CHAPTER EIGHT
Eva was at home to her friends once a fortnight: "You see, resident,it's not a reception," she always said, in self-defence, to VanOudijck. "I know that no one's allowed to 'receive' in the interior,except the resident and his wife. It's really not a reception,resident. I shouldn't dare to call it that. I'm just at home toeverybody once a fortnight; and I'm glad if our friends care tocome.... It's all right, isn't it, resident, as long as it's not a'reception'?"
Van Oudijck would laugh merrily, with his jovial laugh shaking hismilitary moustache, and ask if little Mrs. Eldersma was pulling hisleg. She could do anything, if she would only continue to providea little gaiety, a little acting, a little music, a little pleasantintercourse. That was her duty, once and for all: to look after thesocial element at Labuwangi.
There was nothing Indian about her at-home days. For instance, at theresident's, the receptions were regulated according to the old inlandpractice: all the ladies sat side by side, on chairs along the walls;Mrs. van Oudijck walked past them and talked to each for a moment inturn, standing, while they remained sitting; the resident chatted tothe men in another gallery. The male and female elements kept apart;gin-and-bitters, port and iced water were handed round.
At Eva's, people strolled about, walked through the galleries, satdown wherever they pleased; everybody talked to everybody. There wasnot the same ceremony as at the resident's, but there was all thechic of a French drawing-room, with an artistic touch to it. And ithad become a habit for the ladies to dress more for Eva's days thanfor the resident's receptions: at Eva's they wore hats, a symbol ofextreme elegance in India. Fortunately, Leonie did not care; it lefther totally indifferent.
Leonie was now sitting in the middle gallery, on a couch, and remainedsitting with the raden-aju, the wife of the regent. She liked that:everybody came up to her, whereas at her own receptions she had todo so much walking, past the row of ladies along the wall. Now shetook her ease, remained sitting, smiling on those who came to pay hertheir respects. But, apart from this, there was a restless movementof guests. Eva was here, there and everywhere.
"Do you think it's pretty here?" Mrs. van der Does asked Leonie,with a glance at the middle gallery.
And her eyes wandered in surprise over the dull arabesques, paintedin distemper on the pale-grey walls, like frescoes; over the teakwainscoting, carved by skilful Chinese cabinetmakers after a drawing inthe Studio: over the bronze Japanese vases, on their teak pedestals,in which branches of bamboo and bouquets of gigantic flowers casttheir shadows right up to the ceiling.
"Odd ... but very pretty! Unusual!" murmured Leonie, to whom Eva'staste was always a conundrum.
Withdrawn into herself as into a temple of egoism, she did not mindwhat others did or felt, or how they arranged their houses. But shecould not have lived here. She liked her own lithographs--Veroneseand Shakespeare and Tasso: she thought them distinguished--liked thembetter than the handsome carton photographs after Italian masterswhich Eva had standing here and there on easels. Above all, she lovedher chocolate-box and the scent-advertisement with the little angels.
"Do you like that dress?" Mrs. van der Does asked next.
"Yes, I do," said Leonie, smiling pleasantly. "Eva's very clever:she painted those blue irises herself, on Chinese silk...."
She never said anything but kind, smiling things. She never spokeevil; it left her indifferent. And she now turned to the raden-ajuand thanked her in kindly, drawling sentences for some fruit whichthe latter had sent her. The regent came to speak to her and sheasked after his two little sons. She talked in Dutch and the regentand the raden-aju both answered in Malay. The Regent of Labuwangi,Raden Adipati Surio Sunario, was still young, just turned thirty:a refined Javanese face like the conceited face of a puppet; alittle moustache, with the points carefully twisted; and, above all,a staring gaze that struck the beholder, a gaze that stared as thoughin a continual trance; a gaze that seemed to pierce the visible realityand to see right through it; a gaze that issued from eyes like coals,sometimes dull and weary, sometimes flashing like sparks of ecstasy andfanaticism. Among the population, which was almost slavishly attachedto its regent and his family, he enjoyed a reputation for sanctityand mystery, though no one ever knew the truth of the matter. Here,in Eva's gallery, he merely produced the impression of a puppet-likefigure, of a distinguished Indian prince, save that his trance-likeeyes occasioned surprise. The sarong, drawn smoothly around his hips,hung low in front in a bundle of flat, regular pleats, which flutteredopen; he wore a white starched shirt with diamond studs and a littleblue tie; over this was a blue cloth uniform-jacket, with gold uniformbuttons, with the royal "W" and the crown; his bare feet were encasedin black, patent-leather pumps turning up at the pointed toes; thekerchief carefully wound about his head in narrow folds imparted afeminine air to his refined features, but the black eyes, now and thenweary, constantly sparkled as in a trance, an ecstasy. The golden kriswas stuck in his blue-and-gold waist-band, right behind, in the smallof his back; a large jewel glittered on his tiny, slender hand; anda cigarette-case of braided gold wire peeped from the pocket of hisjacket. He did not say much--sometimes he looked as though he wereasleep; then his strange eyes would flash up again--and his repliesto what Leonie said consisted almost exclusively of a curt, clipped
"Saja, yes...."
He uttered the two syllables with a hard, sibilant accent ofpoliteness, laying equal stress upon each. He accompanied his littleword of civility with a brief, automatic nod of the head. The raden-ajutoo, seated beside Leonie, answered in the same way:
"Saja...."
