CHAPTER THREE
Next morning Theo went in the landau to fetch his step-mother fromthe station at half-past eleven.
Van Oudijck, who was in the habit of taking the police-cases at thathour, had made no suggestion to his son; but, when from his office hesaw Theo step into the carriage and drive off, he thought it nice ofthe boy. He had idolized Theo as a child, had spoilt him as a lad,had often come into conflict with him as a young man; but the oldpaternal fondness still often flickered up in him, irresistibly. Atthis moment he loved his son better than Doddie, who had maintainedher sulky attitude that morning and had put no flowers in his wife'sroom, so that he had ordered Kario to see to them. He now felt sorrythat he had not said a kind word to Theo for some days and he resolvedto mend matters at once. The boy was scatter-brained: in three yearshe had been employed on at least five different coffee-plantations;now he was once more without a berth and was hanging around at home,looking out for something else.
Theo had not long to wait at the station before the train arrived. Heat once saw Mrs. van Oudijck and the two little boys, Rene andRicus--two little half-castes, as compared with himself--whom she wasbringing back from Batavia for the long holidays, and her maid, Oorip.
Theo helped his step-mother to alight; the station-master offereda respectful greeting to the wife of his resident. She nodded inreturn with her queenly smile. Still smiling, a trifle ambiguously,she allowed her step-son to kiss her on the cheek. She was a tallwoman, with a fair complexion and fair hair; she had turned thirtyand possessed the languid dignity of women born in Java, daughters ofEuropean parents on both sides. Something about her attracted attentionat once. It was perhaps her white skin, her creamy complexion, hervery light fair hair, her strange grey eyes, which were sometimes alittle pinched and always wore an ambiguous expression, or it mightbe her eternal smile, sometimes very sweet and charming and ofteninsufferable and tiresome. One could never tell at the first sight ofher whether she concealed anything behind that glance, whether therewas any depth, any soul behind it, or whether it was merely her lookand her laugh, both of them slightly equivocal. Soon, however, oneperceived an observant indifference in her smiles, as though therewere very little that she cared for, as though it would hardly matterto her should the heavens fall, as though she would watch the eventwith a smile.
Her gait was leisurely. She wore a pink pique skirt and bolero, a whitesatin ribbon round her waist and a white sailor-hat with a white satinbow; and her summer travelling-costume was very smart, compared withthat of a couple of other ladies on the platform, lounging in stifflystarched washing-frocks that looked like night-dresses, with tulle hatstopped with feathers! And, in her very European aspect, perhaps thatleisurely walk, that languid dignity was the only Indian characteristicthat distinguished her from a woman newly arrived from Holland.
Theo had given her his arm and she let him lead her to the carriage,the "chariot," followed by the two dark little brothers. She had beenaway two months. She had a nod and a smile for the station-master; shehad a nod for the coachman and the groom; and she took her seat slowly,a languid, fair sultana, still smiling. The three step-sons followedher into the carriage; the maid rode behind in a dog-cart. Mrs. vanOudijck looked out once or twice and thought Labuwangi unchanged. Butshe said nothing. She turned away slowly, languidly leaning back. Herface displayed a certain satisfaction, but especially that radiant,laughing indifference, as though nothing could harm her, as thoughshe were protected by a mysterious force. There was something strongabout this woman, something powerful in her sheer indifference; therewas something invulnerable about her. She looked as though life wouldhave no hold on her, neither on her complexion nor on her soul. Shelooked as though she were incapable of suffering; and it seemedas though she smiled and were thus contented because no sickness,no suffering, no poverty, no misery existed for her. An irradiationof glittering egoism encompassed her. And yet she was, for the mostpart, lovable. She was charming and prepossessing because she was sopretty. This woman, with her sparkling self-satisfaction, was loved,whatever people might say about her. When she spoke, when she laughed,she was disarming and, even more, engaging. This was despite, and,perhaps, just because of her unfathomable indifference. She tookan interest only in her own body and her own soul: everything else,everything, was totally indifferent to her. Unable to give anything ofher