“No? . . .”
“It’s impossible! I have too many attacks to endure as it is, in the Chamber, in the press, everywhere; and I can’t do what you ask. You have made yourself impossible, to our Hague society, you and your wife, the wife of your former chief; and it’s simply impossible that I should receive you in my house on the same footing as my friends, acquaintances and colleagues. That is no reason why we should not continue to be brothers and sisters.”
“And do you think I would wish for or accept your brotherliness on those terms?”
“Then refuse it!” cried Van Naghel, himself losing his temper and forgetting to pick his words. “Refuse it; and all the better for me! I shall be only too glad to have nothing more to do with you. Your wife compromised me the other day by coming to Bertha’s reception, as if it were a matter of course . . .”
Van der Welcke clenched his fists:
“My wife,” he echoed, “compromised you? By coming to . . .?”
“Van der Welcke!” Paul entreated.
“Yes,” said Van Naghel. “She did.”
“Don’t you dare,” cried Van der Welcke, “don’t you dare to criticize my wife’s actions in any way!”
“Your wife compromised us,” Van Naghel repeated.
But Van der Welcke let himself go, unable to restrain himself any longer. He made a rush for Van Naghel, raised his hand:
