Read Online The Hidden Force by Louis Couperus - Free Book Online

carefully twisted, and above all a striking stare, a stare as if he were in a perpetual trance, a stare that seemed to plumb visible reality and see through it, a stare from eyes like glowing coals, sometimes dull and tired, sometimes glowing like sparks of ecstasy and fanaticism. Among the native population—almostslavishly attached to their royal family—he had the reputation of holiness and mystery, though no one ever got to the bottom of the matter. Here, on Eva’s veranda, he simply made the puppet-like impression of a distinguished native prince: the only surprise was his trancelike expression. The sarong that fitted smoothly around his hips hung in front in a bunch of flat, regular pleats that fluttered open; he wore a white starched shirt with diamond studs and a thin blue tie, over it a blue linen uniform jacket with gold buttons bearing the letter W for Wilhelmina and the crown; on his bare feet he wore black patent leather pumps turned up at the front; the kerchief wound carefully round his head in narrow folds gave his delicate face a feminine look, but his black eyes, occasionally tired, kept flashing in an ecstatic trance. His blue and gold belt held the golden
kris
dagger, fixed at the small of his back; on his small, slim hand shone a gemstone, and a cigarette case of braided gold wire peeped out of his jacket pocket. He said little—sometimes he looked drowsy, then suddenly his strange eyes would flash into life—and he replied to what Léonie said almost exclusively with a curt, abrupt:
    “
Saya
… Your humble servant.”
    He pronounced the two syllables in a harsh, sibilant tone of politeness, giving each syllable equal emphasis, and accompanied the formula with a brief, automatic nod of the head. The
radèn-ayu
, seated beside Léonie, answered in the same way:
    “Saya…”
    Though she invariably followed it with a slightly embarrassed laugh. She was still very young, perhaps just turned eighteen. She was a princess from Solo, and Van Oudijck could not stand her, because she introduced Solo manners and Solo expressions into Labuwangi, in her arrogant assumption that nothing was as distinguished and purely aristocratic as the customs and expressions of the court of Solo. She used courtly words, which the population of Labuwangi did not understand, and she had forced on the Prince a coachman from Solo, complete with the royal livery, which included a wig and a false moustache, at which the population stared goggle-eyed. Her yellow complexion was made even paler by a light layer of rice powder, applied moist, the eyebrows slightly arched by a line of black; jewels were pinned in her hair, which she wore in a traditional glossy bun, and in the centre was a
kenanga
flower. Over a full-length batik robe, which according to the custom of the Solo court trailed in front of her, she wore a red brocade jacket trimmed with gold braid and fastened with three large jewels. Two fabulous gems, in heavy silver settings, weighed down her ear lobes. She wore light mesh stockings and gold-embroidered Chinese slippers. Her small, slender fingers were covered in rings, as if set with diamonds, and she carried a white feather fan.
    “
Saya
…
saya
…” she answered politely, with her shy laugh.
    Léonie paused for a moment, tired of the one-sided conversation. Once she had talked to the Prince and the
radèn-ayu
about their sons, there was little else for her to say. Van Oudijck, whom Eva had given a guided tour ofher galleries—since there was always something new to admire—rejoined his wife; the Prince rose to his feet.
    “Well, Prince,” Van Oudijck said, in Dutch. “How is
radènayu pangéran
, the Princess dowager?”
    He inquired about the widow of the old prince, Sunario’s mother.
    “Very well… thank you…” muttered the Prince in Malay. “But Mama has not come with us… so old… tires easily.”
    “I need to talk to you for a moment, Prince.”
    The Prince followed Van Oudijck onto the front