"No, not even once."

"Well, what then?"

"But, Hans, what's the good of talking about myself to this extent?"

"We're all interested, Mr. Brauws," said Constance. "We certainly are. But, if you would rather not talk about those days, we will not be indiscreet."

"Yes, yes, yes," said Van der Welcke, impatiently. "By Jingo, I will be indiscreet. Max, I must know...."

"Well, then," said Max Brauws, very simply and shyly, as though he were making an apology. "At the risk of your wife's never asking me to her house again: I was a porter."

They all three looked at him and did not understand.

"A porter?" asked Van der Welcke.

"A porter?" asked Constance.

"Yes, mevrouw: just a porter and dock-labourer."

"A dock-labourer?" asked Van der Welcke, thinking, from Max Brauws'

quiet voice, that he had suddenly gone mad.

"Yes, Hans; and, later on, I worked as a stoker in an iron-works, like my father's."

"As a stoker?" asked Constance.

"Yes, mevrouw, as a stoker in a factory. And then, afterwards, as an engine-driver. And then--but that was very hard work--I was a miner for a short time; but then I fell ill."

"A miner?" asked Van der Welcke, in a blank voice, dazed with astonishment.

And at last, recovering from the astonishment, he burst out:

"Look here, Max, if you want to talk seriously, do; but don't go pulling my leg and making a fool of me to my face. I don't understand a word of what you're saying, unless I'm to suppose that your father was angry with you and gave you no money and that you had to work for your bread, perhaps. But that you were a porter...."

"And dock-labourer," said Constance.

"And engine-driver and miner, that I refuse to believe, unless your father...."

"My dear Hans, my father used to send me the same allowance that he made me at the university: three hundred guilders a month."

"And...?"

"And I used the money ... for other things; but I lived on my wages, like a labourer, as I really was. You see, you can't understand that; and, as I feared, your wife thinks it horrible to be sitting at table with a man who has been a porter, a dock-labourer and a stoker...."

"And a miner," added Van der Welcke.

And he shut his eyes, as though he had received a blow on the head.

"But, mevrouw," said Brauws, with his quiet smile, "my hands, although they are not delicate, have become fit to show again, as you see."

And he showed his hands, big, powerful hands, probably developed by manual labour, but now neither coa.r.s.e nor hard.

"But can you explain to me," asked Constance, with a little laugh, "why you worked in those various humble capacities?"

"Shall we say, mevrouw, for the sake of being eccentric?" replied Brauws, almost coldly. "And then we will talk no more about myself. Tell me instead about Addie. Hans was saying the other day that his ambition was to enter the diplomatic service...."

But a certain constraint seemed involuntarily to make the conversation flag, as though both host and hostess were unable to understand their guest at all, as though some one of another cla.s.s had actually strayed by accident into their dining-room, into the home of these born aristocrats; and Constance, perceiving this, not only wanted to avoid that constraint, but also a deeper feeling of invincible sympathy made her regret almost unconsciously any misunderstanding or unpleasantness that might arise between that strange man and Henri or herself. This deeper feeling was so faint and unconscious that, at the moment, she saw in it only her wish, as hostess, to make the pa.s.sing hour as agreeable as possible for her guest; and she did not hear the deeper note in her voice when she said, with that candour and sincerity which at times gave her an exquisitely feminine charm:

"I should be very sorry indeed, Mr. Brauws, if you refused to go on speaking of yourself. You are an old and intimate friend of Henri's; and, now that you two have met again, it would be a pity if you refused to talk about the years when you did not see each other. But I am not speaking only for my husband, who will speak for himself: I am speaking especially for my own sake. When I heard you lecturing on Peace the other day--on something which I had really never thought about, though I had heard the word vaguely mentioned by people now and then--your speech really roused ... a sort of interest in me; and I listened with keen sympathy; and afterwards I thought about that word. And, now that you tell us that you have been a common workman in America, I am very much interested to know how you came to adopt a life so very different from that of the men in my set; and, if it is not too indiscreet, I should like to ask you, as a favour, to speak about yourself and explain what at present seems so perplexing to me...."

The simple, homely meal was finished; and they went into the drawing-room.

"May I stay, Mamma?" asked Addie, who never accompanied them to the drawing-room when there was a stranger present.

She laughed; and Van der Welcke said:

"You see, even my boy is curious."

"Our future diplomatist!" said Brauws, with his quiet smile. "Well, mevrouw, may he stay or not?"

"Of course he may stay!"

"Aren't you afraid that the ideas of ... a labouring-man will spoil him?"

"Oh, there's no spoiling my boy!" said she, lifting her head high and putting her arm round Addie's shoulder with motherly pride.

"And you don't make him vain, by saying that?"

"There's no making him vain," she continued, boasting a little, like a proud mother.

"So he can stay?" asked Brauws.

"He can stay."

"Well, in that case I shall tell you more about myself."

"Only in that case?"

"You are giving me a proof of confidence and, I might almost say, of sympathy."

Van der Welcke took his friend by the shoulders:

"My dear Max, you pretend that you don't know how to talk to 'ladies'

and there you stand, like a typical courtier, paying compliments to my wife. That's all superfluous, you know: here's a cup of coffee; sit down, make yourself at home, choose your own chair; and now, Mr. Miner, tell your Mad Hans how, when you were in America, you went even madder than he."

But Brauws was obviously still seeking subterfuges, as though it were impossible for him to interpret the riddle of his former existence to these people who were entertaining him so kindly; and at last he half managed to escape their pressing curiosity by saying:

"But I can't possibly tell you all that straight away.... Perhaps later, mevrouw, when I have known you a little longer, I may be able to tell you about that time, so that you may understand it after a fashion."