e my own back; and yet my coat sits
well, doesn't it? A dress-coat is a very tricky thing. Nowadays, there
is hardly a tailor who can cut a good dress-coat. Yes, my waistcoat is
very smart: just look at it. The buttons are smart, aren't they? They
are uncut sapphires. Yes, you have a smart little brother.... Come, take
my arm and let's walk round the room. Have you heard: they're all
furious, the Ruyvenaers, the Saetzemas, Karel and Cateau, because they
were not asked to the first party? The idea was to give it before the
signing of the contract, but Otto's arrival came and upset it. He's
another failure, that Otto, with his little tissue-paper wife.... Look
at those Van Ravens, Connie. They're hanging on for all they're worth to
Van Naghel and Bertha, lest they should be degraded at being seen with
the Saetzemas.... Tell me, Connie: are you glad to be back? Are you
really fond of all these relations?... I don't believe I have that
family-affection which you and Mamma have; and Bertha; and Dorine.
Bertha has it in her own house; Dorine and Mamma go scattering
kindnesses broadcast over all the children and grandchildren.... I say,
Connie, this is what people call enjoying themselves, because two of
them are going to get married. But look all round: there's not a soul
really enjoying himself. And that's what Van Naghel and Bertha spend a
couple of thousand guilders on: giving them some dinner and a dance and
letting them gaze at my Luxury, with Floortje dancing on top of
Marianne. Look at those faces. Not one is naturally cheerful. Nature,
nature, Connie: there's no such thing as nature among people like
ourselves! We have not a gesture, not a word, not even a thought that is
natural. It's all pose and humbug with every one of us; and nobody is
taken in by it. Really, it's a disgusting business, a society like ours,
what one calls good society. Can't you understand an anarchist loving to
fling a bomb into the midst of us: for instance, at Uncle Ruyvenaer's
stomach? No anarchist likes a stomach: the stomach is the trademark of
the bourgeois.... Now they're going to dance: look how hideously they're
spinning round the room. Just like palsied sparrows. We human beings are
much too solemn and heavy to dance with any grace. Look, it's almost
ghastly. Through all that pretence at elegance and smartness and dancing
and gaiety, you can see that one has a stomach-ache and another a
head-ache, that Van Naghel is thinking of how they