“Come, Young Master, to Wonokromo now.”
My head throbbed as if it wanted to break open. I couldn’t stand up straight; my body went flabby. I quickly grabbed for the corner of the table. With my shaky vision I gazed at the fighter. Darsam grabbed me by the shoulder.
“Don’t be concerned. Sinyo Robert will not be able to worry you. Darsam still stands vigilant. Come.”
Miriam de la Croix vanished, evaporated into smoke, disappeared from circulation. The magical power of Wonokromo had regained control over everything. Aided by Darsam, these legs of mine carried me to the buggy waiting in front of the house.
“You’re not going to take leave from the people here?”
I came to a halt. I called out to Mrs. Telinga that I was excusing myself and was leaving. She stood at the door and did not seem at all happy.
“Don’t be away long, Young Master,” she reminded me. “Your health.”
“Young Master will recover quickly at Wonokromo,” answered Darsam.
Afraid of Darsam’s frightening appearance, she didn’t say anything more.
“Where are your things, Young Master?”
I didn’t answer. And I never found out whether I fainted in the buggy or not. All I knew was that all this had occurred as a result of Robert Suurhof’s invitation, and now so many people had become involved and this young life of mine had become so tense. All the time I heard just one voice, one sentence emerging from the Madurese fighter’s mouth: “This carriage and this horse are henceforth Young Master’s property.”
12
As soon as Darsam led me up the stairs, Nyai Ontosoroh came rushing out to greet me.
“You’ve gone too far, Nyo, we’ve been waiting and waiting so long for you. Annelies has fallen very ill longing for you!”
“Young Master was also ill, Nyai. I had to carry him here.”
“No matter. If the two of them get together again, everything will be all right. The sickness will disappear.”
Those words were so embarrassing, yet it already felt like they had started to work as an antitoxin, dissolving away the palakia in my head. Nyai caught me by the shoulder and whispered softly in my ear, smiling.
“Yes, your temperature is a bit high. No matter. Let’s go upstairs, child. Your little sister has had to wait too long. You didn’t even send news.”
She spoke so gently, it went straight to my heart. It was as if she was my own mother, my beloved mother, and I no other than her little boy, under her guidance. Yet my eyes kept glancing about here and there. At any moment Robert could leap out of the darkness and thrust a knife into me with those mighty muscles of his.
“Where is Robert, Mama?” I asked, as we climbed the stairs.
“Sst. You don’t need ask that. He’s his father’s son.”
Why did I become so malleable in the hands of this woman? Like a lump of clay that could be molded just as she wished? Why was there no fight in me? Even the will to fight was missing, as if she understood and had mastery over my inner self, and could lead me in the direction I myself desired?
The upstairs was far more luxurious. Almost all the floors of the corridor were covered with carpet. It felt as if I were a cat who could walk along without making a single sound. The open windows offered views that stretched far away out there into the distance. Paddies and fields and forest spread out everywhere, joined together one after the other. A small group of people were collecting the last of the harvest. The remaining paddy was still fallow, awaiting the beginning of the end of autumn.
The newspapers reported that there had been an abundant harvest that year. There was no need to import low-quality rice from Siam, even though the most fertile rice lands of east and central Java were, to all intents and purposes, producing only sugar. It was a sign, said one observer, that Queen Wilhelmina had been blessed by God as the youngest queen ever, at an age very young for a queen.
We stood in front of the bed. Nyai fixed the blanket that lay over Annelies. That girl’s breasts stood out underneath the blanket. And Nyai put her daughter’s hand into mine.
“Annelies, darling.”
With great effort the girl opened her eyes. She didn’t turn. She didn’t look. Her eyes, and that effort-filled look, were swept up to the ceiling, then they closed again.
“Minke. Nyo, child, take care of my sweetheart here,” whispered Nyai. “If you too are sick, then get well now. Carry my child to recovery with you.” It sounded as if she was praying.
