Baboe Dalima; or, The Opium Fiend

by M. T. H. Perelaer

“No,” replied Dalima, “No, not all night; Allah has been my protection and—”

“So, so! That gadabout has come home at last, has she?” cried a voice which caused both the girls to start with terror.

It was Anna’s mother, who just then came into the pandoppo without having been noticed either by her daughter or by Dalima.

She came straight from her bathroom as was evident from the rich black hair which flowed waving down her back, and had completely wetted the kabaja she wore, while she had covered her neck and shoulders with a bathing-towel of the finest material.

Bending her head backwards she drew the towel from under her hair and handed it to the nènèh (old Javanese woman) who followed her, with the order to go and dry it immediately.

Madam Laurentia van Gulpendam, whose maiden name was Termolen, was a stately matron, fully thirty-five years of age, and was still extremely beautiful. Years and maternity had not made much impression upon her charms. She had but one child, Anna, and fearing that the natural duties of a mother might impair her beauty, she had confided her daughter to the care of a nurse. In spite, however, of all precautions, the influence of time was now beginning to make itself felt, and though it could not be denied that Laurentia carried the load of years proudly enough, yet lately she had found the necessity of bringing certain powders and certain mysterious toilette-confections into requisition, to help out the somewhat fading complexion and (to use an elegant expression of her husband who had had something to do with the sea, and was always interlarding his conversation with nautical terms) to caulk here and there an indiscreet, and too obtrusive wrinkle. Here and there also a silver thread might have been detected among the wealth of jet-black hair, had not the Nènèh Wong Toewâ, been anxiously watchful, and at its very first appearance plucked out the traitor. The finely formed lips also had begun to lose somewhat of their bright carnation; and the corners of the mouth were beginning to droop. But for these tokens of advancing age also, the nènèh was on the watch. For preserving the mouth she had a sourish kind of fluid prepared from the red ant which she used as “vinaigre de toilette,” and for the wrinkles she had an ointment made of the fat of lizards, in which when boiling hot sundry scorpions and centipedes had met a painful death. But Nènèh Wong Toewâ was moreover an old, experienced doctoress, and she had many other wonderful secrets in her possession which she placed at the disposal of her mistress; and if the stately Laurentia still kept her lawful lord and master enthralled by her charms,—if the world around was still bound to confess that she was a fine woman,—if her waist, her shoulders, her bosom did still, in a ball-room, attract the greedy, admiring eyes of the men, and awakened envy among the ladies—then to Wong Toewâ a great share of these much coveted honours was due, and often from behind a screen the old crone would stand unobserved and enjoy the triumph of her mistress, and delight in the homage which followed her wherever she went.

Laurentia Termolen was the daughter of a former resident, and was an exceedingly handsome and agreeable girl when, at the tender age of sixteen, she became the wife of Mr. van Gulpendam who, at that time, was controller of the Home Department, and her father’s right hand. Though born in India she was of European parents, both on the mother’s and father’s side: and she had had the advantage of an excellent education, that is to say, large sums of money had been lavishly spent upon her. She had had the very best masters in language, in music, in dancing, &c., she had even been sent to Holland to receive the finishing touches. Now, under ordinary circumstances, she might—nay she would have developed into an excellent woman; but unfortunately for her, these ordinary and favourable circumstances were wanting. For both papa and mamma were people of inordinate ambition, and had, moreover, or perhaps in consequence of that ambition, one ruling passion, the love of display. They wanted to make a great figure in their little world, and to keep up an immense amount of outward show. But all this cost money, much money, very much money, and the means whereby they sought to obtain the necessary dross, were not always such as would bear honest scrutiny. From her earliest childhood, Laurentia had heard snatches of conversation, later on she had been present at incidents, and had witnessed family quarrels, in which dishonesty and prodigality strove for the mastery. Thus her young mind had, of necessity, been poisoned, and germs of corruption had been planted within her which were sure to bring forth the most lamentable results.

If now, in Holland, she had but fallen into good hands, all this might, to a great extent at least, have been remedied, and the poisonous germs within her might perhaps have been stifled or their growth might have been checked. But hers had been the case of so many Indian-born children. She had always been looked upon as an object of financial speculation, she had always been considered as a kind of gold mine which her parents intended thoroughly to work and make the most of. Thus a mere outward veneer of good manners and a mare “jargon de bon ton” were thought amply sufficient; and of true education and moral development there had, with her, never been any question at all.

Now, had but van Gulpendam been the right man for it, he might even at the time of their marriage have made a total change in the disposition of the young girl entrusted to his care. But van Gulpendam was a man who had gone to India merely to make his fortune, and had but one object, namely, to return as soon as possible, and especially as rich as possible, to his own country. He was therefore the very last man to set an example of honesty and purity, and his intimacy with the Termolens had done nothing to counteract the evil that was in him. Money-making was his only passion, and his union with fair Laurentia had only served to make that sordid principle strike deeper roots into his heart.

After her marriage Laurentia’s duty was to follow her husband, who took good care to obtain from his father-in-law none but places in the interior and most remote parts of the island. Thus he had become controller at Brandowo; after that, Assistant Resident at Bandjar Oetara; both of these places where hardly a single European could be found, and where consequently no one could watch the dodges and tricks of the official household.