Louis Couperus - The Hidden Force

He himself regained in the process a strange kind of calm, the calm of weariness, of letting himself go, of being stuck in his familiar Labuwangi, of going native in his provincial post, of not having to go to Batavia, where things were so completely different. When at his last audience the Governor General had mentioned a European leave, he had felt a fear of Europe — a fear of no longer feeling at home there — now he felt the same fear even of Batavia. Yet he was only too familiar with all the quasi-Western humbug of the place; he knew the capital of Java put on very European airs, and in reality was only half-European. In himself — unbeknown to his wife, who regretted the shattered illusion of Batavia — he was secretly amused that he had been able to ensure that he stayed in Labuwangi. But that amusement showed him that he was changed, aged, diminished, eyes no longer fixed on the path upward, assuming a higher and higher position in human society, which had always been the path of his life. What had happened to his ambition? How had his domineering drive slackened? He attributed everything to the effect of the climate. It would certainly be good if he could refresh his blood and his mind in Europe. But instantly that thought dissolved for want of will. No, he didn’t want to go to Europe. He was fond of the Indies. He gave himself over to long reflections, lying in an easy chair, enjoying his coffee, his airy clothes, the gentle weakening of his muscles, the aimless drowsy flow of his thoughts. The only sharp-edged element of that drowsy flow was his ever-increasing suspicion, and he would suddenly wake from his torpor and listen to the vague sound, the faint suppressed laughter that he imagined he heard from Léonie’s room, just as at night, suspicious of ghosts, he listened to the muffled sounds of the garden and the rat above his head.

ADDY WAS SITTING with Mrs Van Does on the small back veranda of her house when they heard a carriage rattle to a halt outside. They looked at each other with a smile, and got up.

“I’ll leave you alone,” said Mrs Van Does, and she disappeared to ride around town in a dos-à-dos carriage doing business with friends.

Léonie entered.

“Where’s Mrs Van Does?” she asked, acting each time as if it were the first: that was her great attraction.

He knew this and replied: “She’s just popped out for a moment. She’ll be sorry not to have seen you…”

He spoke in this way because he knew that she liked it: each time the ceremonial beginning in order to maintain the freshness of their liaison.

They sat down on a divan in the small enclosed central gallery, he next to her.

The divan had been covered with a piece of brightly patterned cretonne; the white walls were covered with some cheap fans and Japanese scroll paintings, and on either side of a small mirror there were two imitation bronze statues on pedestals: unspecified knights, one leg forward, a spear in hand. Through the glass door the grubby rear veranda was dimly visible, the pillars greenish yellow and damp, the flowerpots also greenish yellow, with a few withered rose bushes; the damp garden beyond was overgrown, with a pair of scrawny coconut palms, their leaves drooping like snapped feathers.

He drew her into his arms, but she pushed him back gently.

“Doddy is insufferable,” she said. “We must put an end to it.”

“How do we do that?”

“She must leave home. She’s so irritable, I can’t do a thing with her.”

“You tease her, too.”

She shrugged her shoulders, out of humour after a tiff with her stepdaughter.

“I used not to tease her, she used to love me, we used to get on very well. Now she explodes at the least thing. It’s your fault. Those eternal evening walks that lead nowhere are playing on her nerves.”

“It’s better they don’t lead anywhere,” he murmured, with his seducer’s smile. “But still I can’t break it off, because that would hurt her, and I can never hurt a woman.”

She laughed disparagingly.

“Yes, you’re so kind-hearted. You’d spread your favours far and wide out of the goodness of your heart. But whatever happens, she’s leaving home.”

“Where will she go?”

“Don’t ask such stupid questions!” she cried angrily, jerked out of her usual indifference. “Away, away, she’s going away: I couldn’t care less where. You know that once I say something, it happens. And this, this will happen.”

He took her in his arms.

“You’re so angry. You’re not beautiful at all like that…”

Upset, she didn’t want to let herself be kissed at first, but he didn’t like such upsets and was well aware of the power of his irresistible, handsome, Moorish masculinity, and overpowered her with brute force, smiling all the while and hugging her so tightly that she couldn’t move.

“You mustn’t be angry any more…”

“Oh yes I must… I hate Doddy.”

“The poor child has done you no harm.”

“That’s as may be…”

“You, on the other hand, tease her.”

“Because I hate her…”

“But why? Surely you’re not jealous?…”

She laughed loudly.

“No! That’s not in my nature.”

“Why then?”

“What’s it to you? I don’t know myself. I hate her. I enjoy teasing her.”

“Are you as bad as you’re beautiful?”

“What’s bad? How should I know! I’d like to tease you too, if only I knew how.”

“And I’d like to give you a good hiding.”

Again she laughed aloud.

“Perhaps that might do me good now,” she admitted. “I’m seldom upset, but Doddy!..”

She tensed her fingers and, suddenly calmer, she snuggled up to him and put her arms round his body.

“I used to be very indifferent,” she confessed. “Recently I’ve become much more nervous, since I had such a fright in that bathroom, after they spat betel juice all over me. Do you think it was ghosts, spirits at work? I don’t think so. It was the Prince taunting us. Those wretched Javanese know all sorts of things… But since that time I’ve been thrown off course. Do you understand that expression?… It used to be wonderful: everything ran off me like water off a duck’s back. Since I was so ill, I seem to have changed, become more nervous. Theo, when he was angry with me once, said that since then I’ve been hysterical… which I used not to be. I don’t know: perhaps he’s right. But I’ve certainly changed… I care less about people; I think I’m becoming very brazen… The gossip is also more spiteful than it used to be… Van Oudijck annoys me, snooping around like that… He’s starting to notice things… And Doddy, Doddy!.. I’m not jealous, but I can’t stand those evening strolls she has with you… You mustn’t do it any more, go for walks with her… I won’t stand for it any more, I won’t… Everything bores me here in Labuwangi… What a miserable, monotonous existence… Surabaya bores me too… So does Batavia… Everything here is so dull: people never think up anything new. I’d like to go to Paris… I think I’m made of the right stuff to enjoy myself there.”

“Do I bore you, too?”

“You?”

She stroked his face with her hands, his chest, down to his legs.

“Shall I tell you something? You’re a handsome lad, but you’re too good-natured, which irritates me, too. You kiss anyone who wants to be kissed by you. At Pajaram you slobber over your old mother, your sisters, everyone. I think that’s terrible of you!”

He laughed.

“You’re getting jealous!” he exclaimed.

“Jealous? Am I really getting jealous? It’s terrible if I am. I don’t know… I don’t want to. I still believe that there’s something that will always protect me.”