She looked at me with almost begging eyes.
“It’s up to you, child. As long as my daughter recovers. . . . You’re educated. You know what I mean.” She bowed down as if embarrassed to look at me. Her two hands held my arm. All of a sudden she turned and left the room.
I felt for Annelies’s hands under the blanket. Cold. I brought my mouth close to her ear and called her name again and again, slowly. She smiled, but her eyes remained closed. Her temperature was not too high. And I knew then: The palakia tree inside my head had been flung out, plucked out with all its roots and seeds, crashing down to who knows where.
And she was so close to me. My heart began to pound rapidly, pumping hot blood all over my body, and I began to perspire.
“Come on, haven’t you been waiting for Minke to come?”
I didn’t know whether it was just my imagination, or if it really happened, but I saw her nod weakly. Her eyes and mouth remained closed.
“Do you miss him, Ann? Of course you miss him. He misses you too. Truly. If you only knew how much he longs to be always near you, Ann, to make you the adornment of his life, all the world would then be his, because his happiness is you, you alone. Open your eyes, Ann, because Minke is here now, with you.”
I heard Annelies sigh. Her eyes and lips remained closed.
Doesn’t this girl recognize my voice anymore? So I caressed her face, her cheeks, her hair. She tilted her head and sighed once more. Was she going to die? A girl as beautiful as this? I embraced her and I kissed her on her lips. The beat of the heart in her breast seemed too slow. Her fingers moved slowly, almost stilled.
“Ann, Annelies!” I finally cried into her ear. “Wake up, Ann,” and I shook her shoulders.
She opened her eyes and stared far into the distance, not seeing, and not reaching my face.
“Don’t you know me anymore, Ann? Me? Minke?”
She smiled. But she still stared right through me.
“Ann, Ann, don’t be like this. Aren’t you happy now Minke is back? I’ve come. Or must I go again and leave you? Ann, Ann, my Annelies!”
She must not die here in my embrace. I stood before the bed and wiped sweat from my dripping forehead.
“Keep going, Nyo,” Nyai encouraged me from the door. “Keep asking her to talk. That’s exactly what Dr. Martinet advised.”
I turned. Nyai was pulling the door shut from outside. Her encouragement calmed my anxiety. Annelies was not facing death. She just wasn’t conscious.
I sat on the edge of the bed. Her eyes were open but she didn’t see anything.
“You can’t go on like this, Ann,” I said, trying to convince myself as well. I pulled back her blanket. I pulled her up by her two hands. I forced her to sit up. But her body was so weak it fell back upon the pillow as soon as I let go of her. I tried again. She still couldn’t sit up.
What must I do now?
Once again I kissed her upon her lips. Her hands began to move almost imperceptibly, but a little more than they had done a minute ago. I shifted her head across to my left arm. I began again to try to get her to talk.
“If you’re sick like this, who’ll help Mama? There is no one else. So you mustn’t be ill. You must get better. So that you can work, and go walking with me. We can go riding, Ann, all around Surabaya.”
I looked into her eyes, which stared off into the distance, and I could see myself in the depth of her eyes. But she still didn’t see me. For a moment I thought my face was not even reflected in her eyes.
Nyai Ontosoroh came back, carrying two glasses of warm milk. One glass she put on the table. The other she brought over to me and put it up to my lips so that I would drink it down quickly.
“Drink it all up, Nyo, child, Minke.” I drank until it was finished and the glass was dry. “You must be healthy and strong too. A weak and ill person is of no use to anybody.” Then to Annelies: “Wake up, Ann, Minke is here with you now. Who else are you waiting for?”
Without waiting to see whether there was any reaction from Annelies, she left again.
There had been no change in the situation the next time Nyai returned, but this time she came with Dr. Martinet. I put Annlies’s head down on the pillow in order to be able to greet him.
