me in the evening, except on Sundays, when they
went to Mamma van Lowe's. Notwithstanding their comfortable life, their
three servants and their carriage, they were thrifty. They considered it
a sin and a shame to spend money on a theatre, an exhibition, or a book.
Every spring and autumn, they bought what they needed for their house
and wardrobe, so as to have everything good and nice; but that was all.
Their one vice was their table. They lived exceedingly well, but kept
the fact from the family and always said that they lived so very simply
that they could never ask an unexpected visitor to stay. And, as they
never invited anybody, the secret of their dainty table did not leak
out. They had a first-rate cook and Cateau kept a tight rein upon her,
telling her that meneer was so particular. But they both feasted, daily.
And, at their meals, they would exchange a glance of intelligence, as
though relishing some voluptuous moment of mutual gratification, because
everything was so good. Softly smacking their lips, they drank a good
glass of good red wine. And then, at dessert, Karel's face beamed fiery
red and Cateau blinked her eyes, as though tickled to her marrow. Then
they went into the sitting-room and sat down at the round table, with
their hands folded in their laps, to digest in silence. Karel, for
appearance' sake, would undo the parcel from the circulating library.
Now and again, they looked at each other, reflecting complacently that
Anna had cooked that dinner beautifully. But, as they considered that
this enjoyment was sinful and, above all, un-Dutch, they never spoke of
their enjoyment and enjoyed in silence.

This evening, they reckoned out that they had quite an hour left in
which to digest their dinner by the big stove; and, as they did not like
Mamma's tea, they had a cup of tea at home. At eight o'clock, Sientje
came to say that the brougham was at the door. So as not to let the
brougham wait longer than necessary in the rain and spoil, they got up
at once, put on cloak and great-coat and started. They did not so much
mind if the horse got wet, for the horse was jobbed; but the brougham
was their own.

CHAPTER II

Dorine van Lowe lived by herself in a boarding-house, though old Mrs.
van Lowe had a large house in the Alexanderstraat. Their friends all
thought this odd; and Dorine was a little perplexed at having constantly
to explain that she would have liked nothing better than to live with
M