‘I am not reproaching you for anything, my darling boy, there, there, don’t cry.’
‘Can’t you understand that some things are too painful to talk about? That it’s less painful to keep them to oneself?’ he murmured, clinging to her.
‘For a time, yes, but don’t you think you would feel a great deal better for having shared your sorrow with someone?’
‘I don’t know, I really don’t know!’ he faltered.
She said nothing, but he remained in her arms, savouring the sweet consolation of maternal love. He waited, hoping that she would urge him again to confide in her. But she did not, and to end the silence he began to speak of his own accord.
‘I can’t imagine how you knew. I thought I was putting on a pretty good face, that I was the same as ever. I didn’t even want to think about it either, because I couldn’t stand how much it affected me. As if I couldn’t live without that creature!’
He related to his mother how he had proposed to Frédérique and how she had rejected him in such a disdainful, insulting manner. He admitted that for some time he had felt very low as a result, but he would soon get over it: it was too absurd.
‘Don’t you love her any more?’ asked Madame van Raat.
Hearing him say ‘that creature’, her first thought had been of Eline, and when she discovered that he meant Freddie, she could not help feeling a flicker of relief.
‘No, no I don’t love her!’ he replied, shaking his head vigorously. ‘Oh no! Not any more.’
She lifted his chin with her hand and gazed into his eyes a long moment.
‘Why are you so different from the way you used to be?’ she asked reproachfully, doubting his denial. ‘Why have you become so quiet lately, and so unforthcoming? But I won’t quiz you any further, my child; you need not tell me more than you wish. Only, please do not deceive me, Paul, I should prefer you to say nothing rather than that.’
‘Oh, you are such a dear!’ he faltered. ‘And it has done me a power of good to have told you, even though it’s rather embarrassing.’
‘If you no longer love her,’ she pursued, tousling his hair with her fingers, ‘then it is only your vanity that has been hurt, Paul, and that is something you can easily put behind you. Still, I find it hard to believe that you should have stopped caring for Freddie. But as I said, my dear boy, I do not wish to pry, nor do I wish to cause you pain. I just want to thank you for trusting me enough to share your troubles with me at last. Now tell me, you do believe that your old mother loves you, don’t you?’
He nodded, tightening his embrace. All at once she noticed how much he resembled his father in the life-sized portrait on the wall — more so than Henk — and she had a sense of wonder at the overwhelming rush of love she felt for her young son in his time of heartache.
. .
Marie’s bouts of gaiety were over. She no longer collapsed into fits of helpless, happy laughter as she had done so often when she and Emilie de Woude had such fun putting the finishing touches to Georges and Lili’s new abode. She became resigned to the disillusionment she had suffered, and she saw her life stretching ahead of her like a dismal fog of monotonous grey, especially now that her brother Jan had left for the military academy in Breda and the house had grown distressingly dull. She longed for some animation, and envied Frédérique the lively company of the Van Rijssel children, who filled Madame van Erlevoort’s spacious home with such cheer.
Otto never visited The Hague. She had not seen him since August, when she had been staying at De Horze, and she cherished the memory of the few occasions she had found herself alone with him, when they had talked and strolled together in the park. Not that their conversations had been in any way intimate or important, but to her they were like small, sweet oases in the desert of her disappointment.
Only once, during those early months of winter, had her subdued mood of acceptance been disrupted by a crisis of emotion. It was brought on by a remark made by Frédérique, who, talking of how lonely it must be for Otto in the village of Elzen, suddenly exclaimed:
‘Oh, Marie, you would have made Otto such a good wife! At least you would have appreciated him.’
‘Me?’ she had responded timidly, attempting to smile. After Frédérique had gone she had lapsed into a flood of bitter tears. But after an hour everything was the same as before: blanketed by a grey fog of disillusionment, to which she, as usual, accommodated herself.
One day, Marie was surprised to receive a visit from Madame van Raat. Marie said she was sorry that Aunt Dora had not chosen a more propitious moment to call, as her father had gone to visit Lili and her mother was out shopping, but her aunt maintained that she would be delighted to have a chat with Marie instead, and plumped herself down in an armchair. She was not usually talkative, but this time she launched into all manner of topics, even enquiring after the ball given by the Eekhof girls. She mentioned a letter from Eline, and what a good thing it was that Paul was doing so well in Bodegraven and that he seemed very steady in his resolve to pursue his chosen career. Marie was glad to hear her speak so approvingly of her son, as until then she had only known her to frown on Paul’s behaviour. She also thought it very amiable of Aunt Dora to say, in parting:
‘By the way, how is Freddie? I have not seen her for such a long time. You can tell her from me that I am beginning to think she has forgotten all about me — she has not called on me for months! Tell her she is a naughty girl, will you?’
‘Yes, Aunt, so I shall!’ responded Marie with a light smile. Madame van Raat departed, leaving Marie wondering whether Aunt Dora had any notion of what had transpired between Paul and Freddie.
. .
When Frédérique heard from Marie that Madame van Raat was expecting her to call, her feelings were mixed. She had been avoiding the house at Laan van Meerdervoort out of a sense of discretion mingled with regret and embarrassment. But now that she had been summoned, she thought it likely that Paul’s mother had no knowledge of her son’s proposal. Besides, Paul had made it quite clear that he wanted to let bygones be bygones, and so, thinking it would be impolite of her to neglect the dear old lady any longer, she decided to pay her a visit.
But her heart beat fearfully as she rang the bell. Here she was, calling on Madame van Raat as a mere acquaintance, whereas if only things had been different, she might have come as her daughter-in-law.
Madame van Raat gave Frédérique a warm welcome. She was eager to know how her young visitor was keeping, and eyed her intently as she responded to various innocuous questions. Her thoughts flew back to the time when, observing Paul with Eline, she had entertained something akin to a hopeful expectation, and now she could not resist drawing a comparison between Eline’s faded elegance and Frédérique’s rosy freshness, tinged only by the faintest suggestion of melancholy. But notwithstanding the girl’s beauty, Paul’s mother felt a pang of aggrievement, on behalf of her son. Frédérique was so lovely, so healthy, and she was making her poor son suffer in silence. She did not think herself possessed of a talent for diplomacy, nor did she have a clear notion of her own eventual motives, all she knew was that she dearly wished to deepen her acquaintance with Frédérique. With any luck she would gain some insight into what the girl was feeling as she chatted to the mother of the suitor she had rejected. But the time was not ripe for plumbing the depths of Frédérique’s character, and the rules of polite society were not to be transgressed. On the other hand, she could not help thinking how agreeable the girl was, how open-hearted and amiable, and how winsome, with none of Eline’s self-conscious airs and graces! No, it was inconceivable that Freddie should have wilfully toyed with Paul’s emotions. . she simply did not love him enough, or. . there might be other reasons, which she preferred not to dwell on for the time being.