UNE INVITATION À LA CHASSE ET UNE INVITATION À LA VALSE.
William Verstork was destined to keep his appointment with his friends;
but it was not at all in the way he intended. When he promised to meet
them he thought that he would, as usual, ride over to Santjoemeh on
the Saturday afternoon and stay until Monday morning. It was, however,
not to be so. On Thursday morning Charles van Nerekool and Edward
van Rheijn received a letter inviting them to go to Banjoe Pahit.
"That will be," wrote Verstork to his two friends, "a complete change
of parts. Hitherto I have been your guest, but now I insist upon
appearing in the character of host. Of host!--surely my pen must be
playing tricks with me. Yes, indeed, for in order to play the host,
one must be able to show hospitality--no, no--hospitality is not the
right word; but in order to play the host one must be able to provide
for one's friends; and though I know well enough that you would not
at all object to put up with my poor controller's lodging and with
my still more humble dish of rice--yet I do not intend to offer you
such meagre fare. Where I shall stow you away I really don't know,
nor can I tell where you will find your entertainment. There's a fine
invitation! I hear you exclaim. Yet, my dear friends, I feel quite
certain that you will accept it. Just hear what I have to say. For
some time past the maize fields of the inhabitants of my division,
have been ravaged by wild boars, these have, in fact, of late become
a real plague; and the dessa Kaligaweh is the principal scene of their
nightly depredations. The main body of these formidable poachers finds,
I am told, a refuge in the wild bush which surrounds the Djoerang
(ravine) Pringapoes. This djoerang is a wild mountain cleft, and is
situated very nearly in the centre of my division; the two dessas
Banjoe Pahit and Kaligaweh, which are about five miles apart, lie on
the outskirts of it; the one in the hilly country and the other in the
lower grounds sloping down to the sea-shore. I have made up my mind to
clear my district, as far as I can, of these mischievous creatures,
and, for that purpose, I intend next Saturday and Sunday to hold a
battue. I cannot possibly take any other days for it, as I cannot, at
any other time, be away from my office. You see, therefore, my dear
friends, that my letter to you is 'Une invitation à la chasse,' and
that kind of thing, I know, you will not refuse. On Saturday morning
I will send you a couple of first-rate horses which the wedono has
offered me for the use of such of my friends as may like to join in
the sport. I suppose that you will, both of you, be able to knock off
work at about two o'clock; you will then want an hour to have a bath
and to get your shooting-coats on. Pray don't forget a pair of tall
gaiters, which in our rough country and among our thorny bushes, you
will find absolutely necessary. So that, say at three o'clock, you
can be in the saddle. If you will only give your horses their heads
I know they will easily carry you six miles an hour, so that at about
five o'clock you will be at my house. That is agreed upon, is it not?"
"Certainly, by all means," cried Charles and Edward both together,
as if they wished to convey their acceptance of his invitation to
the writer at Banjoe Pahit.
Said van Nerekool: "I must go and have a look at my gun, and I should
think it would be well to take a couple of revolvers."
"Of course," said van Rheijn, "William says so in his letter. Just
hear what he goes on to say. 'Look well to your firearms, and see
that they are in good order, for I can tell you that these pigs, when
they are roused from their lair, are not by any means contemptible
foes. You must, beside your guns, bring revolvers or, at least,
a good hunting-knife, one you can fix on the end of your rifle,
as a sword-bayonet.'"
"The devil we must!" said van Nerekool, "where in the world must I get
all these things from? I shall have to try and borrow them somewhere
I suppose. I have got a pretty good shot-gun of my own, but I can't
fix a bayonet to it. I don't think it is much use except for shooting
rice-birds, or sparrows. I must somehow manage to get hold of a rifle."
"Well," said van Rheijn, "the Regent of Santjoemeh, Radhen Mas
Toemenggoeng Pringgoe Kesoemo has, I know, a splendid repeating rifle
and a yatagan, and the Vice Regent has a pair of excellent Le Faucheux
central-fire revolvers. I have no doubt they will gladly lend them
to you."
"Then the best thing for me to do is to go and pay a visit at the
Regent's house," said van Nerekool.
