“You are not mistaken, General. My grandmother and her children had to live on the pension allowed the widow of Baron d’Hermaele, and this pension ceased with her life.”
“And did the king do nothing for the daughters?”
“What would you expect from him, uncle? The only son was promoted and rewarded, but he died in the flower of his age. It was impossible for the young ladies to keep William II. in constant recollection of their father’s loyalty. Besides, we decided not to petition or supplicate for favours, preferring to rely on our own energies and self-help. This principle was instilled into me whilst I was young.”
“You surprise me. But is there not a Van Zonshoven Minister for Foreign Affairs in the present Government?” asked the General. “He must be a rich man, I fancy. What is your relationship to him?”
“He is my uncle; but I esteem him little. He is married to the coffee-coloured daughter of a rich Java merchant—for her money, of course. She is neither intelligent, amiable, nor educated; and indeed, has got little from him in return for her money except the right to bear his name and title.”
“A pitiful mésalliance, certainly! But for you the consequences are a rich and childless uncle?” he observed by way of a query.
“Yes, and he is already old. But, unfortunately, I am estranged from him, for I consider it beneath my dignity to beg favours from him.”
The General shook his head. “There spoke the blood of the Roselaers.”
“No, General, the Van Zonshovens are not vindictive, but proud. Though poor, I have always prized my independence above all things. I have lived soberly, and never indulged in pleasures above my means; consequently I have not been forced to sacrifice my liberty, which, to tell you the truth, is dearer to me than my patent of nobility.”
“Bravo! bravissimo!” resounded in my ears from the bottom of the room; and it came from the deep, clear voice of Francis, who had been entering the room as I spoke these words.