To my father, in his then feeble state of health, the news of his brother’s death proved so great a shock, that he was unable to leave his room for a whole week. During that time, however, our aunt behaved most affectionately, not only to the invalid and his boys, but, I may add, to our pretty cousin Marie, her step-daughter, with whom we were now permitted to associate on the most cousinly terms; and, although this did not metamorphose my dislike into love for her, it had a great effect upon my poor father,—so great, indeed, that, with a delicacy of feeling quite in accordance with his nature, he awaited a full week after his recovery before he would broach the subject of his late brother’s will. Doubtlessly he each day expected that she herself would open up the matter, but in this he was disappointed; therefore he, one afternoon, but in a spasmodic manner, as if to get the words from his lips as speedily as possible, begged permission to see a copy of the will; but, vexatiously enough, as she was about to reply, the servant announced, “Mynheer Ebberfeld.”
My father looked annoyed; I started in my chair, for eyes never rested upon a more ill-favored man. “My lady,” however, seemed pleased at his coming, for, after introducing him as the principal notary of Batavia, and a councilor, she said:
“My dear brother, Mynheer Ebberfeld’s coming at this moment is most fortunate; for, as he drew up my late dear husband’s will, he is the most fitting person to explain its provisions.”
“Your pardon, madam; your pardon, sir,” replied the notary, with a low bow, and a simper upon his sinister countenance, “but this hour, and this presence, is scarcely fitting, nay, most inopportune, for business matters; let me, therefore, crave your patience until to-morrow, and then we will together scan the pages of the precious document itself. In the meantime, let me assure you that you will find its contents by no means unsatisfactory to yourself and sons.”
“Nay, mynheer, my brother is naturally anxious to become acquainted with the will, so I pray you let not etiquette deny him that satisfaction,” said “my lady,” with one of her most amiable smiles.
“Not so,” interposed my good-natured father; “since Mynheer Ebberfeld deems the time, place, and presence improper, I by no means desire him to proceed; to-morrow will be time sufficient.”
“Thanks, mynheer, for your concession; a European gentleman I felt would be too chivalrous to refuse so reasonable a suggestion,” replied Ebberfeld.
Of the young people of the family, I alone had been present during the foregoing conversation; but, at its close, the urbane notary, with amiable earnestness, begged and obtained permission of the lady to invite, “for that day only,” as the playbills have it, Marie, as well as my brother, to a seat at the dinner table.
“The society of young people,” said he to my father, “makes me feel a boy again; it is a passion with me to see them happy. I delight in contributing my poor share towards their amusement. Thus, my lad,” he added, addressing me, “knowing that you have just arrived from America, I ordered a serpent-charmer to exhibit his tricks in the grounds after dinner; that is, if I have madame’s permission;” and the genial smile with which he asked, and “my lady” bowed her acquiescence to this scheme for our benefit, for an instant made me think I had been positively wicked in feeling a repugnance at first sight to two such amiable personages.
The dinner was served in a gorgeously decorated pavilion in the grounds at the back of the mansion; and, in addition to roast and boiled meats, after the Dutch fashion, consisted of a variety of Javanese fish, and a large dish of that famous bird’s-nest soup, of which the Chinese have a proverb: “That if the spirit of life were departing from the nostrils, and the odor of this nest-soup were to salute them, the spirit would reanimate the clay, knowing there is no luxury in Paradise to compare with it.”