tender one!” said Paul. ”Hearken unto the words of wisdom of your younger brother! You're afraid of criticism, because you fear that, where so much criticism is pa.s.sed, in such a hot-bed of criticism as our family, you yourself will not escape a severe judgment. But let me tell you now that you don't know humanity, the humanity of small people.

Small people criticize--because they think it fun, as Gerrit says--criticize a dress, or an evening-party, but they never criticize life. To begin with, they're afraid to: small people are interested only in what is not serious, in what is really not worth while.”

”I don't believe you,” said Constance. ”That's a clever phrase, Paul, and nothing more. I am becoming distrustful. When I hear so much criticizing--even from Mamma--on Adolphine, I ask myself, 'What will my mother, what will my brothers and sisters find to say of me?...' Oh, perhaps it can't be helped; perhaps everything is insincere, in our set!”

”But not in our family,” said Gerrit.

”You say that, Gerrit, with a nice sound in your voice.”