a card-holder!... Constance, won't you cut in after this rubber?"

Constance was sure that they were still talking about her:

"No, thanks, Uncle; I really don't feel like playing to-night...."

Her voice sounded faint, in spite of herself.... She stopped for a
moment, but, when nobody else spoke, she moved on aimlessly, leaning on
Dorine's arm.... She felt contented and yet strange, in those rooms, in
which she saw herself as she was on that last day, the day of her
marriage with De Staffelaer; she could see herself at the
wedding-breakfast and afterwards, when the time came to say good-bye....
Since then, her own people had become strangers to her.

Like a little child, she went in search of her mother, who was talking
to Aunt Ruyvenaer, sat down in a chair by her and took her hand....

"Well, Constance, it is nice, to have you back again!" said Auntie,
energetically, laying a firm, Indian stress on her words. "So nice for
Mamma too, _kassian!_ Where are you staying now?"

"At the Hotel des Indes, for the present, Auntie.... As soon as Van der
Welcke arrives from Brussels, we shall look out for a house."

"I am so curious to meet your husband."

Constance gave a vague laugh....

"Do you often go to India, Auntie?"

"Yes, child, almost every year: Uncle likes going ... because of the
business, Daranginongan, the sugar. And then home again, on our
return-tickets. Oh, it's so easy, with the French mail.... No trouble at
all.... And Alima, my maid ... she knows everything ... knows Paris, the
custom-office, does everything, helps Uncle with the tickets.... You
should see her: dressed just like a lady, stays and all, splendid; you'd
laugh till you cried!... How long did you live in Brussels?"

"We were eight years in Brussels."

"Small, Brussels, I think, compared with Paris. What made you go to
Brussels? Tell me."

"Well, Auntie," laughed Constance, "we had to live somewhere! We used to
travel a great deal besides. We were often on the Riviera. But suddenly
I got terribly homesick for Holland, for Mamma, for all of you. Then I
talked about it to Van der Welcke, about moving to the Hague; and he too
was longing to get back to his country. And there was Adriaan, my boy:
he's thirteen now; and we wanted him to have a Dutch education...."

"Does your son talk Dutch?"

"Of course he does, Auntie."

"What is he going to be?"

Constance hesitated:

"He'll probably enter the diplomatic service," she said, in