Van Teuten bowed his head—he had exhausted his arguments, and all to no purpose; he had completely forgotten the eloquent address, thought out last night; the courage with which he had armed himself had oozed away—he went out silently. But suddenly he turned back.
“If it were _outside_ the official circle, sir, could you help me then? I could get money at an interest of one per cent. per month—only I must have the security of one of the superior officials.”
“I have told you, Mr Van Teuten, that I, in my position, cannot occupy myself with any matters of the kind. I am sorry for you, but I can do nothing.”
The man with the fine hand went away, slowly and dejectedly, and Van Arlen was once more alone with—or rather without—his thousand guilders.
It is a mistake to suppose that, for the preparation of jugged hare, a hare is necessary. Mrs Van Arlen understood very well how to give a dinner, which, to the uninitiate, seemed the finest kind of “company” dinner, and yet consisted of the most commonplace everyday dishes. But there is an infinite difference between rice in a dish and rice in a mould—more especially when the latter is served with lemon sauce. The ham was prepared _à la mayonnaise_—Van Arlen was so fond of that dish,—he always partook of it when on those mysterious journeys of his; and then—you need not have a whole ham for it, a few slices are quite enough. Moreover, there stood, on the side-table, besides the never-failing ginger and cheese, a silver dish with ten little halfpenny tarts on it. It was quite a splendid dinner; papa and uncle had each a bottle to himself, and besides the ordinary wine glasses there were others of smaller size for the better wine.
But, with all this magnificence, a certain gloom prevailed among the Van Arlens. This is the way with the great ones of the earth; they enjoy wealth and ease without appreciating them.
Prigson, on the other hand, was, as usual, in excellent spirits. He felt in nowise overawed by the splendour of the feast, or the eight silk skirts which rustled round about him.
“You see, it’s just our ordinary family dinner,” said madame, with a pleasant little laugh. Prigson gave the obligatory answer, and paid no attention whatever to the material part of the dinner.