“Bertha, a little time ago, I was not backward in showing my affection for you all. Perhaps I asked too much in return; but, in any case, I was repulsed. And now I retire. That is all.”
“Constance, you don’t know how sorry we all are that the old aunts ... spoke as they did. They are foolish old women, Constance; they are in their second childhood. Mamma had to take to her bed, her nerves are still quite upset; she can’t bear to see her sisters now; and it sometimes sends her almost out of her mind. I have never seen her like it before. And we are all of us, all of us, Constance, very, very sorry.”
“Bertha, those two old women only yelled out at the top of their voices, as deaf people do, what the rest of you thought in your hearts.”
“Come, Constance, don’t be so bitter. You are hard and unjust. I swear that you are mistaken. It is not as you think. Let me show it to you in the future, let me prove it to you ... and please speak to Van der Welcke and write and tell me a day when we shall find you at home, so that Van Naghel can shake hands with Van der Welcke. He is not a young man, Constance, and your husband is under forty. It’s true, Van der Welcke has apologized and Van Naghel appreciates it, but that doesn’t prevent him from wishing to shake hands with Van der Welcke.”
“I’ll tell my husband, Bertha. But I don’t know that he will think it so necessary to shake hands, any more than I do. We live very quietly now, Bertha, and people, Hague people, no longer concern us. And Van Naghel only wants to shake hands because of people.”
“And because of the old friendship.”
“Very well, Bertha,” said Constance, coldly, “because of the old friendship: a vague term that says very little to me. What I wished for was brotherly and sisterly affection, cordial companionship. That is no longer possible: it was a foolish fancy of mine, which has gone forever. But, as I said, I shall speak to Van der Welcke.”
They came out into the hall; the maid was waiting at the door. It was raining. Bertha’s carriage was outside, had been sent to fetch her.
“Shall I drop you on my way, Constance?”
“No, thank you, Bertha; the fresh air will do me good; I’d rather walk.”