Old Takma was just coming from the razor-back bridge by the barracks,
stiff and erect in his tightly-buttoned overcoat, considering each step
and leaning on his ivory-knobbed stick, when Ottilie Steyn de Weert,
arriving from the other side, saw him and went up to him:
"How do you do, Mr. Takma?"
"Ah, Ottilie, how do you do?... Are you going to Mamma's too?"
"Yes...."
"It was raining this morning and I thought I shouldn't be able to go.
Adèle was grumbling because I went out after all, but it's fine now,
it's fine now...."
"I think it'll rain again presently though, and you haven't even an
umbrella, Mr. Takma."
"Well, you see, child, I hate an umbrella: I never carry one.... Fancy
walking with a roof over your head!"
Ottilie smiled: she knew that the old man could not lean on his stick
when holding up his umbrella. But she said:
"Well, _if_ it rains, may I see you home?... That is, if you won't have
a carriage?"
"No, child, I think a carriage even more horrid than an umbrella."
She knew that the jolting of a cab caused him great discomfort.
"The only carriage in which I'm likely to drive will be the black
coach. Very well, child, if it rains, you shall bring me home ... and
hold your little roof over my head. Give me your arm: I'll accept that
with pleasure."
She gave him her arm; and, now that he was leaning on her, his stiff,
straight step became irregular and he let himself go and hobbled along
like a very old, old man....
"How quiet you are, child!"
"I, Mr. Takma?"
"Yes."
"You notice everything."
"I could hear at once by your voice that you were not in good spirits."
"Well, perhaps I am worried.... Here we are."
She rang at old Mrs. Dercksz': old Anna, inside, came hurrying at a
great rate to open the door.
"I'll just take breath, Anna," said the old gentleman, "just take
breath ... keep on my coat, I think ... and take breath for a moment
... in the morning-room."
"It's getting coldish," said old Anna. "We shall start fires soon
in the morning-room. The mistress never comes downstairs, but
there's often some one waiting; and Dr. Roelofsz is a very chilly
gentleman...."
"Don't start fires too soon, don't start fires too soon," said the old
man, querulously. "Fires play the dickens with us old people...."
He sat down, wearily, in the morning-room, with his two hands on the
ivory knob of his stick. Anna left them to themselves.
"Come, child, what is it? Worry?"
"A little.... I shall be so lonely.... The wedding's to-morrow."
"Yes, yes ... to-morrow is Lot and Elly's wedding. Well, they'll be
very happy."
"I hope so, I'm sure.... But I...."
"Well?"
"I shall be _un_happy."
"Come, come!"
"What have I left? Not one of my children with me. I sometimes think
of going to England. I have John and Hugh there ... and Mary is coming
home from India."
"Yes, child, as we grow older, we are left all alone. Look at me. Now
that Elly is marrying, I shall have no one but Adèle. It's lucky that
I can still get out ... and that I sometimes see Mamma ... and ... and
all of you ... and Dr. Roelofsz.... But, if I were helpless, what would
there be for _me?_... You, you're young still."
"I? Do you call _me_ young?..."
"Yes, child, aren't you young?..."
"But, Mr. Takma, I'm sixty!"
"Are you sixty?... Are you _sixty?_... Child, do you mean to tell me
you're sixty?"
The old man cudgelled his brains, fighting against a sudden cloud in
his memory that hazed around him like a mist. And he continued:
"No, you must be mistaken. You _can't_ be sixty."
"Yes, really, Mr. Takma, really: I'm sixty!"
"Oh, Lietje, my child, are you really ... as old ... as that!"
He cudgelled his brains ... and closed his eyes:
"Sixty!" he muttered. "More than sixty ... more than sixty years ..."
"No, sixty exactly."
"Yes, yes, sixty! Oh, child, are you really sixty? I thought you
were forty or fifty at most ... I was dreaming.... The old man was
dreaming.... Sixty!... More than sixty years ago!..."
His voice mumbled; she did not understand what he meant:
"Were you a little confused?"
"When?" he asked, with a start.
"Just now."
"Just now?..."
