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Authors: Richard Mason
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the tragedies they lead to, and as he looked at her firmly, making his meaning plain, she abruptly abandoned the effort of seducing him—because she preferred to renounce a challenge rather than fail at it. She picked up a copy of
La Mode Illustrée
and buried herself behind it and later submitted to Louisa’s scalding mockery without much minding. For this was Constance Vermeulen-Sickerts’ essential genius: that she was able to desist from desiring what she could not have—a trick that, had they emulated it, might have saved her male acquaintances much misery.
P iet was right: Maarten Vermeulen-Sickerts was watching his behavior closely, and when Maarten saw him resist Constance’s assault he too wondered whether he was a uranist. But no. He was not like Mr. Blok. This made the young man’s restraint all the more creditable and induced in Maarten a warm paternal regard he demonstrated in all sorts of touching ways. He explained to Piet how successful enterprises are run: with iron confidence, flexibility, and a willingness to innovate. He took him over every inch of the house, describing its contents with the delight of the self-made connoisseur, and lingered in particular over the cabinets in his office and the statues of Paris, Athena and Aphrodite that reigned over the staircase hall.
It was Paris’ task, at the request of Zeus, king of the gods, to decide which of the goddesses was the most beautiful. “And that is why,” said Maarten, pointing upwards, “I never take sides between my daughters and my wife. Paris’ decision started the Trojan War.”
It did not occur to Maarten, as he watched Constance lay unsuccessful siege to Piet Barol and steeled himself to intervene if necessary, that it was not his daughters’ virtue the young man threatened but his wife’s. Jacobina betrayed no indication of remembering Piet’s first afternoon in the house, but she thought of it constantly and was not entirely relieved that Piet seemed to have forgotten it.
Jacobina was a woman who had lived her life correctly, even strictly, but this was because she had gradually lost the imagination to conceive of it otherwise and not the result of any great interior piety. Her youth’s sole act of rebellion had been to accept the proposal of the cunning, boisterous Maarten Vermeulen, when she might have made a titled alliance. This had been rewarded by her husband’s runaway success. But she had not been very impulsive since and Piet’s arrival made her rather regret this.
Jacobina had gone to bed on his first night quietly proud that a handsome young man had stared so saucily at her. The next morning she was horrified by what had happened and resolved to censure any future impudence. At first she was relieved when no opportunity to do so arose. For several weeks she rehearsed the chilling speech she would deliver when Mr. Barol made protracted eye contact with her again. When he did not she grew rather indignant, and her contradictory emotions annoyed her. She began to embroider a great deal, which gave her something to do with her hands in the evening while Piet and Maarten sang duets at the piano. During these impromptu performances, she found herself noticing the young man’s physique and contrasting her husband’s unfavorably with it. After one evening of particular study, she began to imagine Piet naked, and then to do so with a frequency that alarmed her. She rejoiced when Constance set out to seduce him, because any incorrectness on Piet’s part would get him dismissed and remove the temptation forever.
But Piet Barol did not behave incorrectly; and just once or twice she thought that it was at her, rather than her charming daughter, that he looked with the hunger she felt and tried not to show. She dreamed about him for the first time a month after his arrival, and in the dream he put his strong young body at her disposal. She woke from it aroused, and when Maarten had left she dismissed Agneta Hemels and
La Mode Illustrée
and buried herself behind it and later submitted to Louisa’s scalding mockery without much minding. For this was Constance Vermeulen-Sickerts’ essential genius: that she was able to desist from desiring what she could not have—a trick that, had they emulated it, might have saved her male acquaintances much misery.
P iet was right: Maarten Vermeulen-Sickerts was watching his behavior closely, and when Maarten saw him resist Constance’s assault he too wondered whether he was a uranist. But no. He was not like Mr. Blok. This made the young man’s restraint all the more creditable and induced in Maarten a warm paternal regard he demonstrated in all sorts of touching ways. He explained to Piet how successful enterprises are run: with iron confidence, flexibility, and a willingness to innovate. He took him over every inch of the house, describing its contents with the delight of the self-made connoisseur, and lingered in particular over the cabinets in his office and the statues of Paris, Athena and Aphrodite that reigned over the staircase hall.
It was Paris’ task, at the request of Zeus, king of the gods, to decide which of the goddesses was the most beautiful. “And that is why,” said Maarten, pointing upwards, “I never take sides between my daughters and my wife. Paris’ decision started the Trojan War.”
It did not occur to Maarten, as he watched Constance lay unsuccessful siege to Piet Barol and steeled himself to intervene if necessary, that it was not his daughters’ virtue the young man threatened but his wife’s. Jacobina betrayed no indication of remembering Piet’s first afternoon in the house, but she thought of it constantly and was not entirely relieved that Piet seemed to have forgotten it.
Jacobina was a woman who had lived her life correctly, even strictly, but this was because she had gradually lost the imagination to conceive of it otherwise and not the result of any great interior piety. Her youth’s sole act of rebellion had been to accept the proposal of the cunning, boisterous Maarten Vermeulen, when she might have made a titled alliance. This had been rewarded by her husband’s runaway success. But she had not been very impulsive since and Piet’s arrival made her rather regret this.
Jacobina had gone to bed on his first night quietly proud that a handsome young man had stared so saucily at her. The next morning she was horrified by what had happened and resolved to censure any future impudence. At first she was relieved when no opportunity to do so arose. For several weeks she rehearsed the chilling speech she would deliver when Mr. Barol made protracted eye contact with her again. When he did not she grew rather indignant, and her contradictory emotions annoyed her. She began to embroider a great deal, which gave her something to do with her hands in the evening while Piet and Maarten sang duets at the piano. During these impromptu performances, she found herself noticing the young man’s physique and contrasting her husband’s unfavorably with it. After one evening of particular study, she began to imagine Piet naked, and then to do so with a frequency that alarmed her. She rejoiced when Constance set out to seduce him, because any incorrectness on Piet’s part would get him dismissed and remove the temptation forever.
But Piet Barol did not behave incorrectly; and just once or twice she thought that it was at her, rather than her charming daughter, that he looked with the hunger she felt and tried not to show. She dreamed about him for the first time a month after his arrival, and in the dream he put his strong young body at her disposal. She woke from it aroused, and when Maarten had left she dismissed Agneta Hemels and
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