CHAPTER XX
INA lay awake all night. Yes, curiosity was her
passion, had been since her childhood. If she could
only know now, now, now! Her husband would give
her no assistance, was afraid of complications which
might threaten, if they meddled with matters that
did not concern them. She herself was curious to
the point of imprudence. She now wanted to talk
to Uncle Daan, whom she was sure to meet next
day at Grandmamma’s….
She went that afternoon to the Nassaulaan. Old
Anna opened the door, glad that the old lady was
not neglected:
“Good-afternoon, ma’am…. Mr. Takma,
Dr. Roelofsz and Mrs. Floor are upstairs….
Yes, you can go up presently….. Thank you,
the old lady is very well indeed…. Yes, yes,
she’ll outlive us all yet…. Would you mind
waiting a minute, in the morning-room? We’re
keeping up a nice fire here now, in the cold weather;
for, though the mistress never comes downstairs, as
you know, there’s usually somebody of the family
waiting….”
Old Anna gave Ina a chair. The servant had
turned the morning-room into a comfortable waiting-room.
This secured that there was never too
much fuss around the old lady, which would not
have done at all. The closed stove burnt well. The
chairs were arranged in a circle. And the old
servant, from politeness, to keep Ina company, stood
by her for a moment, talking, till Ina said:
“Sit down, Anna.”
The old servant sat down respectfully on the edge
of a chair. That was a habit which visitors had
adopted with her, because she was so old. She
asked politely after Mrs. Lily’s little ones.
“The first really fine day, Mrs. van Wely will
bring the babies to see their great-great-grandmamma.
“Yes, the mistress will love that,” said the old
servant; but she jumped up at the same time and
exclaimed, “Well, I never! There’s Miss Stefanie
too! Well, they’re certainly not neglecting the old
lady!”
She showed Aunt Stefanie de Laders in to Ina
and withdrew to the kitchen.
“Mr. Takma, the doctor and Aunt Floor are
upstairs,” said Ina. “We will wait a little, Aunt.
… Tell me, Aunt, do you know why Uncle Daan
has really come to Holland?”
“Business?” said Stefanie, interrogatively.
“I don’t think so. I believe there’s something the
matter.”
“Something the matter?” said Stefanie, with
rising interest. “What sort of thing? Something
that’s not quite proper?”
“I can’t tell what it is exactly. As you know,
Papa never lets anything out.”
“Is Uncle Daan ruined?”
“I thought he might be, but Papa says positively
that there is no question of money. As to what it
is …”
“But what could it be?”
“There’s something.”
They looked into each other’s eyes, both of them
burning with curiosity.
“How do you know it, Ina? ”
“Papa is very much depressed since he’s seen
Uncle Daan.”
“Yes, but how do you know that there’s something
the matter?”
The need to talk overcame Ina’s prudence:
“Aunt Stefanie,” she whispered, “I really
couldn’t help it … but yesterday, when I went
to fetch Uncle Daan and Papa in Uncle’s study, I
heard … in the conservatory …”
Aunt Stefanie, eager to learn, tremulously nodded
her restless little bird’s-head.
“I heard … Papa and Uncle Daan talking
for a moment. Of course I didn’t listen; and they
stopped speaking when I went in. But still I heard
Uncle Daan say to Papa, ‘Have you known it all
this time?’ And then Papa said, ‘Yes, sixty
years.'”
“Sixty years?” said Aunt Stefanie, in suspense.
“That’s ever since Ottilie was born. Perhaps it
had to do with Ottilie. You know, Ina, Aunt Ottilie
is …”
“Takma’s daughter?”
Aunt Stefanie nodded:
“People used to talk a lot about it at one time.
They’ve forgotten it now. It all happened so long
ago. Mamma did not behave at all properly. Yes,
she has been very sinful.”
“Could that be what they were talking about?”
“No, I don’t think so. Uncle Daan knew all
about it. And Papa would not have said, ‘I’ve
known it for sixty years.'”
“No,” said Ina, lost in conjecture.
And her usually weary eyes were bright and clear,
in their effort to penetrate the vagueness of the
Thing which she saw.
“No,” said Stefanie, “it can’t be that.”
“What then?”
“Something … about Mamma.”
“About Grandmamma?”
“Yes, it’s sure to have been about Grandmamma….
Sixty years ago….”
“What a long time!” said Ina.
“I was a girl of … seventeen,” said Aunt
Stefanie. “Yes, it was a long time ago.”
“And you were seventeen.”
“Yes…. That’s when Papa Dercksz died.”
“Grandpapa?”
“Yes. He was drowned, you know.”
“Yes, it dates back to that time.”
“Yes…. What can it be?”
“Do you remember Grandmamma’s baboe?”
“I do. She was called Ma-Boeten.”
“She’s dead.”
“How do you know?”
“I heard it.”
“In the conservatory?”
“Yes, I heard it in the conservatory.”
“What else did you hear?”
“Ma-Boeten’s son is a mantri in the Tegal rent-office.”
“Well…?”
“Uncle Daan gives him money.”
“Money?”
“Either to speak … or to hold his tongue.
I believe it’s to hold his tongue.”
“Then can anything have happened?”
“Sixty years ago? Auntie, can’t you remember?”
“But, my dear, I was so young, I didn’t notice
things. I was a girl of seventeen. Yes, yes, Auntie
herself was young once. I was seventeen….
I and the other children had remained in the town:
a sister of Grandmamma’s was taking charge of us.
Papa had gone to the hills for his health. He and
Mamma were staying at a pasangrahan and—I remember
this now—they had taken Harold with
them. Yes, I remember, Harold was not with us.
They had taken him: Harold was Papa’s favourite.
…. It was there that Papa was drowned.
One night, in the kali. He was restless, could not
sleep, walked into the jungle, missed his way and
slipped into the river. I remember all that.”
“And Papa was in the pasangrahan with them?”
“Yes, your father was with them. He was a
little fellow of thirteen then.”
“And he has known, since then?”
“Is that what he says?”
“Then he must know something … about
the hills, about the pasangrahan….”
“Ina, what can it be?”
“I have no idea, Aunt, but it must be something
… about Grandmamma….”
“Yes,” said Aunt Stefanie, with sudden caution;
“but, whatever it is, dear … it happened so
long ago. If it’s anything, it’s probably something
… improper. Don’t let’s rake it up. It is so
long ago now, sixty years ago. And Grandmamma
is so old….”
She stopped; and her beady bird’s-eyes stared
and blinked. It was as if she suddenly saw something
looming, something that was coming nearer;
and she did not want to talk any more. She did
not even want to know. A shuddering anxiety,
mingled with a mist of vaguest memories, swam in
front of her blinking eyes. She would enjoin silence
upon it. It was not wise to penetrate too deeply
into the things of the past. Years passed, things
passed: it was best to let them pass quietly, to let
sin pass by…. The powers of Hell lurked
in sinfulness. Hell lurked in curiosity. Hell lurked
as a devil’s sabbath in Anton’s books and albums.
It lurked in her mother’s past. It lurked in Ina’s
devouring curiosity. She, Aunt Stefanie, was afraid
of Hell: she wanted to go to Heaven. She no
longer wanted to know what might have happened.
And she shut her blinking eyes before the mist of
remembrance and kept them closed:
“No, dear,” she repeated, “don’t let us rake it
up.”
She would not say any more; and Ina was certain
that Aunt knew, that Aunt at any rate remembered
something. But she knew Aunt Stefanie: she would
not speak now, any more than Papa would. Was
she on her guard? Oh, what was it, what could it
be?
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