"There is no need whatever to do that," said van Rheijn. "There is to
be a grand reception and ball at the Residence to-night. On such an
occasion those native grandees are not at all likely to be absent. You
will be there, I presume?" he continued, with a very meaning smile.
"Certainly," cried van Nerekool, with much warmth, "do you think
I would--?"
"Lose an opportunity of a dance with pretty Miss Anna?" asked van
Rheijn, finishing the sentence for him. "Well, you can at the same
time ask for the loan of the weapons, that will save you a tedious
call upon those Javanese worthies, But--"
"Well, but--what?" asked van Nerekool, "what do you mean?"
"Do you know how to handle a rifle?"
"Oh, you need not trouble yourself about that," replied van Nerekool,
"I was always practising shooting at Leyden, and they used to consider
me a very good shot, too."
That evening the Residence at Santjoemeh was most brilliantly
illuminated. In the spacious outer gallery, in the inner gallery,
in the pandoppo, in the side-rooms, in fact on all sides, rich
chandeliers were glittering in the stately mansion. The innumerable
jets of gas surrounded by globes of ground glass cast a bright,
yet pleasantly softened light over the handsome apartments, and
even over such parts of the garden as immediately surrounded the
house. But there, amidst the shrubs and flowers, the gaslight had
to compete with the brightly shining moon, a competition in which
man's invention could not hope to gain the advantage. The Queen of
Night was casting over everything her placid white light; houses,
roads, grassy lawns, shrubs and flowers lay bathed in her radiance;
and wherever her beams glided through the branches they shed a dim,
uncertain twilight, which was gentle as a caress, and mysterious
as the vision of a dream. The glare of the gas, on the other hand,
surrounded the building as with a reddish circle, in which, it is true,
everything was brilliantly lighted, but in which every object seemed
touched, as it were, with an unclean finger, when compared with the
lily white hue of the natural illumination outside. This reddish circle
grew fainter and fainter as it spread farther from its centre. For some
little distance the gaslight seemed to soil the absolute purity of the
moonbeams; but gradually their lily-white prevailed, and calmly rested
upon the landscape beyond. In front of the house there was a splendid
avenue of Kanarie trees which led from the domain to Santjoemeh. At
that hour of night, when seen from the front gallery, the gas-jets,
by which the avenue was partially lighted, looked in the moonlight
which fell through the tufted trees, like so many big fire-flies,
and, in the soft breeze which barely moved the foliage, they threw
on the well-kept gravel path, the most fantastic shapes which seemed
to run after each other in perpetual chase.
In the far distance more fire-flies were seen, red, green, blue,
yellow, all the colours of the rainbow, in fact. These were the
carriage-lamps of those who were coming to attend the reception
and ball, and who thus, by different coloured lamps, gave notice of
their approach.
The front gallery was as yet empty, only the daughter of the house
stood for a few moments at the balustrade looking down the whole
length of the avenue.
Said she to herself: "Yon red light which glitters so brightly is
the carriage of the assistant-resident of police, he always has the
right of precedence. And that blue one is Mr. Zuidhoorn's, and that
violet--Ah, there right away in the distance, that green--I must
be off--the foremost carriage is almost in the grounds--However,
I am glad van Nerekool is coming--It would never do for him to see
me looking out." She turned and joined her parents, who, having
been told by the Chief Constable that the guests were approaching,
had entered the inner gallery. Anna took her place by the side
of her mother ready to receive and to return the greetings of the
visitors. Mr. van Gulpendam, however, first went to have a look in
the front gallery. He was dressed very simply in black evening coat
without any official badge or distinction whatever, though the pajoeng
stand figured conspicuously enough at the end of the gallery. He
walked to the balustrade and cast a look outside. Down below at the
foot of the broad flight of steps which on both sides gave access to
the front gallery, a couple of sentinels were marching up and down
with shouldered arms. They regulated their walk, so that they met in
front of the middle of the gallery, then, in turning round they took
care that the tips of their bayonets should just clash together, a
sound which evidently was as sweet as heavenly music in the Resident's
ears. At all events he looked down with much complacency upon the two
sentinels and thrust forward his chest as one who would say: "Look,
that is the homage due to my exalted rank and transcendent merit."
