CHAPTER VI.
Now and then old Madame van Raat came to drink a cup of tea at her son’s, in the Nassauplein; she was brought there in her brougham about half-past six, and was taken home about half-past nine.
This time Betsy was still up-stairs, probably with Ben, as Eline assured the old lady, although she knew that Anna the nurse usually put the child to bed.
She took Madame van Raat into the boudoir, where the soft light of wax candles fell from a small crystal chandelier on the violet plush of the chairs and couches, and was reflected through the many-coloured glass drops in the mirror opposite.
“And Henk?” asked the old lady.
“Oh, he is still dozing,” laughed Eline. “Stay, I’ll just go and call him.”
“No, no; let him be, poor boy!” said Madame van Raat. “Let him sleep, and have a little chat with me, child.”
She took her place on the sofa and looked smilingly at Eline, who sat down on a low settee by her side. Eline took the old lady’s thin, dry hand in hers.
“And how are you? All right? You are looking like a young girl to-day; so smooth I don’t see a single furrow on your forehead.”