shares your opinion that I ought to have remained in Brussels, he’s only got to tell me so, in your name or in his own! Then I’ll send him my seconds!”
Van Saetzema came up at that moment.
“Then I’ll send you my seconds!” Van der Welcke repeated, blazing.
“For God’s sake, don’t, my dear fellow!” cried Van Saetzema, frightened to death.
And Adolphine began to clasp her hands together; she too was frightened and took refuge in a feeble exhibition of wounded vanity:
“He says I’m ill-mannered! He says I’m ill-mannered! The hound! The cad! I have to swallow everything! Every one says just what he likes to me!”
She was now really crying into her handkerchief. Everything in the two drawing-rooms seemed in one great ferment of excitement. On all sides, there were quick, hushed conversations, whispered words, nervous glances among the brothers and sisters and their juniors, the nephews and nieces; not a single quiet group had been formed; the card-tables remained untouched; and there was no one at the table in the conservatory where the children’s round games were played.
“Herman!” Mamma called out, almost querulously. “Aren’t you going to start a rubber?”
“Yes, do come along!” said Auntie Lot to Ruyvenaer, “Ajo,[1] shall we have a game? Come on, who’s going to play? . . . You, Saetzema? Come
- ↑ Hullo!