soul, she was incapable of feeling save for herself, but she smiledso peacefully and enchantingly that she was always thought lovable,adorable. It was perhaps because of the contour of her cheeks, thestrange ambiguity of her glance, her ineffaceable smile, the eleganceof her figure, the tone of her voice and her knack of always hittingon the right word. If at first one thought her insufferable, she didnot notice it and simply made herself absolutely charming. If anyonewas jealous, she did not notice it and just praised, intuitively,indifferently--for she did not care in the least--something in whichthat other had thought herself deficient. She could admire with thesweetest expression on her face a dress which she thought hideous;and, because she was so completely indifferent, she betrayed noinsincerity afterwards and did not gainsay her admiration. Her vitalpower was her boundless indifference. She had accustomed herself todo everything that she felt inclined to do, but she smiled as she didit; and, however people might talk behind her back, she remained socorrect in her behaviour, so bewitching, that they forgave her. Shewas not loved while she was not seen; but so soon as people saw her,she had won back all that she had lost. Her husband worshipped her;her step-children--she had no children of her own--could not helpbeing fond of her, despite themselves; her servants were all underthe influence of her charm. She never grumbled; she gave an orderwith a word and the thing was done. If something went wrong, ifsomething was broken, her smile died away for a moment ... and thatwas all. And if her own moral or physical interests were in danger,she was generally able to avoid the danger and settle things toher advantage, without even allowing her smile to fade. But she hadgathered this personal interest so closely about her that she couldusually control its circumstances. No destiny seemed to weigh upon thiswoman. Her indifference was radiant, was absolutely indifferent, devoidof contempt, or envy, or emotion: it was merely indifference. And thetact with which, instinctively, without ever giving much thought toit, she guided and ruled her life was so great that possibly if shehad lost everything that she now possessed--her beauty, her position,for instance--she would still contrive to remain indifferent, in herincapacity for suffering.
The carriage drove into the residency-grounds just as the policecases were beginning. The native assessor was already with VanOudijck in the office; the chief constable and the police led theprocession of the accused; the natives tripped along, holding on tothe corners of one another's jackets; but the few women among themwalked alone. They all squatted in waiting under a banyan tree, at ashort distance from the steps of the office. A messenger, hearing theclock in the verandah, struck half-past twelve on the great bell bythe lodge. The loud stroke reverberated like a brazen voice throughthe scorching mid-day heat. But Van Oudijck had heard the soundof the carriage-wheels and let the native magistrate wait: he wentto welcome his wife. His face brightened; he kissed her tenderly,effusively, asked how she was. He was glad to see the boys back. And,remembering what he had been thinking about Theo, he found a kindword for his first-born. Doddie, her little mouth still pouting andsulky, kissed mamma. Mrs. van Oudijck allowed herself to be kissed,resignedly, smilingly; she returned the kisses calmly, without coldnessor warmth, just doing what she had to do. Her husband, Theo and Doddieadmired her perceptibly, and audibly said that she was looking well;Doddie asked where mamma had got that pretty travelling-dress. Inher room she noticed the flowers, and, as she knew that Van Oudijckalways saw to these, she gently stroked his arm.
The resident went back to his office, where the assessor was waiting;the hearing began. Pushed along by a policeman, the accused cameone by one and squatted on the steps, outside the office-door,while the assessor squatted on a mat and the reside
nt sat at hiswriting-table. During the first case, Van Oudijck was still listeningto his wife's voice in the middle gallery, when the prisoner, defendinghimself, gave a loud cry of:
"No, no!"
The resident knitted his brows and listened attentively....
The voice in the middle gallery ceased. Mrs. van Oudijck had gone totake off her things and put on her native dress for lunch. She worethe dress gracefully: a Solo sarong, a transparent kabaai, jewelledpins, white leather slippers with a little white bow. She was justready when Doddie came to her door and said:
"Mamma! Mamma!... Mrs. van Does is here!"
The smile died away for a moment; the soft eyes looked dark.
"I'll come at once, dear...."
