CHAPTER V
PAPA DERCKSZ had not left much behind him, but
Stefanie de Laders, the only child of the first
marriage, was a rich woman; and the reason why
old Mamma had only a little left of her first
husband’s fortune was because she had never
practised economy. Stefanie, however, had saved
and put by, never knowing why, from an inherited
proclivity for adding money to money. She lived
in a small house in the Javastraat and was known in
philanthropic circles, devoting herself prudently and
thriftily to good works. Lot and Elly found Aunt at
home: she rose from her chair, amidst a twittering of
little birds in little cages, and she herself had something
of a larger-sized little old bird: short, lean,
shrivelled, tripping with little bird-like steps, restless,
in spite of her years, with her narrow little shoulders
and her bony hands, she was a very ugly little old
woman, a little witch. Never having been married,
devoid of passions, devoid of the vital flame,
she had grown old unscathed in her little egoisms,
with only one great fear, which had clung to her
all her life: the fear of encountering Hell’s terrors
after her death, which, after all, was drawing
nearer. And so she was very religious, convinced
that Calvin knew all about it, for everybody and for
all subsequent ages; and, trusting blindly in her
faith, she read anything of this tendency on which
she could lay hands, from paper-covered tracts to
theological works, though she did not understand
the latter, while the former left her full of
shuddering.
“Quite a surprise, children!” Aunt Stefanie de
Laders screamed, as though Lot and Elly were deaf.
“And when are you getting married?”
“In three months, Aunt.”
“In church?”
“I don’t think so, Aunt,” said Lot.
“I thought as much!”
“Then you made a good guess.”
“But it’s not the thing. Don’t you want to get
married in church either, Elly?”
“No, Aunt, I agree with Lot…. May I say
Aunt?”
“Yes, certainly, child, say Aunt. No, it’s not the
thing. But you get that from the Derckszes: they
never thought of what might be in store for them
hereafter….”
The birds twittered and Aunt’s high-pitched voice
sounded aggressive.
“If Grandpapa could be at the wedding, I should
do it perhaps, for his sake,” said Elly. “But he’s
too old to come. Mamma Steyn doesn’t make a
point of it either.”
“No, of course not!” screamed Aunt Stefanie.
“You see, Aunt, you’re the only one in the family
who does,” said Lot.
He did not see Aunt Stefanie often; but, when
he saw her, it amused him to draw her out.
“And there’s no need to do it for my sake,” said
Aunt, self-righteously; and she thought to herself,
“They sha’n’t come in for a cent, if they don’t get
married in church and do the proper thing. I had
intended to leave them something: now I shall leave
everything to Harold’s grandchildren. They at
least behave properly….”
But, when Elly made as though to rise, Aunt,
who was flattered at having visitors, said:
“Well, stay a bit longer, come, Elly! I don’t
see Lot so often; and he’s his aunt’s own nephew
after all…. It’s not the thing, my boy….
You know, just speak out. I’ve done so from a
child. I’m the eldest: with a family like ours,
which has not always behaved properly, I have
always had to speak out…. I’ve shown a great
deal of tact, however. But for me, Uncle Anton
would have been quite lost, though even now he
isn’t always proper. But leave him to his fate
I will not. Uncle Daniel and especially Uncle
Harold, with their children: how often haven’t they
needed me!…”
“Aunt, you have always been invaluable,” said
Lot. “But you were not able to do much for Aunt
Thérèse: she turned Catholic; and that wasn’t due
to your influence, surely!”
“Thérèse is lost!” cried Aunt Stefanie, violently.
u I’ve long since given up having anything to do
with Thérèse…. But any one for whom I can
do anything … I sacrifice myself for. For
Uncle Harold I do what I can, also for his children;
to Ina I am a second mother, also to D’Herbourg:
now there’s a proper man for you; and Leo
and Gus are good and proper boys….”
“Not forgetting Lily,” said Lot, “who didn’t
hesitate to call her first-born son after you, though
I think Stefanus a queer sort of name!”
“No, you’ll never call your children after me,”
screamed Aunt, in between the birds, “not though
you get a dozen girls! What do you want me to
say, my boy? Uncle Harold’s family has always
shown me more affection than your mother’s family
has; I got most perhaps from the Trevelley children!
