“I’m going mad!” cried Marianne.
Emilie kissed her.
Old Mrs. van Lowe came slowly up the stairs, gallantly escorted by her grandson, and was met on the landing by her other grandson.
“Granny, Emilie’s wedding-dress has come and she’s going to try it on!” cried Marietje, excitedly.
“Am I in the way?” asked Constance.
“No, of course not, Constance,” said Bertha. “Come in.”
All the doors of the boudoir and bedroom were open. Louise came in—she usually kept out of the way at busy times—and, together with Bertha and the lady’s maid, shook out the white dress, which straightway filled the whole room with a snowy whiteness. . . .
“What is it, baboe?” asked Mrs. van Lowe.
“Njonja moeda asks if njonja besar would come upstairs,” repeated the baboe. “But perhaps if the kandjeng njonja besar[1] could come . . .” she added, piling on the titles out of respect for the old lady, who had once been the njonja besar Bogor.[2]
“Then I’ll go up,” said the old lady. “Constance, will you come too? . . .”
Very slowly, a little tired after the stairs, the old lady climbed up, with her hand on the baluster-rail. Constance followed her. On the top floor, there was a sudden draught; doors slammed.