Close by the main building, but a little on one side of it, a
small temporary pavilion had been erected, and upon it also the
Resident bestowed a look. The bandsmen of the militia at Santjoemeh,
dressed in full uniform, had just arrived, and were engaged there in
arranging their desks and opening their music-books and making other
preparations. A condescending nod to the bandmaster showed that Mr. van
Gulpendam was in an excellent humour. Thereupon he turned and joined
his wife and daughter.
"Those fellows," said he, "don't seem to drive very fast, however,
they are heaving in sight now."
Fair Laurentia, proud as any queen, had taken up her position in the
middle of the inner gallery, in front of a sofa which had been placed
there on purpose before a valuable Japanese screen. She held in one
hand a splendid bouquet of the rarest flowers, while from the wrist of
the other dangled her curiously carved ivory fan, a weapon which the
lady knew how to handle most becomingly. She was clad sumptuously in
a black satin dress, which set off wonderfully well the perfection of
her ample form. The corsage, reduced to the very limits modesty would
allow, that is to say that it was sleeveless and cut down very deep
in the back and very low in front, gave an ample view of her finely
formed and well rounded arms, of her splendid shoulders which looked
as if carved out of alabaster, and of a bosom which might have moved
Venus Kallipyga to envy. One line lower, and that corsage would not
have been able to contain the charms which it had to confine within
almost too narrow compass. An exceedingly elaborate coiffure sustained
the dark-brown locks of her stately head by means of a magnificent
diadem glowing with precious stones, while a number of coquettish
little curls straying over her clear white forehead, imparted to the
sparkling dark eyes of the beautiful woman an uncommonly seductive
fire. Round her neck she wore the blood-coral necklace with diamond
clasps which M`Bok Kârijâh had handed to her, and on her wrists
glittered the two serpent bracelets of old gold with diamond eyes
which she had so greatly admired on the nonna of the Chinese major, and
which had wrung from Lim Ho an imprecation accompanied by the words,
"Betoel, njonja mahal!"
By her side stood her daughter Anna, who by the absolute simplicity
of her attire, formed the strangest possible contrast with her
mother. However much Laurentia had tried, nothing would induce Anna to
appear in a low-necked dress. Her corsage, which like the dress was of
rose-coloured silk, was modestly closed around the neck, yet did not
prevent the imagination from picturing to itself the treasures which it
modelled with perfect exactness. For jewellery of any kind, the pretty
girl had a positive distaste. One simple Malmaison rose glowed in her
dark glossy hair, which was dressed as plainly as possible, but the
wealth of which she was not able to conceal. On her bosom a little bud
of tea-rose attracted attention to its delicately shaded yellow tints,
while it dispersed thoughts which, at that modestly veiled yet finely
modelled bust, might perhaps be tempted to take too wild a flight.
"How absurd of you it is, Anna," said Mrs. van Gulpendam, crossly
enough, as she surveyed her daughter from head to foot with a sarcastic
smile, "to appear at an evening party so shabbily dressed as that! Why,
your late governess used to make a better figure. People would take
her for the daughter of the house, and you for the governess."
In a certain sense the worldly woman was right enough. The late
governess she alluded to was a frivolous Parisienne, who had in every
way encouraged Mrs. van Gulpendam in her tastes, and had even urged
her on to greater extravagance. Thus she had got into the good graces
of the mistress of the house, and--evil tongues used to whisper--she
stood very high in favour with the Resident also. But be this true
or false, this much is certain that Mademoiselle Hélène Fouillée had
no more succeeded in corrupting the mind of the young girl entrusted
to her care, than in spoiling her naturally excellent taste. It was
not Anna's intention to reply to her mother's ill natured remark,
even had she had time to do so. At that moment was heard the sound
of feet mounting the broad steps which led to the front gallery, and
in a few seconds, in came a number of young gentlemen of different
races, some with white cheeks, some with brown, some with fair hair,
and some with black locks heavily oiled and stiff as pipe stems,
all in correct evening dress, with the starchiest collars, and with
opera-hats under their arms. These were, as Mr. van Gulpendam used to
style them, the ordinary seamen of the feast, who had to keep up the
liveliness of the mess; and who were expected to stand always ready by
the signal halliards. With this peculiar figurative language he meant
to convey that these young gentlemen were expected to hold themselves
in readiness for any emergency. Most of them were clerks and writers
in the Resident's office, who were admitted on these high occasions
on condition that they were always prepared to dance with any lady
who might happen to be in want of a partner.
