Old People and the Things that Pass/Chapter XXVI

CHAPTER XXVI
THERE was another ring; and Anna, profoundly moved by the death of Dr. Roelofsz and moaning, "Oh dear, oh dear!" opened the door to Ottilie Steyn de Weert and Adèle Takma. Ina came out to them in the passage. They did not know of the doctor's death; and, when they heard and saw Daan and Harold in the morning-room, there was a general outcry&mdash;subdued, because of Mamma upstairs&mdash;and cross-questioning, a melancholy dismay and confusion, a consulting one with another what had best be done: whether to tell Mamma or keep it from her....

"We can't keep it from her for ever," said Ottilie Steyn. "Mamma doesn't even know about Mr. Takma ... and now there's this on top of it! Oh, it's terrible, terrible! Adèle, are you going up?"

"No," said Adèle Takma, shrinking, in this house, now that she knew. "No, Ottilie, I must go home, Mamma will have plenty of visitors without me."

She shrank from seeing the old lady, now that she knew; and, though she had walked to the house and walked in with Ottilie Steyn, she would not go upstairs.

"Ottilie," said Daan Dercksz to his sister, "you had better tell her ... about Dr. Roelofsz."

"I?" said Ottilie Steyn, with a start.

But, at that moment, some one appeared in the street outside and looked in through the window.

"There's Steyn," said Harold, dejectedly.

Steyn rang and was shown in. No one had ever seen him in so great a rage. He vouchsafed no greetings and marched straight up to his wife:

"I thought I should find you here," he growled at her, in his deep voice. "I've seen your son, who came over from London with you."

Ottilie drew herself up:

"Well?"

"Why need the arrival of that young gentleman be kept as a surprise for me to come across in the street?"

"Why should I tell you that Hugh came with me?"

"And what has he come for?"

"What has that to do with you? Ask him, if you want to know."

"When he makes his appearance, it's for money."

"Very well, then it's for money. Not your money, at any rate!..."

They looked each other in the eyes, but Steyn did not want to go on discussing money, because Ottilie had inherited a part of Mr. Takma's. Hugh Trevelley scented money, whenever there was any about; and it was not that Steyn looked upon his wife's money as his own, but, as old Takma's executor, he thought it a shame that his wife's son should be after it so soon.... He ceased speaking and his eyes alone betrayed his hatred; but Harold took his hand and said:

"Frans, Dr. Roelofsz is dead."

"Dead?" echoed Steyn, aghast.

Ina stared and pricked up her ears again. The afternoon had indeed been full of news. Even though she did not know about That, she was hearing other things: she had heard of the doctor's sudden death, heard that Aunt Thérèse was coming from Paris, heard that Hugh Trevelley was at the Hague. And now she had very nearly heard about the old gentleman's money. He must have left Aunt Ottilie something, but how much? Was it a big legacy? ... Yes, the afternoon had really been crammed with news; and her eyes forgot to look weary and glistened like the glowing eyes of a basilisk....

But the brothers were consulting Steyn: what did he think? Tell Mamma of Dr. Roelofsz' death, or keep it from her? ... They reflected in silence. Out of doors, it suddenly began to pour with rain, a numbing rain; the wind blew, the clouds lowered. Indoors, the red light of the stove, burning with a sound of gentle crackling behind the mica panes, gleamed through the falling dusk. Meanwhile the Thing passed ... and stared at Harold, stared into his eyes, which were almost closed with pain. The Thing! Harold had known it since his early boyhood; Daan had known it for a few months and had come home from India, to his brother, because of it; upstairs, because of the old woman, who knew it, Stefanie and Anton both guessed it, but both refused to know it, lest they should be disturbed in the pursuit of their own lives; but downstairs Adèle and Steyn also knew it, because of the letter torn into two, four, eight pieces, the letter which the old man had been unable to destroy. In Paris, Thérèse, who was coming to Holland, knew it; in India, the mantri knew it.... But no one spoke of the Thing ... which was passing; and Harold and Daan did not know that Adèle and Steyn knew; and none of them knew that Thérèse in Paris knew; and Steyn and Adèle did not know that the mantri in India knew, that Daan knew and that Harold had known so long.... But Ina knew about the mantri and knew that there was something, though she knew nothing about Adèle and Steyn and never for a moment suspected that they knew.... No one spoke of the Thing and yet the shadow of the Thing was all around them, trailing its veil of mist.... But the one who knew nothing at all and guessed nothing was Ottilie Steyn, wholly and sorrowfully absorbed in the melancholy of her own passing life: a life of adulation and fond admiration and passion, the tribute of men. She had been the beautiful Lietje; now she was an old woman and hated her three husbands, but she hated Steyn most! And, perhaps because she was so much outside the Thing's sphere, Harold gently took her hand and, obeying an unconscious impulse, said:

"Yes, Ottilie, you ... you must tell Mamma that Dr. Roelofsz is dead. It will be a great blow to her, but we cannot, we must not keep it from her. .... As for Takma's death, ah, Mamma will soon understand that, without any telling! ..."

His soft voice calmed the dismay and confusion; and Ottilie said:

"If you think, Harold, that I can tell her, I will go upstairs and try ... I'll try and tell her. ... But, if I can't do it, in the course of conversation, then I won't ... then I simply will not tell her...."

She went upstairs, innocent as a child: she did not know. She did not know that her mother, more than sixty years ago, had taken part in a murder, which that old deaf doctor had helped her to hush up. She knew that Takma was her father, but not that he, together with her mother, had murdered the father of her brothers, the father of her sister Thérèse. She went upstairs; and, when she entered the drawing-room, Stefanie and Anton rose to go, so that Mamma might not have too many visitors at a time.

