Si-Oudijck looked up suddenly:
“Oh, is it really?” said he, speaking broken Dutch, Javanese and Malay in the same breath. “I can see it is: my legitimate one. And what does the fellow want?”
“He’s come to see what you’re like.”
The two brothers looked at each other: Theo inquisitively, rejoicing at having made this discovery, as a weapon against the old man, if the weapon ever became necessary; the other, Si-Oudijck, secretly restraining, behind his brown, crafty, leering face, all his jealousy, all his bitterness and hatred.
“Is this where you live?” asked Theo, for the sake of saying something.
“No, I’m just staying with her for the time being,” replied Si-Oudijck, with a jerk of his head towards the woman.
“Has your mother been dead long?”
“Yes. Yours is still alive, isn’t she? She lives in Batavia. I know her. Do you ever see her?”
“No.”
“H’m.... Prefer your step-mother?”