extremely old women, they continued to cling to their confusion of
generations, persons and names.

Constance, sitting beside Paul, watched Bertha. In an importunate
obsession to immerse herself in what she, at that moment, called her own
disgrace--especially as that disgrace had been stamped in print--she had
done nothing but ask Paul:

"Let me read it!"

And Paul had done nothing but say:

"No, Constance, don't read it!"

Constance now saw, by the faces of Van Naghel, Bertha and Marianne, that
they knew about it and had read it. All three said how-do-you-do to her
in a very cold tone.

Van Naghel was at once asked by Mamma to make up one of the tables. The
old woman, like Constance, had read nothing, knew nothing certain; but a
word seized here and there had alarmed her, had worried her; and she
felt very unhappy, as if on the verge of tears. She noticed in her
children, as it were for the first time, something strange and hard, in
the nervous excitement of that evening, something, it is true, which at
once hushed and calmed down when she approached, but which left a
strained feeling behind it, a lack of harmony which she did not
understand. Was it because of that scurrilous paper? Or did they
disapprove of Constance' going to Bertha's on her day? The old woman did
not know; but never had a Sunday evening passed with such difficulty;
and yet what was it all about? An article, a visit.... An article, a
visit.... She endeavoured, despairingly, to look upon these things as
small, as meaningless, as nothing; but it was no use: the question of
the visit was very important, an undoubted blunder on Constance' part;
and the article--Heavens, the article!--was, though she herself had not
read it, a disgrace, raking up the scandal of years ago which soiled and
defiled all her children, all, all her nearest and dearest. No, these
things were not insignificant: they were great and important things in
their lives. What, what could be more important than what might happen
through that visit to Bertha and--Heavens!--a scurrilous article?...

Bertha refused to play, declared that she hadn't the head for it. And,
though she had at first deliberately avoided Constance, she now seemed
constantly, almost fatally, to be moving nearer her, restlessly, unable
to keep her seat, amid the excitement which once more slowly took hold
of them all, after their first attempt at calmness from respect for
their brother-in-law, the cabinet-mi