"Nothing at all," said Paul, philosophically.
[22] The Inspector.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
It was the middle of November; and Constance remembered that Bertha's second at-home day was on the third Tuesday of the month. The next number of the Dwarskijker was due in a day or two; and this, although she did not mention it again, left her practically no peace throughout that week, in her terror of printed words of spite and malevolence. And, as if to redeem her promise to Van der Welcke, she said that afternoon, at lunch, that she was going to Bertha's, as it was Bertha's day. He at once grasped her intention and, to tell the truth, was surprised that she had not given up her plan of pushing herself. He had rather imagined that the idea came to her in the nervous excitement produced by their conversation, but that she would not take it seriously after the excitement was past. He remembered that the family always looked upon those receptions at the Van Naghels' as something very official: Mamma van Lowe went to them once in a way; and Uncle and Aunt Ruyvenaer, although quite out of their element, used to put in an appearance once every winter, because they had done so at first, by mistake, and now did not exactly know how to stay away; but none of the other relations ever went. In the eyes of the family, those reception-days always retained a certain official importance and aristocratic exclusiveness; and Cateau, for instance, would say, very solemnly, to Karel that this was Ber-tha's day, with a certain respect for that day on which the upper two and three of the Hague sometimes put in an appearance, while Gerrit always joked about the inaccessible grandeur of those reception-days of her excellency his sister, as he called her in chaff....
Van der Welcke had it on his lips to ask Constance if Bertha knew that she was coming, or if Constance had at least mentioned her intention to Mamma van Lowe. But he did not feel in the mood to provoke a discussion; and in any case Constance would do as she chose. It was raining; he heard her tell the maid to order a carriage; and, as he was staying at home, to bore himself in Addie's absence in his little smoking-room, smoking cigarette on cigarette, he saw his wife step into the brougham at four o'clock and was struck with the elegance of her dress. He shrugged his shoulders, in gloomy disapproval; he was in a bad temper these days; he too was permanently upset by that rotten libel, that confounded rag, against which he had been helpless. He threw himself on his sofa again and smoked and smoked, could not make up his mind to dress and go to the Plaats, was almost unconsciously avoiding his friends.
Constance felt very calm, but had retained a certain bitterness all this time. The thought just occurred to her how Bertha would take her visit; but, even though the family treated the question differently, she meant to show Bertha that she considered it an obvious thing to call on her at-home day.
When her brougham stopped, she saw a couple of carriages waiting; the door was opened by the parlour-maid, even before she had rung; the butler, recognizing her, bowed, preceded her up the stairs, opened the door wide and announced her:
"Mrs. van der Welcke...."
Constance entered the drawing-room, where a few people, mostly ladies, were moving in the semi-darkness. But it was not so dark that she did not at once notice that Marianne looked at her in surprise, with such spontaneous, unconcealed surprise that it gave her something of a shock. She shook hands with Marianne with an easy smile and went up to Bertha; and Bertha also, as she very plainly noticed, was surprised and blinked her eyes as she rose. And Bertha, woman of the world though she was and accustomed to treat all manner of difficult drawing-room situations, seemed uncomfortable as she welcomed her sister: