William Verstork was destined to keep his appointment with his friends; but it was not at all in the way he intended. When he promised to meet them he thought that he would, as usual, ride over to Santjoemeh on the Saturday afternoon and stay until Monday morning. It was, however, not to be so. On Thursday morning Charles van Nerekool and Edward van Rheijn received a letter inviting them to go to Banjoe Pahit.
“That will be,” wrote Verstork to his two friends, “a complete change of parts. Hitherto I have been your guest, but now I insist upon appearing in the character of host. Of host!—surely my pen must be playing tricks with me. Yes, indeed, for in order to play the host, one must be able to show hospitality—no, no—hospitality is not the right word; but in order to play the host one must be able to provide for one’s friends; and though I know well enough that you would not at all object [110]to put up with my poor controller’s lodging and with my still more humble dish of rice—yet I do not intend to offer you such meagre fare. Where I shall stow you away I really don’t know, nor can I tell where you will find your entertainment. There’s a fine invitation! I hear you exclaim. Yet, my dear friends, I feel quite certain that you will accept it. Just hear what I have to say. For some time past the maize fields of the inhabitants of my division, have been ravaged by wild boars, these have, in fact, of late become a real plague; and the dessa Kaligaweh is the principal scene of their nightly depredations. The main body of these formidable poachers finds, I am told, a refuge in the wild bush which surrounds the Djoerang (ravine) Pringapoes. This djoerang is a wild mountain cleft, and is situated very nearly in the centre of my division; the two dessas Banjoe Pahit and Kaligaweh, which are about five miles apart, lie on the outskirts of it; the one in the hilly country and the other in the lower grounds sloping down to the sea-shore. I have made up my mind to clear my district, as far as I can, of these mischievous creatures, and, for that purpose, I intend next Saturday and Sunday to hold a battue. I cannot possibly take any other days for it, as I cannot, at any other time, be away from my office. You see, therefore, my dear friends, that my letter to you is ‘Une invitation à la chasse,’ and that kind of thing, I know, you will not refuse. On Saturday morning I will send you a couple of first-rate horses which the wedono has offered me for the use of such of my friends as may like to join in the sport. I suppose that you will, both of you, be able to knock off work at about two o’clock; you will then want an hour to have a bath and to get your shooting-coats on. Pray don’t forget a pair of tall gaiters, which in our rough country and among our thorny bushes, you will find absolutely necessary. So that, say at three o’clock, you can be in the saddle. If you will only give your horses their heads I know they will easily carry you six miles an hour, so that at about five o’clock you will be at my house. That is agreed upon, is it not?”
“Certainly, by all means,” cried Charles and Edward both together, as if they wished to convey their acceptance of his invitation to the writer at Banjoe Pahit.
Said van Nerekool: “I must go and have a look at my gun, and I should think it would be well to take a couple of revolvers.”
“Of course,” said van Rheijn, “William says so in his letter. [111]Just hear what he goes on to say. ‘Look well to your firearms, and see that they are in good order, for I can tell you that these pigs, when they are roused from their lair, are not by any means contemptible foes. You must, beside your guns, bring revolvers or, at least, a good hunting-knife, one you can fix on the end of your rifle, as a sword-bayonet.’?”
“The devil we must!” said van Nerekool, “where in the world must I get all these things from? I shall have to try and borrow them somewhere I suppose. I have got a pretty good shot-gun of my own, but I can’t fix a bayonet to it. I don’t think it is much use except for shooting rice-birds, or sparrows. I must somehow manage to get hold of a rifle.”
“Well,” said van Rheijn, “the Regent of Santjoemeh, Radhen Mas Toemenggoeng Pringgoe Kesoemo has, I know, a splendid repeating rifle and a yatagan, and the Vice Regent has a pair of excellent Le Faucheux central-fire revolvers. I have no doubt they will gladly lend them to you.”
“Then the best thing for me to do is to go and pay a visit at the Regent’s house,” said van Nerekool.
“There is no need whatever to do that,” said van Rheijn. “There is to be a grand reception and ball at the Residence to-night. On such an occasion those native grandees are not at all likely to be absent. You will be there, I presume?” he continued, with a very meaning smile.
