Free Twilight in Djakarta by Mochtar Lubis Page A

hurry we could first take a ride to Tandjong Priok,’ 1 replied Suryono.
    ‘My husband is out of town. He won’t be back for two weeks. Hurry or no hurry, it’s all the same to me,’ said Dahlia.
    ‘Ha, fine, in that case we’ll go for a spin first. Is your husband a business man too?’
    ‘Wah, if only he were a business man I’d be delighted,’ said Dahlia. ‘He’s a civil servant, inspector at the P.P. & K. 2 It’s really so hard to be a government official these days, as you well know yourself, tuan. The salary gets you through just one week.’
    ‘Of course! How true!’ said Suryono. ‘It’s silly for anyone to want to be a government official nowadays. But if he wanted, he could get along nicely by accepting bribes.’
    ‘That’s what I’ve been telling my husband, and how many times. But he says, if all government officials were corrupt, where would our country be? It would go to pieces!’
    ‘Your husband is an exceptional person,’ Suryono replied. ‘He’s too good. He refuses to see our world here as it really is – whoever is honest goes under. Other people just go ahead.’
    ‘My husband doesn’t want to understand this.’
    As they were passing the electric power-station at Antjol, Suryono took Dahlia’s hand.
    ‘Your hand is exquisite. And you’re exquisite, quite in keeping with your name. How lovely you are!’
    ‘You’re just fooling,’ Dahlia answered, and as she smiled her eyes flashed coquettishly.
    ‘Why should we really be heading for Priok, isn’t it better we go to your house if indeed your husband is not home?’
    ‘To our house, it’s impossible,’ replied Dahlia. ‘We’ve only two rooms, too crowded. People can see.’
    ‘To a hotel in the city?’ asked Suryono.
    ‘I’m afraid to go to a hotel,’ Dahlia answered. ‘I have never gone to a hotel.’
    ‘Ah, come, come,’ interrupted Suryono.
    ‘It’s true. Let’s go to the house of Tante 3 Bep on Petodjo.’
    Suryono swung the car round and headed back towards Djakarta.
    ‘Does this Tante Bep really have a good place?’ he asked as they were approaching Petodjo. ‘Where is it?’
    Dahlia showed him the way and they finally stopped before a good-sized house.
    ‘This is her own house,’ Dahlia explained. ‘Tante Bep is already quite old and stays here all alone. She has a son, but in Bandung. And occasionally she’s willing to put up peop71le whom she knows well. It’s lonely here,’ she added.
    Dahlia knocked at the door. Waited a moment. There were heavy, shuffling steps inside. The high voice of an old woman asked from behind the door, in Dutch,
    ‘Who is it?’
    ‘It’s me, Dahlia, Tante Bep,’ answered Dahlia.
    ‘Oh!’ said the voice from the inside. There was a sound of a key turning, and an old woman opened the door and said to Dahlia,
    ‘Good morning. Come in!’
    Suryono didn’t seem to exist for her, she had glanced at him fleetingly, and when he had said good morning to her, her response was very, very short. When they were seated, Tante Bepimmediately went inside.
    ‘Wait a moment, yes?’ said Dahlia to Suryono, and she got up and followed Tante Bep inside. Suryono, left alone, looked around the sitting-room. Though the furniture was old it was well taken care of. On the wall facing him hung a family portrait. In the centre sat a man, still young, in a K.N.I.L. 1 uniform, wearing a bamboo hat turned up at one side, and with a sergeant major’s insignia. At his side sat a young woman and two small children, a boy and a girl. Suryono, attracted by the picture, stood up to examine it closer.
    Then Dahlia was back in the room, and seeing Suryono standing near the picture came up to him and said,
    ‘That is Tante Bep’s husband and Tante Bep herself, with their children, before the war. Her husband is dead. The daughter disappeared during the revolution. The son works in Bandung.’
    Her body came close to Suryono’s, into his nostrils rose the scent of her perfume and the