Very humbly and very modestly they approached to pay their respectful
compliments to the family. In return for this homage they obtained a
condescending shake of the hand from their chief, a pleasant little
smile and nod from his pretty daughter, while mamma, with her own
fair fingers, fastened a rosebud in their buttonholes, thus dubbing
them the stewards of the evening's entertainment.
"And now, young people," said Laurentia, with her most fascinating
smile, "you must dance merrily to-night."
"Aye, aye," grumbled van Gulpendam, "a good stiff breeze mind--no
doldrums, do you hear!"
All heads were submissively bent under this windy exhortation, when
suddenly Laurentia cried:
"Quick, there come our guests!"
As a black cloud the young men rushed from the room, as the foremost
carriages drove up. Presently, three of them returned to the inner
gallery, escorting the wife of the assistant resident of police and
her two daughters, a pair of good-looking twins of about twenty.
"Well, how very kind of you, Mrs. Meidema," cried Laurentia, in her
most pleasant tones, as she grasped the hand of the lady who had just
arrived and drew her close to give her a kiss on the forehead. Each
of the two young girls also obtained this high distinction.
"It is really kind of you to have come," continued the garrulous
hostess. "I hardly dared to hope that we should have the pleasure of
seeing you here to-night. Mrs. Zuidhoorn was this morning telling me
that one of your children is ill."
"Oh no, I am glad to say," replied Mrs. Meidema, "it is not so bad
as that, only slightly indisposed, it is nothing but a slight cold."
The Assistant Resident who followed his ladies, made his bow to the
mistress of the house, and then shook hands with his chief. As the
young ladies were exchanging greetings, one of the sisters whispered
to Anna van Gulpendam, "I have something to tell you presently, Anna."
"Secrets, Matilda?" asked she.
A slight nod was the answer, in fact no other reply was possible;
for after the family Meidema a constant stream of visitors came up
and crowded around the host and hostess to pay them their respects.
Then appeared the President of the Court, and the members of the
judicature, the officials of the Home Department, the officers of the
garrison, the leading commercial men and principal manufacturers--all
these accompanied by the ladies of their families, whenever these
were old enough to join in the dancing. There further appeared the
Regent of Santjoemeh Radhen Mas Toemenggoeng Pringgoe Kesoemo and the
Vice-regent Radhen Pandjie Merto Winoto and the chief djaksa (public
prosecutor) Mas Djogo Dirdjo and many other Javanese grandees and all
these with their principal wives. There appeared also the major of the
Chinese Tang Ing Gwan and captains, Lim Liong Hie and Tjaa Kwat Kong
and several lieutenants of that nation. There also Lim Yang Bing the
opium farmer at Santjoemeh and his son Lim Ho put in an appearance. All
these people thronged around the three members of the Residential
family as they stood by the above mentioned sofa. They all smiled and
nodded, and bowed, and shook hands, and made protestations--indeed,
at the Hague you could not have seen it done better. If all these
utterances which spoke of attachment and devotion, were but in sober
reality the outcome of hearty good will--why, then Santjoemeh would
have been an earthly Paradise.
Meanwhile, the militia-band had been playing the overture of La Dame
Blanche, to which music, however, not a single soul had paid the
slightest attention.
When the overture was ended, and flattery, and incense, and
compliments, had, at length, been exhausted, the Resident made
a signal, which was forthwith repeated by one of the ministering
spirits in the front-gallery. Straightway were heard the tones of a
formal Polonaise, whereupon the assembled guests pairing off began to
move about in the spacious inner and outer galleries. It was a stately
procession, reminding one very much of a march-past, during which the
keen eyes of the ladies could sharply criticise each other's toilettes.
