so
much had happened in Rome, oh, so much! Her life had happened, her life
of mistake upon mistake. How could she talk the usual commonplaces now?
She saw herself here, twenty years ago, coming back from church, in her
white bridal dress; she saw her father, now dead; she saw De Staffelaer;
she saw herself, after she had changed into her travelling-dress, saying
good-bye, going away with De Staffelaer.... Since then ... since then,
she had never been back! Since then, her father had died! Since then,
she had only twice seen her dear mother, for a moment, at Brussels. Oh,
since then!... Since then, all her brothers and sisters had become
strangers to her; and she herself had been a stranger, never in Holland,
always abroad, always an alien.... Now ... now she was back! Was it
possible? Was it a dream?...

Her brother-in-law, Van Naghel, the cabinet-minister, came up to her:

"We are very glad to see you at the Hague, Constance."

"Thank you, Van Naghel."

"And shall we soon be making Van der Welcke's acquaintance?"

There was something in his words as though he were forcing the
situation, for Mamma van Lowe's sake.

"He has some business to settle in Brussels. He will be here in a week."

It was very difficult to keep up the conversation; and he was silent.

"So one of your girl's is engaged?" she asked, tactfully diverting the
talk from herself.

"Yes, Emilie, the second. Emilie!"

He beckoned to his daughter. Emilie came up, bringing Van Raven with
her:

"May I introduce Mr. van Raven, Aunt Constance?"

"Van Raven." And she gave him her hand. "My best wishes for your
happiness, Emilie."

"Thank you, Aunt."

"And there's another wedding in prospect," said Mamma. "Floortje and
Dijkerhof...."

And she beckoned to Floortje, who introduced Dijkerhof.

Meanwhile, the members of the family tried to behave as usual. They
talked together, as though in ordinary conversation. Uncle Ruyvenaer
arranged the parties at the card-tables:

"Karel, Toetie, Louise, Gerrit.... Bertha, Cateau, Van Saetzema,
Ernst...."

His voice marshalled the troops. The younger generation were put to play
round games at a long table in the conservatory.

Constance gave a soft laugh:

"What a lot of us there are, Mamma, at your Sundays!"

What a lot of _us_: the word had a special charm for her.

Meanwhile, Uncle Ruyvenaer was teasing his two old sisters:

"Come Rientje and Tientje.... Don't you want to play bridge?"

"What