And yet God alone knows what your mother
owes to me: but for me, Lot, she would have been
lost! I’m not saying it to be unpleasant, my boy;
but she would have been lost, Lot, but for me!
Yes, you can feel grateful to me! You can see for
yourself, your dear Mamma, twice divorced, from
her first two husbands: no, Lot, that was anything
but proper.”
“My dear Aunt, Mamma has always been the
black sheep of our virtuous family.”
“No, no, no!” said Aunt Stefanie, shaking her
restless little bird-like head; and the birds around
her agreed with her and twittered their assent. “The
family’s not so virtuous as that. Generally speaking,
it has never been proper! I won’t say a word
against my mother, but this much is certain: she
lost my father too early. You can’t compare Papa
Dercksz with him.”
“Of course, there’s no comparing a Dercksz with
a De Laders,” said Lot.
“You’re being sarcastic!” said Aunt; and the
birds twittered their indignation in sympathy. “But
there’s many a true word spoken in jest. I’m not
saying it because of your mother, who’s a dear
child, whom I’m fond of, but all the other Derckszes,
with the exception of Uncle Harold, are …”
“Are what, Aunt Stefanie?”
“Are a sinful, hysterical crew!” cried Aunt
Stefanie, aggressively. “Uncle Anton, Uncle Daan,
Aunt Thérèse and, my boy though she’s not a
Dercksz, it’s in her blood your sister Ottilie as
well! They’re a sinful, hysterical, crew !” And
she thought, “Your mother’s one of them too, my
boy, though I’m not saying so.”
“Then I’m once more glad,” said Lot, “that my
Dercksz hysteria is steadied by a certain Pauws
calmness and sedateness.” And he thought, “Aunt’s
quite right, but it all comes from her own mother
… only it happened to pass over Aunt
Stefanie.”
But Aunt went on, seconded by the birds:
“I’m not saying it to say anything unpleasant
about the family, my boy. I daresay I’m hard, but
I speak out properly. Who speaks out properly in
our family?”
“You do, Aunt, you do!”
“Yes, I do, I, I, I!” cried Aunt; and all the
birds in all the cages twittered their agreement.
“Don’t go away just yet, stay a little longer, Elly.
I think it’s so nice of you to have come. Elly, just
ring the bell, will you? Then Klaartje will bring
a brandy-cherry: I make them after the recipe of
Grandmamma’s Anna; and she makes them properly.”
“Aunt, we must really be getting on.”
“Come, just one cherry!” Aunt insisted; and
the birds joined in the invitation. “Otherwise Aunt
will think that you’re angry with her for speaking
out….”
The brandy-cherries were tasted; and this put
Aunt in a good humour, even when Lot exclaimed,
through the- twittering of the birds:
“Aunt … have you never been hysterical?”
“I? Hysterical? No! Sinful, yes: I am sinful
still, as we all are! But hysterical, thank God, I
have never been! Hysterical, like Uncle Anton,
Aunt Thérèse and … your sister Ottilie, I
have never been, never!”
The birds could not but confirm this.
“But you’ve been in love, Aunt! I hope you’ll
tell me the story of your romance one day; then
I’ll make it into a very fine book.”
“You’ve put too much about the family into your
sinful books, as it is, for Aunt ever to tell you that,
though she had been in love ten times over. For
shame, boy! You ought to be ashamed of yourself
I Write a moral book that’s a comfort to read,
but don’t go digging up sinfulness for the sake of
describing it, however fine the words you choose
may be.”
“So at any rate you think my words fine?”
“I think nothing fine that you write, it’s accursed
books that you write! … Are you really going
now, Elly? Not because I don’t admire Lot’s books,
I hope? No? Then just one more cherry. You
should get the recipe from Anna, at Grandmamma’s.
Well, good-bye, children; and think over what sort
of present you’d like from Aunt. You can choose
your own, child, you can choose your own. Aunt’ll
give a present that’s the proper thing.”
The birds agreed and, as Lot and Elly took their
leave, twittered them lustily out of the room.
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