“So you’re thinking of being presented at Court next winter?” said Van Vreeswijck, who had been a chum of Henri’s at Leiden and who was now a chamberlain-extraordinary to the Queen Regent, as he and Van der Welcke were leaving the Plaats together.
Van der Welcke looked up:
“I wasn’t thinking of it for a second.”
“Really? I heard that you meant to, or rather that it was your wife’s intention.”
“I haven’t exchanged a single word on the subject with my wife.”
Van Vreeswijck took Van der Welcke’s arm: “Really? Well, to tell you the truth, I could not quite understand it.”
“Why not?” asked Van der Welcke, promptly taking offence.
“Look here, old fellow: I can speak to you frankly, can’t I, as an old friend? But, if you’re touchy . . . then we’ll avoid intimate matters.”
“Not at all: what were you going to say?”
“Nothing that you won’t see for yourself, if you think for a moment. But, if the whole question of getting presented at Court doesn’t exist with you and your wife, then don’t let me bring it up at all.”