For that matter, it did not tire the old woman to chat&mdash;or to sit with a visitor in cosy silence for a little while&mdash;so long as the "children" did not all come at once. She was still slightly elated with the young life which she had seen, with Lily van Wely's babies. She had talked about them to Stefanie and Anton, not knowing that the babies were their godchildren: no one had told her that; and she really thought that little Netta's name was Ottilitje and spoke of little Lietje: they knew whom she meant.

Ottilie Steyn was left alone with her mother. She did not speak much, but sat beside her mother, who had taken her hand.... Ah, she herself felt touched! There, in that empty chair, at which the old woman kept staring, old Mr. Takma would never sit again.... Her father! She had loved him as a daughter loves her father! She was inheriting a hundred thousand guilders from him; but never again would he put a hundred-guilder note in her hand, in that kind way of his.

It was as though the old woman guessed some of her daughter's thoughts, for she said, with a movement of her hand towards the chair:

"Old Mr. Takma is ill."

"Yes," said Ottilie Steyn.

The old woman shook her head mournfully:

"I don't expect I shall see him again this winter."

"He will get well again...."

"But even so he will not be allowed out...."

"No," said Ottilie, feebly. "Perhaps not, Mamma...."

She was holding the brittle, slender, wand-like old fingers in hers.... Downstairs, she knew, the brothers were waiting; Stefanie probably also; Ina too.... Adèle Takma had gone.

"Mamma," she said, all of a sudden, "do you know that somebody else is ill?"

"No, who?"

"Dr. Roelofsz."

"Roelofsz? Yes, I haven't seen him ... I haven't seen him for the last two days."

"Mamma," said Ottilie Steyn, turning her sorrowful little face&mdash;it was still a pretty face, with blue, child-like eyes&mdash;to her mother, "it's very sad, but ..."

No, she simply could not say it. She tried to withdraw her sentence, not to complete it; but the old woman had at once seized the meaning of those few words:

"He's dead?" she asked, quickly.

Her voice cut through Ottilie Steyn. She had not the strength to utter a denial: with a heart-rending smile on her face she nodded yes.

"A-ah!" sighed the old woman, overwhelmed.

And she stared at Takma's chair. Her old, dried-up eyes did not weep; they merely stared, intensely. She remained sitting straight up in her chair. The past heaved up before her eyes; there was a great buzzing all around her. But she remained sitting upright and staring before her.

"When did he die?" she asked, at last.

Ottilie Steyn told her, in a very few words. She was crying, not her mother. The old, old woman saw herself as she was, more than sixty years ago. It was then that she had given herself to Roelofsz, so that he should not speak.... He had not spoken.... He had remained her friend, loyally, for all those long, long years, had shared the hideous burden of the past with her and Takma. ... No, he had never spoken ... and they had grown so very old, without ... without anybody knowing.... Nobody knew it, not one of her children.... People had talked sometimes, in the old days, had whispered terrible things: that was past.... Everything passed, everything passed.... Nobody knew, except Takma himself, now that poor Roelofsz was dead. He had exacted a high price ... but he had always remained loyal....

Ottilie Steyn was crying, said nothing more, held her mother's hand.... It had grown very dark: the companion came in, to light the lamp.... The wind howled dismally; the rain dashed against the window-panes; a clammy dampness gave Ottilie an unpleasant sensation, as of something chilly passing over her in that room with its scanty fire, because the old woman could no longer bear a great heat. The hanging lamp above the table in the middle of the room cast down a circle of light; the rest of the room remained in shadow: the walls, the chair, the empty chair opposite. The companion had gone, when the old woman asked, suddenly:

"And and Mr. Takma, Ottilie?"

"Yes, Mamma? ..."

"Is ... is he ill, also? ..."

The daughter was startled by the expression on her mother's face; the dark eyes stared wide....

"Mamma, Mamma, what's the matter?"

"Is he ill ... or is he ... also ..."

"Ill? Yes, he's ill too, Mamma...." She did not finish....

Her mother was staring in front of her, staring at the empty chair opposite, in the shadow against the wall. Ottilie grew frightened; for her mother, stiffly and laboriously, now lifted a trembling arm from her lap and pointed with a slender, wand-like finger....

"Mamma, Mamma, what is it? ..."

The old woman stared and pointed, stared and pointed at the empty chair.

"There ... the-there!" she stammered. "There!"

And she continued to stare and point. She said nothing, but she saw. She did not speak, but she saw. Slowly she stood up, still staring, still pointing, and shrank back, slowly, very slowly.... Ottilie rang the bell, twice; the companion rushed into the room at once; from below came sounds of confusion, faint exclamations, Anna's "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!" and whispering voices. Ina, Daan and Stefanie came upstairs. But they did not enter the room; the companion made a sign that it was not necessary....

The old woman's stiff arm fell slowly to her side, as she stood.... But she was still staring and shrinking back, slowly....

She no longer seemed to see Ottilie in her horror at what she did see. And all that she said, with unseeing eyes, though the rest of her consciousness remained, was:

"To bed! ... To bed! ..."

She said it as though she were very, very tired. They put her to bed, Anna and the companion. She remained silent, with her thin lips pressed together and her eyes still staring. Her heart had seen and ... she knew. She knew that he, Takma, Emile&mdash;the man whom she had loved above everything, above everybody, in the dead, dead years&mdash;that he was dead, that he was dead....