does Addie great credit. He's making a great reputation . . . with his hypnotism. Everyone wants to be hypnotized by him. I'm always hearing him praised."
"I'm so glad, Adolphine."
She went away, arranging to fetch Marietje in the afternoon and take her back to Driebergen. She had an open fly waiting: it was beautiful, mild weather; and the spring was weaving verdure in between the trees. But a heavy load lay on Constance' breast and she could have cried . . . because of her boy, because of Addie. She was going to ride to him now, at the other end of the town, the Emmastraat. She meant to lunch there and, when she had seen the grandchildren, to come back to Adolphine's. It was eleven o'clock. And she felt so much weighed down with sorrow for Addie, who came home to them looking more and more gloomy every week, that she could not, could not go to him yet . . . after all that Adolphine had said. . . . Oh, how she always loved saying things that jarred upon your nerves, things that hurt, things that grated against your soul! Did she do it purposely? Was she insincere? Or was it because she couldn't help it, because she was tactless . . . or, very likely, took an unconscious pleasure in hurting other people? . . . Oh, perhaps she did not know how much pain she gave! . . . But to go straight to Addie now, to Mathilde, was impossible. . . .
"Cabman, drive a little way through the Woods first."
The driver turned down the Javastraat, went along the Scheveningen Road and let his horse roam at will in the rides of the Woods. . . . Oh, the Hague was charming; she loved the Woods! Even as Addie loved Driebergen, with an innate inherited