"When you thought ... that I was forty."
"What do you say?"
"When you thought that I was _forty_."
"Yes, yes ... I hear what you say.... I can still hear very well.... I
have always heard very well ... too well ... too well ..."
"He's wandering," thought Ottilie Steyn. "He's never done that before."
"So you're sixty, child!" said the old man, more calmly, recovering his
voice. "Yes, I suppose you must be.... You see, we old people, we very
old people, think that you others always remain children ... well, not
children, but young ... that you always remain young.... Ah ... and you
grow old too!"
"Oh, yes, _very_ old! And then there's so little left."
Her voice sounded ever so sad.
"Poor girl!" said old Takma. "But you oughtn't to quarrel so with Pauws
... I mean ... I mean, with Trevelley."
"With Steyn, you mean."
"Yes, I mean, with Steyn ... of course."
"I can't stand him."
"But you could, once!"
"Ah ... when one's in love ... then...!"
"Yes, yes, you were able to stand him at one time!" said the old man,
obstinately. "And so the wedding is to-morrow?"
"Yes, to-morrow."
"I can't be there: I'm very sorry, but ..."
"Yes, it would tire you too much.... They're coming to take leave of
Grandmamma presently."
"That's nice, that's nice of them."
"It'll be a tame affair," said Ottilie. "They are so tame. There'll be
nothing, no festivity. They refuse to be married in church."
"Yes, those are their ideas," said the old man, in a tone of
indifference. "I don't understand it, that 'not being married in
church;' but they must know their own business."
"Elly hasn't even a bridal dress; I think it so odd.... Elly is really
_very_ serious for so young a girl. I shouldn't care to be married like
that, when you're married for the first time. But, on the other hand,
what's the use of all that fuss, as Lot says? The relations and friends
don't really care. And it runs into money."
"Elly could have had whatever she liked," said the old gentleman, "a
dinner, a dance or anything.... But she refused."
"Yes, they're both agreed."
"Those are their ideas," said the old man, with indifference.
"Mr. Takma ..." said Ottilie, hesitatingly.
"Yes, child?"
"I wanted to ask you something, but I dare not...."
"What are you afraid of, child? Do you want something?"
"No, not exactly, but ..."
"But what, child?... Is it money?"
Ottilie heaved a great sob:
"I hate asking you!... I think it's horrid of me.... And you mustn't
_ever_ tell Lot that I ask you sometimes.... But, you see, I'll tell
you frankly, I've sent Hugh some money; and now ... and now I have
nothing left for myself.... If you hadn't always been so immensely kind
to me, I should never dare ask you. But you've always spoilt me, as you
know.... Yes, you know: you've always had a soft place in your heart
for me.... And, if you don't think it horrid of me to ask you and if
you could ... let me have ..."
"How much do you want, child?"
Ottilie looked at the door, to see if any one was listening:
"Only three hundred guilders...."
"Why, of course, child, of course. Come round to-morrow, to-morrow
evening ... after the wedding.... And, when you want anything, ask me,
do you see? Ask me with an easy conscience.... You can ask me whenever
you please...."
"You _are_ so good to me!..."
"I have always been very fond of you ... because I'm so very fond of
your mother.... So ask me, child ... ask me whenever you please, only
... be sensible ... and don't do ..."
"Don't do what, Mr. Takma?"
The old man suddenly became very uncertain in his speech:
"Don't do ... don't do anything rash....."
"What do you mean?.
"Sixty years ... sixty years ago ..."
He began to mumble; and she saw him fall asleep, sitting erect, with
his hands on the ivory knob of his stick.
She was frightened and, stealing noiselessly to the door, she opened it
and called:
"Anna ... Anna...."
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Come here.... Look.... Mr. Takma has fallen asleep.... We'd better
stay with him till he wakes up, hadn't we?"
"Oh, the poor soul!" said the maid, compassionately.
"He isn't...?" asked Ottilie, in the voice of a frightened child.
But Anna shook her head reassuringly. The old man slept on, stiff and
straight in his chair, with his hands resting on his stick.
The two women sat down and watched.