“Certainly,” cried van Nerekool, with much warmth, “do you think I would—?”
“Lose an opportunity of a dance with pretty Miss Anna?” asked van Rheijn, finishing the sentence for him. “Well, you can at the same time ask for the loan of the weapons, that will save you a tedious call upon those Javanese worthies, But—”
“Well, but—what?” asked van Nerekool, “what do you mean?”
“Do you know how to handle a rifle?”
“Oh, you need not trouble yourself about that,” replied van Nerekool, “I was always practising shooting at Leyden, and they used to consider me a very good shot, too.”
That evening the Residence at Santjoemeh was most brilliantly illuminated. In the spacious outer gallery, in the inner gallery, in the pandoppo, in the side-rooms, in fact on all sides, rich chandeliers were glittering in the stately mansion. The innumerable jets of gas surrounded by globes of ground glass cast a bright, yet pleasantly softened light over the handsome apartments, and even over such parts of the garden as immediately [112]surrounded the house. But there, amidst the shrubs and flowers, the gaslight had to compete with the brightly shining moon, a competition in which man’s invention could not hope to gain the advantage. The Queen of Night was casting over everything her placid white light; houses, roads, grassy lawns, shrubs and flowers lay bathed in her radiance; and wherever her beams glided through the branches they shed a dim, uncertain twilight, which was gentle as a caress, and mysterious as the vision of a dream. The glare of the gas, on the other hand, surrounded the building as with a reddish circle, in which, it is true, everything was brilliantly lighted, but in which every object seemed touched, as it were, with an unclean finger, when compared with the lily white hue of the natural illumination outside. This reddish circle grew fainter and fainter as it spread farther from its centre. For some little distance the gaslight seemed to soil the absolute purity of the moonbeams; but gradually their lily-white prevailed, and calmly rested upon the landscape beyond. In front of the house there was a splendid avenue of Kanarie trees which led from the domain to Santjoemeh. At that hour of night, when seen from the front gallery, the gas-jets, by which the avenue was partially lighted, looked in the moonlight which fell through the tufted trees, like so many big fire-flies, and, in the soft breeze which barely moved the foliage, they threw on the well-kept gravel path, the most fantastic shapes which seemed to run after each other in perpetual chase.
In the far distance more fire-flies were seen, red, green, blue, yellow, all the colours of the rainbow, in fact. These were the carriage-lamps of those who were coming to attend the reception and ball, and who thus, by different coloured lamps, gave notice of their approach.
The front gallery was as yet empty, only the daughter of the house stood for a few moments at the balustrade looking down the whole length of the avenue.
Said she to herself: “Yon red light which glitters so brightly is the carriage of the assistant-resident of police, he always has the right of precedence. And that blue one is Mr. Zuidhoorn’s, and that violet—Ah, there right away in the distance, that green—I must be off—the foremost carriage is almost in the grounds—However, I am glad van Nerekool is coming—It would never do for him to see me looking out.” She turned and joined her parents, who, having been told by [113]the Chief Constable that the guests were approaching, had entered the inner gallery. Anna took her place by the side of her mother ready to receive and to return the greetings of the visitors. Mr. van Gulpendam, however, first went to have a look in the front gallery. He was dressed very simply in black evening coat without any official badge or distinction whatever, though the pajoeng stand figured conspicuously enough at the end of the gallery. He walked to the balustrade and cast a look outside. Down below at the foot of the broad flight of steps which on both sides gave access to the front gallery, a couple of sentinels were marching up and down with shouldered arms. They regulated their walk, so that they met in front of the middle of the gallery, then, in turning round they took care that the tips of their bayonets should just clash together, a sound which evidently was as sweet as heavenly music in the Resident’s ears. At all events he looked down with much complacency upon the two sentinels and thrust forward his chest as one who would say: “Look, that is the homage due to my exalted rank and transcendent merit.”
