to be gay; and every one thought that he was gay, the
gay undergraduate; and the poor boy was miserable; and yesterday I had
to appear in that tableau; and Floortje was so horrid and spiteful; and
Henri and Frans had a dialogue to do; and the poor boy couldn't speak
his words; and I ask you, Auntie, why all this unhappiness, when we were
so happy together?"

She clenched her fists and, through her sobs, suddenly began to laugh
aloud:

"Oh, Auntie!... Ha, ha!... Oh, Auntie!... Don't mind what I say! I am
mad, I am mad, but it's they who are driving me mad: Mamma, the boys,
the servants, the _baboe_, Frances and the children! It's one great
merry-go-round! Ha, ha!... Did you ever see such an everlasting rush as
we have in this house?"

She was now sobbing and laughing together; and suddenly she remembered
that she had let herself go too much with a strange aunt and that Mamma
did not like these spontaneous confidences to strangers; and, because
she wanted to recover herself, she suddenly became rather dignified and
asked:

"Did you enjoy yourself fairly yesterday, Aunt Constance?"

"Yes, Marianne, I thought it very nice to be back among you all."

"Don't you like Brussels better than the Hague?"

"It was so quiet for us, lately, in Brussels."

"Rome, I should like to see Rome."

"Yes, Rome is beautiful."

They were now silent and they both felt that things of the past parted
them, the new, strange aunt, who had come back from the past, and the
young girl, who was suddenly afraid of it.

And, without understanding why, Marianne sighed, in the midst of this
shrinking fear:

"Oh, for a joy, a real joy that would fill me entirely! No more dinners
and dresses and excitement about nothing, but a real joy, a great joy!"

She felt so strange, so giddy, but she still found strength to say:

"It's a pity that you were away from us so long. We should always have
liked you and Uncle very much, but now you are both so strange still, to
all of us."

"Yes," replied Constance, very wearily.

And she did not understand why she suddenly felt very sad, as though,
after all, for manifold reasons, she had not done well to come back,
though there had been that hunger for her own people, her own kith and
kin....

"A joy, a great joy!" Marianne again sighed, softly.

And she pressed her hands to her breast, as though distressed by her
strange longing....

[10] Maid, nurse.

[11] What is it?

[12] The young mistres