“This is Minke, Doctor, who has been looking after Annelies today,” and we shook hands. Nyai observed us for a moment, then she continued, “Excuse me, I must go downstairs.”
“So you are Mr. Minke, the H.B.S. student? Excellent. Happy is any young man who obtains so deep a love from so beautiful a girl,” he said in mumbled Dutch.
“I have only been here an hour, Doctor. This was how Annelies was when I arrived. I’m worried, Doctor.”
The forty-year-old man let go a laugh, shook his head, and shook my shoulders.
“You like this girl? Answer frankly.”
“Yes, I do, Doctor.”
“You have no intention of playing foul with her, eh?” He fixed his gaze squarely upon me.
“Why would I do that?”
“Why? Because H.B.S. students have always been the favorites of the girls. It has always been like that, ever since the schools were founded. In Batavia too, and Semarang also. I repeat, Mr. Minke, you have only honorable intentions?” Seeing that I remained quiet, he went on: “There is only one thing needed by this girl: you, Mr. Minke. She has everything she needs, except you.”
I bowed my head. Confusion filled my breast. I had no intention of manipulating Annelies. But neither had I ever intended becoming serious about any girl. Now Annelies wanted all of me, totally, for herself. I was being tested by my own deeds. And it was my conscience that made me affirm things of which I was not yet really convinced.
“You want her to regain consciousness?”
“Of course, Doctor, I would like it very much, and would be very grateful if you make her better.”
“She will regain consciousness. I have been drugging her and waiting for you to arrive. So it is your fault that she has been drugged for so long. If I had left her conscious without you here, there is no telling what would have happened. If you hadn’t come back and I was forced to keep her drugged, it would have damaged her heart. It all comes back to you—you are the cause of it all.”
“Forgive me.”
“She has chosen you to be the one to accept all the risks.”
I didn’t respond. And he kept talking.
“She will be conscious again soon. About another quarter of an hour. When she starts showing signs of waking, you must begin talking to her, just pleasant, happy things. Don’t speak harshly or roughly. Everything depends on you. Don’t disappoint her. Don’t make her lose confidence or become afraid.”
“Very well, Doctor.”
“You passed this year’s exams?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Congratulations. Wait on her until the drugs wear off. What is your family name, if I may ask?”
“I have none, Doctor.”
He cleared his throat. His eyes swept over my face for just a moment. Then he went over to the window, and looked out onto the fields and the garden beside the house.
“Come over here,” he invited without turning.
And I stood beside him at the window.
“Why do you hide your family name?”
“I don’t have one.”
“What is your Christian name?”
“I don’t have one, Doctor.”
“How is it possible that you’re in the H.B.S. and have neither family nor Christian name? You don’t mean to tell me that you’re a Native?”
“Yes, I’m a Native, Doctor.”
He glanced at me. He stood silently for quite a while, perhaps trying to convince his own heart of something.
“One more question, if I may. Do you feel you can remain friendly and sincere with Annelies?”
“Of course.”
“Forever.”
“Why, Doctor?”
“Have pity on this child. She cannot face violence or harshness. She dreams of someone who will love her, who will give her pure love. She feels like she is living alone, by herself, without knowing the world. She has put all her hopes for the future in you, Mr. Minke.”
He was no doubt exaggerating.
“She has a mother who guides her, educates her, who loves her,” I said.
“She doesn’t fully believe that her mother’s love will last. She waits in anticipation for that moment when her mother will explode and reject her.”
“Mama is a very wise woman, Doctor.”
“That cannot be denied. But Annelies cannot convince herself of that. Possibly, secretly, Annelies sees her mother as being more attached to the business than to her. This is just between the two of us. No one else need know of this conversation. You understand.”
He was silent again for quite a while. Suddenly:
“So you understand?”
“I think so.”