But she sat down instead; Oorip, the maid, sprinkled some scent onher handkerchief. Mrs. van Oudijck put up her feet and lay musing,after the fatigue of her journey. She found Labuwangi desperately dullafter Batavia, where she had spent two months staying with relationsand friends, free and untrammelled by obligations. Here, as the wifeof the resident, she had certain duties, though she delegated most ofthem to the secretary's wife. She felt tired in herself, out of sorts,dissatisfied. Despite her complete indifference, she was human enoughto have her silent moods, in which she wished everything at the bottomof the sea. At one time she suddenly longed to do something mad,at another she vaguely longed for Paris.... She would never let anyone see all this. She was able to control herself; and she controlledherself now, before making her appearance again. Her vague Bacchanalianlongings melted away in her fatigue. She stretched herself out atgreater ease. She mused, with eyes almost closed. Through her almostsuperhuman indifference a curious fancy sometimes crept, hidden fromthe world. She preferred to live in her bedroom her life of fragrantimagination, especially after her month in Batavia. After one ofthose months of perversity, she felt a need to let her vagrant,rosy imaginings rise like a whirling mist before her half-closedeyes. There was in her otherwise utterly barren soul as it were anunnatural growth of little azure flowers, which she cherished with theonly feeling that she could ever experience. She felt for no livingcreature, but she felt for those little flowers. It was delicious todream like this of what she would have liked to be if she were notcompelled to be what she was. Her fancies rose in a whirling mist:she saw a white palace, with little cupids everywhere....
"Mamma ... do come! Mrs. van Does is here, Mrs. van Does, with twostoppered bottles...."
It was Doddie, at the door. Leonie van Oudijck stood up and went tothe back verandah, where the Indian lady was sitting, the wife ofthe postmaster. She kept cows and sold milk. But she also drove othertrades. She was a stout woman, rather dark-skinned, with a prominentstomach; she wore a very simple little kabaai with a narrow band oflace round it; and she sat stroking her stomach with her fat hands. Infront of her, on the table, stood two small phials, with somethingglittering in them. What was it, Mrs. van Oudijck wondered: sugar,crystals? Then she suddenly remembered....
Mrs. van Does said that she was glad to see her again. Two monthsaway from Labuwangi. Too bad, Mrs. van Oudijck! And she pointed tothe bottles. Mrs. van Oudijck smiled. What was inside them?
With a great air of mystery, Mrs. van Does laid a fat, double-jointedforefinger on one of the jam-pots and said:
"Diamonds!"
"Oh, really?" said Mrs. van Oudijck.
Doddie, wide-eyed, and Theo, greatly amused stared at the stopperedbottles.
"Yes ... you know ... that lady's, of whom I spoke to you.... Shedoesn't want her name mentioned. Poor thing, her husband once a greatswell ... and now ... yes, so unfortunate; she has nothing left! Allgone. Only these two little bottles. Had all her jewels unset andkeeps the stones in the bottles. All counted. She trusts them to meto sell. Know her through my milk-business. Will you look at, Mrs. vanOudijck, yes? Lovely stones! The residen he buy for you, now you backhome again. Doddie, give me a bit of black stuff: velvet best...."
Doddie sent the seamstress to fetch a bit of black velvet from acupboard of odds and ends. A boy brought glasses with tamarind-syrupand ice. Mrs. van Does, holding a little pair of tongs in herdouble-jointed fingers, laid a couple of stones carefully on thevelvet:
"Ah!" she cried. "Look at that water, mevrouw! Ser-per-len-did!"
Mrs. van Oudijck looked on. She gave her most charming smile and thensaid, in her gentle voice:
"That stone is not real, dear mevrouw."
"Not real?" screamed Mrs. van Does. "Not real?"
Mrs. van Oudijck looked at the other stones:
"And those others, mevrouw," stooping attentively: then, in her mostcharming tones, "those others ... they too are paste."
Mrs. van Does looked at her with delight. Then she said to Doddieand Theo, archly:
"That mamma of yours ... oh, so shrewd! She sees at once!"
And she laughed aloud. They all laughed. Mrs. van Does returned thestones to the bottle:
"A joke, yes, mevrouw? I only wanted to see if you understood. I giveyou my word, of course: I should never have sold them to you.... Butthere ... look!..."
