t know what. But it suddenly seemed
as though Auntie Tine, when she saw her younger sister, Mrs. van Lowe,
bursting into sobs, became very lucid, for, opening wide and clear her
screwed-up eyes, she said to Auntie Rine, very loudly, with the sharp
tone of a woman hard of hearing, to whom her own voice sounds soft and
almost whispering:

"Rine, Rine, Marie's crying!"

"What? Is she crying, Tine?"

"Yes, she's crying."

"What is she crying for?"

"No doubt, Rine, because one of the children's dead."

"Dead?"

"Yes, Rine."

"Oh, how sad! Is she crying?"

"Yes, she's crying. She's crying, Rine, about Gertrude."

"About whom?"

"About Gertrude. About Ger-tru-ude!" Auntie Rine began to scream. "She's
dead, Rine."

"Is she dead?"

"Yes, the poor little thing died at Buitenzorg."

"Oh, how sad! Is Marie still crying, Tine?"

"Yes, she's still crying, Rine."

"But then who's that one, Tine?"

"Who, Rine?"

"That one, the girl standing beside her? She's crying, she's crying
too!"

"Beside her?"

"Yes, can't you see? She's crying too!"

"Yes, yes!" screamed Tine, quite lucid now. "I know her; Rine, I know
her quite well, quite well."

"Then who is it? Is it Bertha?"

"No, Rine!" Auntie Tine screamed, gradually more and more shrilly,
always thinking that she was whispering in her deaf sister's ear. "It's
not Bertha. It's not Bertha. But I know her, I know her."

"Then who is she?" Auntie Rine screamed, in her turn.

"I'll tell you who she is. I'll tell you who she is. It's Constance!"
yelled Auntie Rine.

"Who?"

"Constance!"

"Constance?"

"Yes, Constance!"

"Constance?"

"Yes, Constance!"

"The bad one!" screamed Auntie Rine.

"Yes, Rine, the bad one, Rine. She's a wicked woman, Rine, a wicked
woman! She has a lover!..."

"A lover?"

"Yes, Rine. Can you understand her being here? Can you understand that
she's not ashamed? Can you understand her showing herself? Yes, Rine,
she's a wicked woman, she's ... she's...."

"What is she, Tine?"

"She's ... she's a trollop, Rine!" Auntie Tine yelled, shrilly. "A
common trollop! A trollop!"

"Christine!" cried Mrs. van Lowe. "Christine! Dorine!"

And she stood up and tottered, with outstretched arms, towards the two
old sisters. But there was a loud scream and a laugh that cut into
everybody like a knife: Constance had fainted in Paul's arms....

The boy, Addie, looked round with a haughty glance. He had heard
everything, as had V