benevolence that had descended on the whole family, and apart from that he was like a beautiful animal that had degenerated spiritually and mentally, degenerated into one big emptiness. His body had become like a resurrection of racial perfection, full of strength and beauty, while his marrow and his blood and his flesh and his muscles had developed into a harmony of physical attraction, so utterly, mindlessly, beautifully sensual that the harmony had an immediate appeal for women. The young man had only to appear, like a beautiful southern god, for every woman’s eyes to be on him, and absorb him deep into their imaginations so they could later summon him up in their mind’s eye; the young man had only to come to a ball after the races at Ngajiwa for all the young girls to fall in love with him. He plucked love wherever he found it, and he found it particularly abundant in the villages around Pajaram. Every woman was in love with him, from his mother to his littlenieces. Doddy van Oudijck worshipped him. She had been in love hundreds of times since the age of seven, with anyone whom she spied with her bright eyes, but never before as she was with Addy. It radiated so strongly from her that it was like a flame everyone could see, and that made them smile. For her, the milling party had been one round of enchantment… when she danced with him; one round of torture… when he danced with anyone else. He had not proposed, but she was thinking of proposing to
him
, and dying if he refused. She knew that her father, the Commissioner, was opposed; he did not like the De Luce family, that Solo-French crowd, as he called them. But if Addy wanted to, her father would give in, because otherwise she, Doddy, would die. For this child of love, the young Eros was the whole world, the universe, life itself. He courted her, kissed her secretly on the lips, but no more than in the thoughtless way he did with others; he kissed other girls, too. If he was allowed to, he went further, quite naturally, like a devastating young god, an unthinking god. But he still had some respect for the commissioner’s daughter. He had neither courage nor impudence, and lacked much passion in his choices, seeing women as women and so sated with conquest that obstacles were not a stimulus. His garden was full of flowers, all of which strained towards him; he stretched out his hand almost without seeing, and just plucked.
While they rocked around the table, they saw him approaching through the garden and every woman’s eyes were trained on him as on a young seducer arriving in the sunshine,which was like a radiant garland around him. The dowager
radèn-ayu
smiled and looked at her youngest son with love, her favourite. Behind her, squatting on the ground, the golden foster-child peered wide-eyed; the sisters peered, the nieces peered, Doddy peered, and Léonie van Oudijck’s milk-white complexion was tinged with a pink shade that merged with the glow of her smile. Automatically she glanced at Theo and their eyes met. And these souls that were all burning love—their eyes, mouths, flesh—understood each other, and Theo’s jealousy blazed so fiercely in her direction that the pink shade faded and she turned pale and was afraid, with a sudden unreasoning, shuddering fear that pierced her usual indifference, while the Seducer, in his halo of sunshine, came closer and closer…
2
M RS VAN OUDIJCK had promised to stay on for a few days in Pajaram, and in fact she was rather apprehensive, not feeling quite at home in these old-fashioned Indies surroundings. But when Addy appeared, she changed her mind. Deep in her heart this woman worshipped her sensuality, as if in the temple of her selfishness this milky-white Creole woman sacrificed all the intimacy of her rose-tinted imagination to her unquenchable desire, and in that worship she had arrived at an art, a knowledge, a science, of ascertaining with a single glance what attracted her in any man who was
him
, and dying if he refused. She knew that her father, the Commissioner, was opposed; he did not like the De Luce family, that Solo-French crowd, as he called them. But if Addy wanted to, her father would give in, because otherwise she, Doddy, would die. For this child of love, the young Eros was the whole world, the universe, life itself. He courted her, kissed her secretly on the lips, but no more than in the thoughtless way he did with others; he kissed other girls, too. If he was allowed to, he went further, quite naturally, like a devastating young god, an unthinking god. But he still had some respect for the commissioner’s daughter. He had neither courage nor impudence, and lacked much passion in his choices, seeing women as women and so sated with conquest that obstacles were not a stimulus. His garden was full of flowers, all of which strained towards him; he stretched out his hand almost without seeing, and just plucked.
While they rocked around the table, they saw him approaching through the garden and every woman’s eyes were trained on him as on a young seducer arriving in the sunshine,which was like a radiant garland around him. The dowager
radèn-ayu
smiled and looked at her youngest son with love, her favourite. Behind her, squatting on the ground, the golden foster-child peered wide-eyed; the sisters peered, the nieces peered, Doddy peered, and Léonie van Oudijck’s milk-white complexion was tinged with a pink shade that merged with the glow of her smile. Automatically she glanced at Theo and their eyes met. And these souls that were all burning love—their eyes, mouths, flesh—understood each other, and Theo’s jealousy blazed so fiercely in her direction that the pink shade faded and she turned pale and was afraid, with a sudden unreasoning, shuddering fear that pierced her usual indifference, while the Seducer, in his halo of sunshine, came closer and closer…
2
M RS VAN OUDIJCK had promised to stay on for a few days in Pajaram, and in fact she was rather apprehensive, not feeling quite at home in these old-fashioned Indies surroundings. But when Addy appeared, she changed her mind. Deep in her heart this woman worshipped her sensuality, as if in the temple of her selfishness this milky-white Creole woman sacrificed all the intimacy of her rose-tinted imagination to her unquenchable desire, and in that worship she had arrived at an art, a knowledge, a science, of ascertaining with a single glance what attracted her in any man who was
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