Van Oudijck was fond of certain effects. He did not say much about
his visit to the palace that day, nor in the evening, when Eldersma
and Van Helderen came to speak to him about the council which would
be held next morning. They felt more or less uneasy and asked if they
should go armed. But Van Oudijck very firmly and decidedly forbade
them to take arms with them and said that no one was allowed to do
so. The officials gave way, but nobody felt comfortable. The council,
however, took place in complete peace and harmony; only, there were
more people moving about among the booths in the market-place, there
were more police at the ornamental arches, with the rippling strips
of bunting. But nothing happened. The wives indoors were anxious and
felt relieved when their husbands were safely back home again. And Van
Oudijck had obtained his effect. He now paid a few visits, feeling
sure of his grip on things, relying on the raden-aju pangéran. He
reassured the ladies and told them to think of nothing now except
the fancy-fair. But they were none too confident. Some families,
in the evening, bolted all their doors and remained in the middle
gallery with their visitors and children and babus, armed, listening,
on their guard.
Theo, to whom his father had spoken in an outburst of confidence,
planned and played a practical joke with Addie. The two lads, one
evening, went round the houses of those whom he knew to be most
fidgety and made their way into the front-verandah and shouted to
have the doors opened; and they could hear the cocking of fire-arms
in the middle galleries. They had a merry evening of it.
Then at last the fancy-fair took place. Eva had organized a series of
three tableaux from the Arthurian legend on the stage of the club:
Vivien and Guinevere and Lancelot; in the middle of the garden was
a Madura proa, fitted up like a Viking's ship, in which iced punch
was served; a neighbouring sugar-factory, always full of fun, famed
for its jovial tone, had provided a complete Dutch fritters-stall,
as a nostalgic memory of Holland, with the ladies dressed as Frisian
peasant-girls and the young fellows from the factory as cooks; and
the excitement over the Transvaal was represented by a Majuba Hill
with ladies and gentlemen in fantastic Boer costumes. There was not
a word about the tremendous seaquake at Ternate, although one half
of the receipts was destined for the devastated districts. Under
the glowing festoons of Chinese lanterns slung across the gardens,
a great sense of fun prevailed, coupled with a readiness to spend
pots of money, especially on behalf of the Transvaal. But amid the
merriment there yet quivered a fear. Groups assembled, peering glances
were cast at the road outside, where Eurasians, Javanese, Chinese and
Arabs stood round the steaming portable kitchens. And the visitors,
while tossing off a glass of champagne or toying with a plate of
fritters, turned their ears in the direction of the square, where the
public fair was in full swing. When Van Oudijck appeared with Doddie,
received with the national anthem, generously scattering rixdollars
and banknotes, he was constantly asked whispered questions. And,
when it was seen that Mrs. van Oudijck was not coming, people began
to ask one another where she was. She had been suffering so with her
teeth, said one; she had gone to Surabaya to see the dentist. They
did not think it nice of her; they did not like her when they did
not see her. She was much discussed that evening; the most horrible
scandals were told about her. Doddie took up her stand in the Madura
proa as a saleswoman; and Van Oudijck, with Eldersma, Van Helderen
and a couple of controllers from other districts, went round and
treated the members of his council. When people asked their mysterious
questions, with anxious glances at the road, with ears pricked towards
the popular market, he reassured them with a majestic smile; nothing
was going to happen, he pledged his word on it. They considered him
extremely trusting, mightily sure of himself; but the jovial smile
around his thick moustache was comforting. He urged all who belonged
to his good town of Labuwangi to think of nothing but enjoyment and
benevolence. And, when suddenly the Regent, Raden Adipati Sunario,
and his wife, the young raden-aju, appeared at the entrance and paid
for bouquets, programmes and fans with a hundred-guilder-note, the
tension was relaxed throughout the garden. Everybody soon knew about
the hundred-guilder-note. And they all breathed again, realizing
that there was now no occasion for anxiety, that there would be no
insurrection that night. They made much of the regent and his smiling
young wife, who glittered with her beautiful jewels.
Out of sheer relief and relaxation of their tense anxiety, out of
sheer craziness, they spent more and more money, trying to vie with
the few wealthy Chinese--those dating from before the opium-monopoly,
the owners of the white marble and stucco palaces--as these with their
wives, in embroidered grey and green Chinese costumes, their shiny
hair stuck full of flowers and precious stones, smelling strongly of
sandalwood, distributed rixdollars broadcast. Money flowed like water,
dripped as though in silver drops into the collecting-boxes of the
delighted saleswomen. And the fancy-fair was a success. And, when Van
Oudijck at last, little by little, here and there, said a word to Doorn
de Bruijn, to Rantzow, to the officials from other residencies about
his visit, about his interview with the raden-aju pangéran--assuming
an air of humility and simplicity, but nevertheless, despite himself,
beaming with happy pride, with delight in his triumph--then he attained
his greatest effect.
The story ran round the garden, of the tact, the cleverness of the
resident, who had laid the spectre of insurrection merely with a
word. He received a sort of ovation. And he filled every glass with
champagne, he bought up every fan, he purchased all the tickets in
the tombola that remained unsold. It was his apotheosis, his greatest
moment of success and popularity. And he joked with the ladies and
flirted with them.
The entertainment was prolonged until daylight, until six o'clock
in the morning. The merry cooks were drunk and danced around their
fritters-stove. And, when Van Oudijck went home at last, he felt
an inner mood of self-satisfaction, of strength, he was delighted,
enraptured with himself. He felt a king in his little world and a
diplomatist into the bargain and beloved by all whose quiet and peace
he had assured. That evening made him rise in his own esteem and he
valued himself more highly than he had ever done before. Never had
he felt as happy as he felt now.
He had sent the carriage away and he walked home with Doddie. A
few early salesmen were going to market. Doddie, dog-tired and
half-asleep, dragged herself along on her father's arm ... until
some one passed close beside her and, feeling rather than seeing,
she suddenly shuddered. She looked up. The figure had passed. She
looked round and recognized the back of the hadji, hurrying away....
She turned cold and felt as though she would faint. But then,
wearily, walking in her sleep, she reflected that she was half
dreaming, dreaming of Addie, of Patjaram, of the moonlit night under
the tjemaras, where the white hadji had startled her at the end of
the avenue....