But she always followed it up with a little embarrassed laugh. She wasvery young still, possibly just eighteen. She was a Solo princess; andVan Oudijck could not tolerate her, because she introduced Solo mannersand Solo expressions into Labuwangi, in her conceited arrogance, asthough nothing could be so distinguished and so purely aristocraticas what was done and said at the court of Solo. She employed courtphrases which the Labuwangi population did not understand; she hadforced the regent to engage a Solo coachman, with the Solo statelivery, including the wig and the false beard and moustache, at whichthe people stared wide-eyed. Her yellow complexion was made to appearyet paler by a light layer of rice-powder applied moist; her eyebrowswere slightly arched in a fine black streak; jewelled hairpins werestuck in her glossy chignon and a kenanga-flower in her girdle. Over anembroidered garment which, according to the custom of the Solo court,was long and trailing in front, she wore a kabaai of red brocade,relieved with gold braid and fastened with three large gems. Two stonesof fabulous value, moreover, in heavy silver settings, dragged her earsdown. She wore light-coloured open-work stockings and gold embroideredslippers. Her little thin fingers were stiff with rings, as thoughset in brilliants; and she held a white marabou fan in her hand.
"Saja ... saja," she answered, civilly, with her embarrassed littlelaugh.
Leonie was silent for a moment, tired of carrying on the conversationby herself. When she had spoken to the regent and the raden-ajuabout their sons she could not find much more to say. Van Oudijck,after Eva had shown him round the galleries--for there was alwayssomething new to admire--joined his wife; the regent rose to his feet.
"Well, regent," asked the resident, in Dutch, "how is the raden-ajupangeran?"
He was enquiring after Sunario's mother, the old regent's widow.
"Very well ... thank you," murmured the regent, in Malay. "But mammadidn't come with us ... so old ... easily tired."
"I want to speak to you, regent."
The regent followed Van Oudijck into the front verandah, whichwas empty.
"I am sorry to have to tell you that I have just had another badreport of your brother, the Regent of Ngadjiwa.... I am informedthat he has lately been gambling again and has lost large sums ofmoney. Do you know anything about it?"
The regent shut himself up, as it were, in his puppet-like stiffnessand kept silence. Only his eyes stared, as though gazing through VanOudijck at
distant objects.
"Do you know anything about it, regent?"
"Tida, no...."
"I request you, as head of the family, to look into it and to keepa watch upon your brother. He gambles, he drinks; he does your nameno credit, regent. If the old pangeran could have guessed that hissecond son would go to the dogs like this, it would have painedhim greatly. He held his name high. He was one of the wisest andnoblest regents that the government ever had in Java; and you knowhow greatly the government valued the pangeran. Even in the Company'sdays, Holland owed much to your house, which was always loyal toher. But the times seem to be altering.... It is very regrettable,regent, that an old Javanese family with such lofty traditions asyours should be unable to remain faithful to those traditions...."
Raden Adipati Surio Sunario turned pale with a greenish pallor. Hishypnotic eyes pierced the resident through; but he saw that the lattertoo was boiling with anger. And he veiled the strange glitter of hisgaze with a drowsy weariness.
"I thought, resident, that you had always felt an affection for myhouse," he murmured, almost plaintively.
"And you thought right, regent. I loved the pangeran. I have alwaysadmired your house and have always tried to uphold it. I want touphold it still, together with yourself, regent, hoping that you seenot only, as your reputation suggests, the things of the next world,but also the realities about you. But it is your brother, regent,whom I do not love and cannot possibly esteem. I have been told--and Ican trust the words of those who told me--that the Regent of Ngadjiwahas not only been gambling ... but also that he has failed this monthto pay the heads at Ngadjiwa their salaries...."
They looked at each other fixedly; and Van Oudijck's firm and steadyglance met the regent's gaze, the gaze of a man in a trance.
"The persons who act as your informants may be mistaken...."
"I am assuming that they would not bring me such reports withoutthe most incontestable certainty.... Regent, this is a very delicatematter. I repeat, you are the head of your family. Enquire of youryounger brother to what extent he has misapplied the money of thegovernment and make it all good as soon as possible. I am purposelyleaving the matter to you. I will not speak to your brother about it,in order to spare a member of your family as long as I can. It isfor you to admonish your brother, to call his attention to what in myeyes is a crime, but one which you, by your prestige as the head ofthe family, are still able to undo. Forbid him to gamble and order himto master his passion. Otherwise I foresee very grievous things and Ishall have to propose your brother's dismissal. You yourself know howI should dislike to do that. For the Regent of Ngadjiwa is the secondson of the old pangeran, whom I held in high esteem, even as I shouldalways wish to spare your mother, the raden-aju pangeran, any sorrow."
"I thank you," murmured Sunario.
"Reflect seriously upon what I am saying to you, regent. If youcannot make your brother listen to reason, if the salaries of theheads are not paid at the earliest possible date, then ... then Ishall have to act. And, if my warning is of no avail, then it meansyour brother's ruin. You yourself know, the dismissal of a regent issuch a very exceptional thing that it would bring disgrace upon yourfamily. Help me to save the house of the Adiningrats from such a fate."
"I promise," murmured the regent.
"Give me your hand, regent."
Van Oudijck pressed the thin fingers of the Javanese:
"Can I trust you?" he asked.
"In life, in death."
"Then let us go indoors. And tell me as soon as possible what youhave discovered."
The regent bowed. A greenish pallor betrayed the silent, secret ragewhich was working inside him like the fire of a volcano. His eyes,behind Van Oudijck's back, stabbed with a mysterious hatred at theHollander, the low-born Hollander, the base commoner, the infidelChristian, who had no business to feel anything, with that unclean soulof his, concerning him, his house, his father, his mother, or theirsupremely sacred aristocracy and nobility ... even though they hadalways bowed beneath the yoke of those who were stronger than they....