“There must not be any hard, harsh, disappointing words. She loves you. I speak to you like this, first of all, because Native men are not used to treating their women gently and politely, as friends and with sincerity, at least as far as I know, according to what I’ve heard and read. You have studied European civilization, so you no doubt know the difference between the attitudes of European and Native men towards women. If you are the same as most other Natives, this child will not live long. Quite frankly she could fall into a living death. If it came about, if, I say, you married her, would you take a second woman at some later stage?”
“Marry her?”
“Yes, that is what she dreams of. That you will marry her, yes? You’re in your last year at school, aren’t you?”
“I’ve no desire to propose yet, Doctor.”
“If necessary I will propose on your behalf in order to save this girl.”
I couldn’t say anything.
“So you will marry her and will not take a second woman.” He put out his hand to obtain the certainty of a promise from my lips.
I took his hand. I had never intended to take more than one wife. I always remembered the words of my grandmother: Every man who takes more than one wife is a liar, and will certainly become a liar whether he wants to or not.
“Her heart is too soft, too gentle. She can’t cope with hurt. You must always humor, caress, protect her. It seems her self has been taken from her.”
“Taken from her?”
“By someone very close to her.”
“Who, Doctor?”
“I don’t know. You will find out for yourself. Something around here, for certain. There are many secret, suppressed problems within her young heart. She lives, in fact, as an orphan. She feels permanently dependent. Even here in her own private world, there is no one she can rely on. She needs someone who will support her. Having grown up in the middle of wealth, she doesn’t appreciate the security it gives. For her, wealth is nothing. That is what I can understand about this child. You’re listening, yes?”
Dr. Martinet took his monocle out of his top pocket and put it in his right eye. After looking at his watch, he stared at me.
“Thank you for listening so earnestly. Look at the calm and peaceful view from here. It is lucky that this girl lives in the middle of luxury and peace. I don’t know what would happen otherwise.”
The palakia tree seed in my head was replaced by another type of seed: suspicion. What did the doctor really mean?
“Excuse me. I’m not a psychologist. I’ve spoken a lot with her mother—an amazing woman. She is a m
ature and civilized person. She has real strength of character, reinforced by the hardness of someone with revenge still in her heart. Just for her, as a woman, to be so educated, is extraordinary. Even in Europe it would be an astounding feat. I don’t think she has developed in this way consciously. One or indeed many experiences have been the motor behind these changes. I don’t know what they might have been. Her heart is very hard, her mind very sharp, but in all this it is her own success in all her endeavors that has made her into such a strong individual, and so daring. But she has one big failure in a certain matter. It’s understandable: Every self-educated person has a failure that stands out.”
Dr. Martinet didn’t continue. He hoped that I would seek for myself the meaning of his words.
“She’s beginning to regain consciousness, your Annelies,” he said all of a sudden. He looked over towards her, left me, and approached his patient. He checked her pulse, then he waved to me. “Yes, Mr. Minke. In a few minutes she will return to being the Annelies you knew before. May she return to complete health now that you are here again. From this moment on, this girl is no longer my patient but yours. Everything I have told you is between us alone. Good afternoon.”
He left the room, closed the door behind him, and disappeared from sight.
Now the moment had arrived when I could feel sorry for myself. Yes! One after the other over these last few days new experiences had fallen upon and rocked me. And now there was a new one that I had to face: Annelies.
Great artists, Minke, said Jean Marais once, whether they are painters or something else, or leaders, or generals, become great because their life has been crammed with and based upon profound, intense experiences: emotional, spiritual, or physical. He had said this after I had finished telling him the life story of the Dutch poets Vondel and Multatuli. Without such profound experiences, greatness is purely imaginary: Their greatness is whistled up by the money-minded people of the world.
Jean Marais did not know that my own writings had begun to be published. If his words are true, I thought, maybe one day I could become a great writer like Hugo, as Nyai hoped. Or a leader, or a teacher of a nation as hoped by the de la Croix family. Or perhaps I will end up as rotting flesh just as Robert Mellema (if Darsam’s story was true) and Fatso planned.