But suddenly an access of nervousness seemed to startle her out of her depression. She looked round again, as though seeking for somebody ... somebody to say something to. Her glance fastened for a moment on Aunt Lot and then on Constance. Suddenly she rose, with a little laugh, as though she wanted to speak to Louise, farther away. But the nervous pressure of her hand seemed to be urging Constance also to get up, to go with her, somewhere, anywhere.... They went through the other drawing-room, past the card-table at which Uncle, Adolphine, Karel and Dotje were sitting, past the other with Cateau, Van Saetzema, Dijkerhof and Pop; and the conversation at both tables at once flagged; the cards fell hurriedly one after the other.... They were talking about Bertha, thought Constance, as Bertha drew her gently to the little boudoir, the room where the wine and cakes were set out, where Papa van Lowe’s portrait hung, stern and inexorable; the little room where they all of them went when they had anything confidential to say to one another, when there was a scene, or a difference, or a private discussion. And Constance at once remembered how, five months ago, she had appealed to Van Naghel and Bertha in this very room; how they had refused to receive her “officially” at their house; how Van der Welcke had lost his temper, flown into a rage, made a rush for Van Naghel.... She was now here with Bertha once more; and Papa’s portrait stared down coldly and severely upon the two sisters.
They looked at each other in silence. Bertha glanced round timidly: she felt that, in the big drawing-room, at the card-tables, the brothers and sisters had at once begun to talk again, criticizing her, because she had retired for a moment with Constance ... with Constance. And, lowering her voice to a hardly audible whisper, she murmured:
“Constance ... Constance ...”
“Help me ... help me ... be kind to me.”
“But what’s the matter?”
“Oh dear, nobody knows about it yet, but I can’t keep it all ... here ... to myself!”
“Tell me what it is and what I can do.”
“I don’t know what you can do. But, Constance, I felt I had to ... had to ... tell you....”
“Tell me then.”