Deep down within herself, no doubt, she knew that she had not married him for himself alone, that she had certainly thought it heavenly, she, a Smeet, plain Mathilde Smeet, to marry Baron van der Welcke . . . plenty of money . . . a smart match . . . even though the family no longer lived in the Hague. . . .
Baroness van der Welcke. . . . On her cards: Baroness van der Welcke. . . . A coronet on her handkerchiefs, a coat-of-arms on her note-paper: oh, how delicious, how delicious! . . . What a joy at last to order the gowns in Brussels, to get out of the poverty of her parents' home, which reeked of rancid butter and spilt paraffin, to shake it from her, to plunge and drown it in the past, that poverty, as you drown a mangy dog in a pond. . . .
Driebergen . . . well, yes. But it wouldn't always be Driebergen. She would back herself to coax her husband out of that patriarchy, to coax him to the Hague, where he would be the young, fashionable doctor: a fine house, smart acquaintances, a box at the Opera, presentation at court, Baroness . . . Baronne van der Welcke. . . .
She had two children now, a boy and a girl. It was irresistible; and yet she knew that she must take care and not let the nurse have too much of it:
"Geertje, have you washed the jonker's hands? . . . Geertje, I want the freule to wear her white frock to-day?"[1]
For she had noticed that the others never used the words in speaking to Geertje or to the maids, never said jonker or freule, always just simply Constant and Henriette, or even Stan and Jet; and so, when the others were there, she copied them and
- ↑ Jonker is the title borne by the sons of Dutch noblemen until they come of age, when, as a rule, they bear the same title as their father; freule is the title of all the unmarried daughters.