And now solemnly, almost religiously, she opened the other littlephial, which contained only a few stones, and placed them lovinglyon the black velvet.
"That one would be splendid ... for a pendant," said Mrs. van Oudijck,gazing at a very large brilliant.
"There, what did I tell you?" said the Indian lady.
And they all gazed at the diamonds, at the real ones, which came outof the "real" bottle, and held them up carefully to the light.
Mrs. van Oudijck saw that they were all real:
"I really have no money, dear mevrouw!" she said.
"This big one ... for a pendant ... six hundred guilders. [2] ... Abargain, I assure you, mevrouw!"
"Oh, mevrouw, never!"
"How much then? You are doing a charity if you buy. Poor thing,her husband once a great swell, Indian Council."
"Two hundred."
"Oh dear! What next? Two hundred guilders!"
"Two hundred and fifty, but no more. I really have no money."
"The residen!" whispered Mrs. van Does, catching sight of VanOudijck, who, now that the cases were finished, was coming to theback verandah. "The residen ... he buy for you!"
Mrs. van Oudijck smiled and looked at the sparkling drop of light onthe black velvet. She liked jewels, she was not altogether indifferentto diamonds. And she looked at her husband:
"Mrs. van Does is showing us a lot of beautiful things," she said,caressingly.
Van Oudijck felt an inward shock. He was never pleased to see Mrs. vanDoes in his house. She always had something to sell: at one time,richly embroidered counterpanes; at another time, a pair of wovenslippers; at another, magnificent but very expensive table-slips,with golden flowers in batik on yellow glazed linen. Mrs. van Doesalways brought something with her, was always in touch with the wivesof erstwhile "great swells," whom she helped by selling their thingsfor a very high commission. A morning call from Mrs. van Does cost himeach time at least a few rix-dollars and very often fifty guilders,for his wife had a calm habit of always buying things which she did notneed but which she was too indifferent to refuse to buy of Mrs. vanDoes. He did not see the two bottles at once, but he saw the drop oflight on the black velvet and he understood that the visit would costhim more than fifty guilders this time, unless he was very firm:
"Mevrouwtje!" he exclaimed, in dismay. "It's the end of the month:there's no question of buying diamonds to-day! And bottles fulltoo!" he added, with a stare, when he now saw them glittering on thetable, among the glasses of tamarind-syrup.
"Oh, that residen!" laughed Mrs. van Does, as though a resident werebound to be always well off.
Van Oudijck hated that little laugh. His household cost him everymonth a few odd hundred guilders above his salary; and he was livingbeyond his income, was in debt. His wife never troubled herselfwith money matters; for these more especially she reserved her mostsmiling indifference.
She made the diam
ond sparkle in the sun and shoot forth a blue ray.
"It's a beauty ... for two hundred and fifty," said Mrs. van Oudijck.
"For three hundred then, dear mevrouw...."
"Three hundred?" she asked, dreamily, playing with the gem.
Whether it cost three hundred or four or five hundred was all oneto her. It left her wholly indifferent. But she liked the stone andmeant to have it, at whatever price. And therefore she quietly putthe stone down and said:
"No, dear mevrouw, really ... it's too expensive; and my husband hasno money."
She said it so prettily that there was no guessing her intention. Shewas adorably self-sacrificing as she spoke the words. Van Oudijckfelt a second inward shock. He could refuse his wife nothing.
"Mevrouw," he said, "you can leave the stone ... for three hundredguilders. But for God's sake take your bottles away with you!"
Mrs. van Does looked up delightedly:
"There, what did I tell you? I knew for certain the residen wouldbuy for you!..."
Mrs. van Oudijck looked up in gentle reproach:
"But, Otto!" she said: "How can you?"
"Do you like the stone?"
"Yes, it's beautiful.... But such a lot of money! For one diamond!"
And she drew her husband's hand towards her and suffered him tokiss her on the forehead, because he had been permitted to buy hera three-hundred-guilder diamond. Doddie and Theo stood winking ateach other.