It was a cloudy day in early June, and still quite chilly. The bleak light coming in through the window showed up the decaying opulence of the room. Paul was a little discomfited by the faded, old-fashioned drapes, the threadbare chair covers and ancient Deventer rugs, and had on several occasions tried to persuade his mother to redecorate her home, but without success. So he had resigned himself to the situation, for he realised that Madame van Raat, at her age, would not feel at ease with a more modern style, and also that each timeworn object in her home was aglow with memories and associations that she held dear and wished to surround herself with for the rest of her days.
As he savoured his chicken and Hochheimer his thoughts took a philosophical turn. Life was not so bad at all, he mused, and he could not imagine why he had ever felt differently. His student days floated into in his mind, chiefly as a time of youthful waywardness, but there was also Uncle Verstraeten hovering in the background, urging him to sit one exam after another. All those exams — there had seemed to be no end to them! On the other hand, it was just as well his uncle had kept such a stern eye on him. Because what would he have achieved otherwise? Had he been left to his own devices, free to do as he pleased as he was nowadays, he would probably still be a student! After graduating he had gone through that period of artistic ambition, and what a disillusion it had been to discover that he had insufficient talent for either painting or music! Well, he had got over all that; he no longer painted, no longer sang, and, thank God, no longer suffered despair at his piteous lack of creative genius. Now his sole aim was to enjoy life for its own sake, to lead a comfortable, heedless existence, indulging his spendthrift inclination — which he did with gusto — and sure enough, he found himself more energetic and in better spirits than he had ever been before, either as a student or an aspiring artist. Pursuing his materialistic and epicurean tastes gave him a sense of hearty well-being, indeed, he sometimes felt rather like a young bull frisking in a sun-drenched meadow at the height of summer! Thus he mulled over his transformation from what Betsy had been known to call a ‘feckless fatty’, into the devil-may-care, fun-loving young blade he was today. His meditations did not run deep, however; he was merely letting his thoughts roam for want of a conversation partner at his breakfast table.
Having eaten his fill, he lit a cigar and looked idly about him. Through the window he caught a glimpse of Aunt Verstraeten and Marie passing by; a moment later the doorbell rang. Knowing how slow Leentje was getting in her old age, he answered the door himself.
‘Ah, good day, Aunt, good day, Marie.’
‘Good morning to you, Paul. Is your mama in?’ enquired Madame Verstraeten.
‘I expect she is, Aunt, but to be honest I haven’t seen her. I got up rather late, you see.’
They went upstairs together and found Madame van Raat in her dimly lit room at the back; she was sitting by the window with her hands folded on her lap, gazing into the garden. A book by Gustave Droz, Tristesses et sourires, lay open on the table beside her. She rose to welcome her visitors; kisses were exchanged, after which Paul, too, planted a kiss on his mother’s cheek. When they were all seated Madame van Raat asked after Lili and Georges.
‘They are very well. Apparently, they ran into Eline at the home of some French relatives of Vere’s wife,’ reported Madame Verstraeten. ‘They seem to be enjoying Paris very much, although in her letter Lili did mention that she couldn’t wait to move into their new home!’
Curling his lip sarcastically beneath his moustache, Paul gave an almost imperceptible shrug.
‘Such dear young things!’ smiled Madame van Raat. ‘Their little abode is nearly ready, then, I take it?’
‘Nearly, Aunt,’ replied Marie. ‘I pop in there every day, and I keep finding things that still need seeing to. Actually, I ran into Emilie there a few times, too — she has a spare key, you know.’
‘How touching!’ said Paul. ‘The doting sisters!’
‘There’s nothing touching or doting about it,’ retorted Marie loftily. ‘We happen to think it good fun to put our doll’s house in order, as we call it. But you wouldn’t understand such simple pleasures, would you? By the way, you said you had got up late — and at what time would that have been, then?’
‘Ah, checking up on me now, are you?’
‘Go on then, what time was it? Or is it too embarrassing to tell me?’
He responded facetiously, and again caught Eline’s name being mentioned by the ladies.
‘Oh, they find Eline very gay and winsome — well, quite the way we always thought of her, too, didn’t we?’ said Madame Verstraeten. ‘They dined with those French people, apparently. And Eline has turned into a proper Parisienne, Lili said, didn’t she Marie?’
Marie gave a faint smile. She pictured Eline, and in her mind’s eye Otto appeared beside her.
‘Yes, Eline mentioned Georges and Lili in her letter to me too,’ observed Madame van Raat.
‘What’s that? Did you get a letter from Eline, Mama?’ exclaimed Paul. ‘And you never said a word about it to me!’
‘My dear boy, I have not seen you since dinner yesterday evening. And yes, this morning I received a very sweet letter. She is very pleased that I asked her to come and live with me. Poor child, she tells me she feels very lonely amongst all those strangers, however kind they are to her. She says she’s relieved to be able to settle down at last.’
‘So she’s coming to live here, with us?’ said Paul. ‘Such a shame I’m just moving out!’
‘You were always very fond of Eline, weren’t you, Aunt?’ said Marie. ‘What an excellent idea to invite her to stay with you.’
‘Yes, dear, I agree. I think it will be for the best,’ sighed Madame van Raat. ‘Besides, the idea of engaging some lady’s companion does not appeal to me at all, and having a sweet, considerate girl like Eline, who is part of the family after all, to keep me company is a different proposition entirely. I am so glad you approve, because I confess I did have some concerns at first.’
‘Betsy seems to take a positive view of it too, at least so I have heard,’ said Madame Verstraeten.
‘That does not surprise me. Eline wouldn’t dream of going back to live in their house, and with her coming to live here Betsy needn’t worry about any talk of a rift between her and her sister.’
‘A solution satisfactory to all parties,’ said Paul, rubbing his hands. ‘All is well with the world, then, which is just how I like it.’
Madame van Raat, shocked by her son’s playful tone, looked at him sharply. Just then there was a knock at the door and old Leentje came in to announce that the carriage was waiting.
Paul rose.
‘Much obliged, beauteous Helen! My dear Aunt, would you care to join me for a drive? It’s such a fine day.’
His aunt declined his offer, as she had some calls to make.
‘You could drop me off at Atjehstraat, if you wouldn’t mind,’ suggested Marie. ‘There’s something I need to do there anyway.’
He declared himself willing to conduct his beloved cousin to the North Pole if need be, and they departed together.