The Hidden Force: A Story of Modern JavaCouperus, Louis
History
The Hidden Force: A Story of Modern Java
Couperus, Louis
Java (Indonesia) -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction
She sailed through every difficulty; and, because people saw that she
knew best and was more practical than they, they gave way to her. But,
while she was busy evolving her stalls and her tableaux-vivants,
while the bustle of the preparations occupied the leading families
of Labuwangi, something seemed also to occupy the soul of the
native population, but something less cheerful than charitable
entertainment. The chief of police, who brought Van Oudijck his short
report every morning, usually in a few words--that he had gone his
rounds and that everything was quiet and orderly--had of late had
longer conversations with the resident, seemed to have more important
things to communicate; the messengers whispered more mysteriously
outside the office, the resident sent for Eldersma and Van Helderen;
the secretary wrote to Ngadjiwa, to Vermalen the assistant-resident, to
the major-commandant of the garrison; and the district controller went
round the town with increased frequency and at unaccustomed hours. Amid
all their fussing the ladies perceived little of these mysterious
doings; and only Léonie, who took no part in the preparations, noticed
in her husband an unusual silent concern. She was a quick and keen
observer; and, because Van Oudijck, who was accustomed often to mention
business in the domestic circle, had been mute for the last few days,
she asked suddenly where the Regent of Ngadjiwa was, now that he had
been dismissed by the government at Van Oudijck's instance, and who was
going to replace him. He made a vague reply; and she took alarm and
became anxious. One morning, passing through her husband's bedroom,
she was struck by the whispered conversation between Van Oudijck and
the chief of police and she stopped to listen, with her ear against
the screen. The conversation was muffled because the garden-doors
were open; the messengers were sitting on the garden-steps; a couple
of gentlemen who wished to speak to the resident were walking up and
down the side-verandah, after writing their names on the slate which
the chief messenger brought in to the resident. But they had to wait,
because the resident was engaged with the chief of police....
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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