The Resident led the procession with the Commandant's wife on his
arm, immediately behind them, came fair Laurentia on the arm of that
commanding officer, while the chief of the medical staff followed
with Anna, This was a thorn in van Nerekool's side; but when, after
the Polonaise, were heard the exhilarating strains of "L'invitation
à la valse," the old doctor had led Anna to a seat, youth asserted
its rights, and soon Anna and Charles were gliding together in the
inner gallery. It was a sight, to see the two young people so happy,
with pleasure beaming from their eyes.
"I believe," said Anna in a subdued voice, as she waltzed, "I believe
there is some news about Ardjan."
"About Ardjan?" asked Van Nerekool, evidently perplexed. Not, indeed,
the case of Anna's protégé but merely his name had escaped the young
man's memory, his face told that plainly enough.
"Yes, Ardjan, don't you recollect, baboe Dalima's lover," rejoined
Anna, "have you forgotten him already--Oh those men, those men!"
"I confess, it is very stupid of me," replied van Nerekool; "but what
news is there, Miss van Gulpendam?"
"I don't yet know what it is, Mr. van Nerekool."
"Mr. van Nerekool!" said Charles, "that sounds remarkably stiff
and formal."
"Miss van Gulpendam," said Anna playfully in the same tone, "that
also sounds remarkably stiff and formal."
"Will you then give me the right to call you Miss Anna, or, shorter
still--simply Anna--dear, darling Anna?"
The young girl blushed most prettily. She did not utter a word;
but her hand, as it rested lightly on his shoulder, was her
interpreter. The slightest little pressure, and that was all. It was
almost imperceptible, but it was enough to make Charles the happiest
of mortals. His right arm encircled her waist, with his left hand
he held hers, while his eye was steadfastly fixed downward on the
graceful form before him.
Thus, for a few moments they glided on in silence, "I am waiting for
your answer," said he at length, "dear--darling Anna. I may call you
so, may I not?"
No distinctly spoken word came from her lips; but she uttered a sound,
very pleasant to hear, though quite indefinite. It was a gentle breath,
something like a suppressed sigh, and sounded like a veil which her
maiden modesty cast over the unpronounced answer.
Yes--but--might it not have been her breathing somewhat quickened by
the exertion of dancing?
With the blindness and bungling so peculiar to true lovers, Charles
at once interpreted that sigh as a sign of fatigue, and somewhat
anxiously he said to her:
"You are tired! shall I take you to your seat?"
"Oh no," said she in a scarcely audible whisper, "I am not at all
tired. Do let us go on dancing."
However inexperienced in such matters van Nerekool might be, those
words were plain enough. "With the greatest pleasure, dear Anna,"
he cried, as he led his partner on amid the maze of dancers.
"You give me leave then to call you dear--dearest Anna?"
One eloquent look from the fair girl was the answer.
"Oh then," continued he passionately, "let me tell you how dear you
are to me, how dearly, how fondly I love you."
Her well-gloved hand moved convulsively on his shoulder.
"Yes, darling Anna," he continued in a lower tone, but more eagerly
than before--"I love you as never man can have loved before,--I
love you with all my heart and with all my soul, and the proudest
and happiest moment of my life will be that in which I shall be able
to call you mine--my own! Tell me, dearest Anna, tell me, may I hope
for some return of my love?"
The girl's eye fell before his burning glance, but this was a turning
point in her life, and when it was a question of such vital importance
to both, she was much too frank and too honest to try and hide her
feelings under a cloak of false modesty. Very softly therefore; but in
a voice which to Charles was distinctly audible, she murmured, "Yes."
For a few moments he was silent, and seemed lost in thought Gently they
glided on together to the time of that delightful music, and, though
in the midst of a throng of dancers, wholly engrossed in each other,
they felt as lonely as on some island washed by the storm-tossed waves.
