perficial good-nature and an affectation of kind-heartedness. He was
always blundering out things that fell like a sledge-hammer. He at once
filled the whole room with his blustering joviality, his ponderous
efforts to make himself agreeable. His sister, Mrs. van Lowe, so gentle,
so distinguished, was always afraid that he would break something.
Auntie was a rich _nonna_,[1] who had brought the sugar-factory as her
dowry: she too was heavy and fat, like a Hindu idol, and covered with
big diamonds; still, there was something kind and friendly about her:
looking at her, you had a vision of a spicy rice-table[2] and toothsome
_kwee-kwee_;[3] a promise of material comfort, of a lavish supply of
good things to eat and drink. And, with it all, she was not
unsympathetic, with her soft, dark eyes. They brought with them their
three daughters and two sons: the two elder girls of Dorine's age, gay
and boisterous, regular natives; a son of twenty-eight, who was also in
the sugar-business, when in Java; a third daughter, a couple of years
younger; and the youngest son, a little brown fellow, fifteen years old,
very short and thin, who seemed to have come much later, by accident.
All the Van Lowes--though Mamma was born in India and Papa had made his
way there until he reached the highest office of all--were ultra-Dutch
and always laughed a little at the Ruyvenaers, while cheerfully
resigning themselves to the Indian strain, which shocked them a bit,
made them a trifle uncomfortable in the presence of their purely Dutch
friends and connections. Still, the old lady, whose family-affection was
very strong, declared that they were in their right place there, even
though Uncle Ruyvenaer was only her half-brother and Auntie very Indian;
for Mamma van Lowe carried her family-pride to the point of maintaining
that all that formed part of the family was good. To be related to the
Van Lowes seemed, in a sense, to ennoble, to exalt, to improve the very
stock. And so she always looked severe when her children--Gerrit,
Adolphine and Paul--laughed at Aunt Ruyvenaer and the Indian nieces, who
were good children, always cheerful, always amiable, bright and
pleasant.

Uncle was very noisy, strode up and down the rooms, with straddling
legs, to warm himself:

"So we shall see Constance here to-night? Well, it's a long time since
we did. Let me see: how long is it? How long is it, Marie? Twenty years?
Yes, it must be twenty years! At least, I haven'