got married, cried when Emilietje accepted this chap. The fellow’s as stupid as my foot. . . . Those are neat socks of mine, aren’t they? . . . Yes, Connie, why do some people get married? Adolphine and Saetzema: why? I ask you, in Heaven’s name, why? Otto and Frances: why?”
She felt that he had it on his lips to say:
“And you and Van der Welcke: why?”
But he did not; and he ran on:
“Marriage is a terrible thing, I think. To pick out one among hundreds and say, ‘I’ll marry you, I’ll live with you, I’ll sleep with you, I’ll eat with you, I’ll have children by you, I’ll grow old with you, I’ll die with you: are you willing?’ Great God, Connie, how is it possible that people ever get married? It’s a toss-up always: I shudder when I think of it!”
“Paul, tell me: who are all these people?”
She knew hardly one of the acquaintances: some sixty people lost among the forty members of the family. This was the first time that she had “gone out” again at the Hague; and, although many of the guests had asked to be introduced to her, she had not talked much, had forgotten the names at once. Paul, greatly in his element, explained to her where the people had come from, to what set they belonged: people who did not know or never saw one another, or else did not bow although they knew one another, brought together at this wedding-party because one family knew the Van Naghels and the other the Van Ravens. It was doubtless because of