Close by the main building, but a little on one side of it, a small temporary pavilion had been erected, and upon it also the Resident bestowed a look. The bandsmen of the militia at Santjoemeh, dressed in full uniform, had just arrived, and were engaged there in arranging their desks and opening their music-books and making other preparations. A condescending nod to the bandmaster showed that Mr. van Gulpendam was in an excellent humour. Thereupon he turned and joined his wife and daughter.
“Those fellows,” said he, “don’t seem to drive very fast, however, they are heaving in sight now.”
Fair Laurentia, proud as any queen, had taken up her position in the middle of the inner gallery, in front of a sofa which had been placed there on purpose before a valuable Japanese screen. She held in one hand a splendid bouquet of the rarest flowers, while from the wrist of the other dangled her curiously carved ivory fan, a weapon which the lady knew how to handle most becomingly. She was clad sumptuously in a black satin dress, which set off wonderfully well the perfection of her ample form. The corsage, reduced to the very limits modesty would allow, that is to say that it was sleeveless and cut down very deep in the back and very low in front, gave an ample view of her finely formed and well rounded arms, of her splendid [114]shoulders which looked as if carved out of alabaster, and of a bosom which might have moved Venus Kallipyga to envy. One line lower, and that corsage would not have been able to contain the charms which it had to confine within almost too narrow compass. An exceedingly elaborate coiffure sustained the dark-brown locks of her stately head by means of a magnificent diadem glowing with precious stones, while a number of coquettish little curls straying over her clear white forehead, imparted to the sparkling dark eyes of the beautiful woman an uncommonly seductive fire. Round her neck she wore the blood-coral necklace with diamond clasps which M?Bok Karijah had handed to her, and on her wrists glittered the two serpent bracelets of old gold with diamond eyes which she had so greatly admired on the nonna of the Chinese major, and which had wrung from Lim Ho an imprecation accompanied by the words, “Betoel, njonja mahal!”
By her side stood her daughter Anna, who by the absolute simplicity of her attire, formed the strangest possible contrast with her mother. However much Laurentia had tried, nothing would induce Anna to appear in a low-necked dress. Her corsage, which like the dress was of rose-coloured silk, was modestly closed around the neck, yet did not prevent the imagination from picturing to itself the treasures which it modelled with perfect exactness. For jewellery of any kind, the pretty girl had a positive distaste. One simple Malmaison rose glowed in her dark glossy hair, which was dressed as plainly as possible, but the wealth of which she was not able to conceal. On her bosom a little bud of tea-rose attracted attention to its delicately shaded yellow tints, while it dispersed thoughts which, at that modestly veiled yet finely modelled bust, might perhaps be tempted to take too wild a flight.
“How absurd of you it is, Anna,” said Mrs. van Gulpendam, crossly enough, as she surveyed her daughter from head to foot with a sarcastic smile, “to appear at an evening party so shabbily dressed as that! Why, your late governess used to make a better figure. People would take her for the daughter of the house, and you for the governess.”
In a certain sense the worldly woman was right enough. The late governess she alluded to was a frivolous Parisienne, who had in every way encouraged Mrs. van Gulpendam in her tastes, and had even urged her on to greater extravagance. Thus she had got into the good graces of the mistress of the house, and—evil tongues used to whisper—[115]she stood very high in favour with the Resident also. But be this true or false, this much is certain that Mademoiselle Hélène Fouillée had no more succeeded in corrupting the mind of the young girl entrusted to her care, than in spoiling her naturally excellent taste. It was not Anna’s intention to reply to her mother’s ill natured remark, even had she had time to do so. At that moment was heard the sound of feet mounting the broad steps which led to the front gallery, and in a few seconds, in came a number of young gentlemen of different races, some with white cheeks, some with brown, some with fair hair, and some with black locks heavily oiled and stiff as pipe stems, all in correct evening dress, with the starchiest collars, and with opera-hats under their arms. These were, as Mr. van Gulpendam used to style them, the ordinary seamen of the feast, who had to keep up the liveliness of the mess; and who were expected to stand always ready by the signal halliards. With this peculiar figurative language he meant to convey that these young gentlemen were expected to hold themselves in readiness for any emergency. Most of them were cl............