longer very young.
"Is anyone here technically minded?"
"I'll see to it. Where are the fuses, Grandmother?"
"On top of the electric meter, in the cupboard next to the stairs down to the cellar."
"Someone must have been messing about with them. You don't get a short-circuit just like that."
"I'll go and have a look up in the attic, at the little ones."
"Ouch!"
"Someone must have been using that wretched toaster again. Coba?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Did you use that toaster?"
"No, ma'am."
"Look and see if there are any candles left in the sideboard."
"Yes, ma'am."
The only light in the rooms was that cast by the streetlamps. In the dark conservatory at the back of the house a large figure now rose from a wicker armchair. Glass in hand, he surveyed the scores of silhouettes.
"No, Mother!" he cried in a loud voice, emphasizing every syllable. "This has nothing to do with the toasters. It has begun!"
"What has begun?"
"It!" He shouted it with his head thrown back, ecstatically, like an enlightened mystic.
"He's off again," said a man's voice. "Sit down and stop drinking."
"It!"
"Yes, yes. It. It's all right."
"That's right! It's all right. It's also dark, and it's freezing outside. It was about time that it began, that thank heavens it's happened. So be it. Amen— so that the infidels may also understand."
"Onno, you're insufferable."
But the very opposition he provoked was an inspiration. He knew that he was making an exhibition of himself, but he was swept along by his own words.
"Does my ear hear the cacophonous voice of my eldest brother, the most bigoted of Calvinists? What is more terrible than being an eldest brother? I shall say it through clenched teeth: having an eldest brother! Father, make that wretched individual shut up!"
"I don't know if you remember," said a woman in the dark, "but we're celebrating Father's birthday. It's his seventy-fifth birthday, do you remember? It's meant to be a celebration."
"Isn't that my youngest sister? The fair Ophelia? Yes, I remember, I remember. I myself am thirty-three—does that perhaps ring a bell in this company of fanatics and zealots? I remember everything, because I never forget anything. Isn't this the second time in a week that we've celebrated Father's birthday? Father, where are you? I am looking for you, but I am looking through a glass darkly. There you were the day before yesterday at the head of the table, in De Wittenburg Castle: on your right the queen, on your left the crown princess; at the other end, a ten-minute walk away, our poor mother, wedged between the prince-consort and the prime minister; and between you the whole cabinet, eighty-six ex-ministers, a hundred and sixty-eight thousand generals, prelates, bankers, politicians, and industrialists as far as the eye could see; and all of you, too, all the pashas and grand viziers and moguls and satraps by marriage. Hic sunt monstra. If only my abominable eldest brother were not there, the governor of that backward province whose name still escapes me."
"Now I've had enough, I'm going to punch him in the nose!"
"Calm down, Diederic. You're a terrible nuisance, Onno. You yourself were sitting talking oh so timidly to the Honorable Miss Bob in your dinner jacket."
"Oh God, the Honorable Miss Bob, the sweetie. I told her the facts of life. It was all completely new to her."
Onno was enjoying himself hugely. It was mainly his own generation who were turning against him. The previous one did not say much; the next one, which was still in high school, was amused and admiring. That was the way to be. One must have the guts to be like that.
"I can't find any candles anywhere, ma'am."
A boy came in with a pocket flashlight, which gave less light than a candle. "There are no fuses left," he said.
He put the flashlight on the table, transforming the faces of some old ladies, who were nibbling gingersnaps and drinking their liqueurs, into those of Transylvanian witches. But people's eyes were
"Is anyone here technically minded?"
"I'll see to it. Where are the fuses, Grandmother?"
"On top of the electric meter, in the cupboard next to the stairs down to the cellar."
"Someone must have been messing about with them. You don't get a short-circuit just like that."
"I'll go and have a look up in the attic, at the little ones."
"Ouch!"
"Someone must have been using that wretched toaster again. Coba?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Did you use that toaster?"
"No, ma'am."
"Look and see if there are any candles left in the sideboard."
"Yes, ma'am."
The only light in the rooms was that cast by the streetlamps. In the dark conservatory at the back of the house a large figure now rose from a wicker armchair. Glass in hand, he surveyed the scores of silhouettes.
"No, Mother!" he cried in a loud voice, emphasizing every syllable. "This has nothing to do with the toasters. It has begun!"
"What has begun?"
"It!" He shouted it with his head thrown back, ecstatically, like an enlightened mystic.
"He's off again," said a man's voice. "Sit down and stop drinking."
"It!"
"Yes, yes. It. It's all right."
"That's right! It's all right. It's also dark, and it's freezing outside. It was about time that it began, that thank heavens it's happened. So be it. Amen— so that the infidels may also understand."
"Onno, you're insufferable."
But the very opposition he provoked was an inspiration. He knew that he was making an exhibition of himself, but he was swept along by his own words.
"Does my ear hear the cacophonous voice of my eldest brother, the most bigoted of Calvinists? What is more terrible than being an eldest brother? I shall say it through clenched teeth: having an eldest brother! Father, make that wretched individual shut up!"
"I don't know if you remember," said a woman in the dark, "but we're celebrating Father's birthday. It's his seventy-fifth birthday, do you remember? It's meant to be a celebration."
"Isn't that my youngest sister? The fair Ophelia? Yes, I remember, I remember. I myself am thirty-three—does that perhaps ring a bell in this company of fanatics and zealots? I remember everything, because I never forget anything. Isn't this the second time in a week that we've celebrated Father's birthday? Father, where are you? I am looking for you, but I am looking through a glass darkly. There you were the day before yesterday at the head of the table, in De Wittenburg Castle: on your right the queen, on your left the crown princess; at the other end, a ten-minute walk away, our poor mother, wedged between the prince-consort and the prime minister; and between you the whole cabinet, eighty-six ex-ministers, a hundred and sixty-eight thousand generals, prelates, bankers, politicians, and industrialists as far as the eye could see; and all of you, too, all the pashas and grand viziers and moguls and satraps by marriage. Hic sunt monstra. If only my abominable eldest brother were not there, the governor of that backward province whose name still escapes me."
"Now I've had enough, I'm going to punch him in the nose!"
"Calm down, Diederic. You're a terrible nuisance, Onno. You yourself were sitting talking oh so timidly to the Honorable Miss Bob in your dinner jacket."
"Oh God, the Honorable Miss Bob, the sweetie. I told her the facts of life. It was all completely new to her."
Onno was enjoying himself hugely. It was mainly his own generation who were turning against him. The previous one did not say much; the next one, which was still in high school, was amused and admiring. That was the way to be. One must have the guts to be like that.
"I can't find any candles anywhere, ma'am."
A boy came in with a pocket flashlight, which gave less light than a candle. "There are no fuses left," he said.
He put the flashlight on the table, transforming the faces of some old ladies, who were nibbling gingersnaps and drinking their liqueurs, into those of Transylvanian witches. But people's eyes were
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