But his arm now more firmly clasped her waist, for a single instant
it seemed as if he would have caught her up to his breast and held
her there, as if to take possession of his treasure.
"You make me too happy," said he at length, "You make me too happy
with that little word, which to me is full of the deepest meaning. Now
will you allow me to see your parents to-morrow and lay before them
my formal request for your hand?"
At these words the girl's countenance fell, she replied however:
"Most certainly I will allow you, Mr. van Ne----"
"My name is Charles, dearest Anna," whispered the young man.
"Certainly, Charles, I will allow you--but it would not be right to
try and conceal from you the fact that my father is prejudiced against
you. My father does not like you at all, I have gathered that from
many an unguarded expression that has fallen from him."
"Oh, yes," he replied, "I know that well. I also have noticed his
dislike. But what objection can he have to me?"
"Well," said Anna, "to tell you the truth, I do not think he knows
that himself--some unaccountable antipathy, I suppose. You know he
calls you a dreamer, an enthusiast, an unpractical person, in fact,
who will never make much way in the world."
"And my Anna," asked the young man, "does she also look upon me as
a dreamer and an enthusiast?"
The fair girl looked up to him with a merry smile.
"Yes," continued van Nerekool, "I am an enthusiast--that is quite
true. I am devoted to all that is good and all that is beautiful. I am
an enthusiast where my darling is concerned--that is true enough. But
is it a fact that I am an unpractical fellow, and one who will never
make his way in the world? Methinks that just now, when I am trying
to win the dearest girl in the world, I am proving myself to be most
thoroughly practical, inasmuch as I am striving to secure for myself
the greatest imaginable happiness, and I think that, far from dreaming,
I am giving proof of being very properly and very wide awake. Don't
you think so, dearest?"
Another soft pressure on that poor shoulder which already had had so
much to bear was her answer.
"And do you think, dearest Anna," he continued, "that that antipathy
is strong enough to make your father so hostile to me that he will
refuse his consent to a union on which he knows that your happiness
as well as mine depends?"
"I do not say so, Charles," was her reply. "But you must make up your
mind to difficulties and obstacles of all kinds."
"Very good," said he, "we shall have to fight against them;
difficulties are made to be removed and obstacles to be overcome. Anna,
my darling, I count upon your love and your constancy; you may safely
count on mine. Nothing--you hear me?--nothing in the world will in
the slightest degree affect my love to you. The very obstacles you
speak of will only serve to enhance the joy of our union."
The music ceased, and with it ceased the dance. Charles released his
partner's waist and offered her his arm.
"Let us walk about for a few minutes," said he; "to-morrow I shall
call upon your parents. I will request them to see me some time in
the morning. That is a settled question, is it not?"
She nodded with her calm, sweet smile.
After having made a couple of turns around the inner gallery the
two lovers found themselves at one of the doors which opened upon
the pandoppo, where the illumination was equally bright. Several
couples--groups of young girls--also were passing through the pandoppo
to get to the garden of the Residence, there to enjoy for a while
the freshness and coolness of the pleasant night. Anna and Charles
followed the others somewhat mechanically; and soon found themselves
among the ornamental shrubberies and bushes which the tropical sun
brings forth in such abundance. Between these the pathways, laid down
in the style of an English park, meandered gracefully and fantastically
as the inspiration of some skilful artist.
"I fancy I saw Matilda Meidema and a couple of my friends yonder just
now," said Anna, "down there in the Salak-lane. She has something to
tell me. I shall be with you again directly."
Was it natural modesty? Was it a kind of dread of being alone for
the first time with him whom she loved, and to whom she had just
now spoken her faithful and trustful "yes?" Was it perhaps womanly
curiosity which impelled her to go and hear what secret her friend
had to communicate, and a burning anxiety also to pour into her ear
the great secret of her own happiness? Perhaps so. At all events, she
was about to speed away, but van Nerekool prevented her with gentle
violence as he pressed to his heart the hand which lay on his arm.
"There will be time enough presently, dearest love," murmured he in
a whisper, as if he feared some one in the garden might catch up his
words; "there will be time enough presently to hear what Matilda has
to tell you. This hour is mine."