Walter Pieterse A Story of Holland

 By Multatuli (Eduard Douwes Dekker)

 Translated by Hubert Evans, Ph. D. 

 New York Friderici & Gareis 6 East Seventeenth Street

 Copyright, 1904, By Friderici & Gareis

PREFACE

Most of us know that The Hague is somewhere in Holland; and we allknow that Queen Wilhelmina takes a beautiful picture; but to how manyof us has it occurred that the land of Spinoza and Rembrandt is stillrunning a literary shop?

How many of us have ever heard of Eduard Douwes Dekker? Very few, I fear, except professional critics. And yet, the man who, fortyyears ago, became famous as Multatuli (I have borne much), was notonly the greatest figure in the modern literature of the Netherlands, but one of the most powerful and original writers in the literatureof the world. An English critic has called him the Heine of Holland;Anatole France calls him the Voltaire of the Netherlands. 

Eduard Douwes Dekker was born in 1820, at Amsterdam, his father beingthe captain of a merchantman trading in the Dutch colonies. At the ageof eighteen Dekker sailed on his father's vessel for the East Indies, determined to abandon the business career that had been mapped out forhim and enter the colonial service. In 1839 he received a clerkshipin the civil service at Batavia. He now remained in the employ ofthe government for seventeen years, being promoted from one grade toanother until he was made Assistant Resident of Lebak in 1856. 

In this important position he used his influence to better thecondition of the natives; but, to his sorrow, he soon found that hedid not have the support of his superiors. What he conceived to beright clashed with the line of conduct he was expected to follow. Ina rash moment of "righteous indignation" he handed in his resignation;and it was accepted. 

This hasty step put an end to a brilliant political career and entailedupon Dekker years of disappointment and hardship. Seeing that he waspursuing the wrong method to help either the Javanese, or himself, he immediately tried to get reinstated, but without success. In 1857he returned to Holland and applied to the home government, hoping tobe vindicated and restored to his post. Again he was disappointed. Thegovernment offered him another desirable position; but, as it was amatter of principle with Dekker, he declined it. 

When he saw that it was useless to importune the government further, Dekker made his appeal to the people in "Max Havelaar" (1860). The bookwas an instant success and made the name of Multatuli famous. Throughthe perfidy of a supposed friend, however, Dekker failed to get verysubstantial material rewards from this work. For ten years yet hewas struggling with poverty. 

The Bohemian life that Dekker was now compelled to live--his familywas on the sufferance of friends--estranged him from his wife andstrengthened what some might call an unfortunate--or, at least, anuntimely--literary friendship that Dekker had formed with a certainMiss Mimi Schepel, of The Hague. The spiritual affinity between thetwo soon developed a passion that neither could resist. This estimablelady, who afterwards became Dekker's second wife, is still living, and has edited Dekker's letters in nine volumes. Dekker died inFebruary, 1887, at his home in Nieder-Ingelheim, where he had livedfor several years. 

The "Woutertje Pieterse" story was first published in Dekker'sseven volume work entitled "Ideen. " Here it is sandwiched in betweenmiscellaneous sketches, essays and treatises, being scattered allthe way from Vol. I to Vol. VII. The story falls naturally into twoparts, of which the present volume is the first part. The second part, written in a different key, deals with "Walter's Apprenticeship. "

A good deal of the flax, or silk, of his Chinaman's pigtail, to useDekker's form of expression, I have unraveled as being extraneousmatter. However, despite these omissions, it is quite possible thatsome very sensitive person may still find objectionable allusions inthe book. If so, I must refer that one to the shade of Multatuli. Fromhis own admission his shoulders were evidently broad; and, no doubt, they will be able to bear the additional strain. 

 Hubert Evans. 

New York City, November, 1904. 

CONTENTS

  Page

Chapter I

 The origin of the story: regarding poetry, incurable love, false hair, and the hero of the story--The dangers of fame and the advantage of the upper shelf--The Chinaman's pigtail, and the collar of humanity 1

Chapter II

 An Italian robber on the "Buitensingel" in Amsterdam--The bitter suffering of the virtuous Amalia--Wax candles, the palisades of morality--The cunning of the little Hallemans--The limitations of space 9

Chapter III

 The difference between a sugar bowl and a Bible--Leentje's virtues and defects--An unfounded suspicion against Pennewip's honor 18

Chapter IV

 The profound silence of Juffrouw Laps--Stoffel's sermon--Walter's fidelity to Glorioso--The last king of Athens--Ruined stomachs and bursted ear-drums 24

Chapter V

 How one may become a great man--The cleverness of M'sieu Millaire--Versifying and the art of classifying everything--Hobby-horses 27

Chapter VI

 Preparations for a party--The assignment of rôles--The conflict between wishing and being--Some tricks of fancy--The two sawmills--Amalia and the ducks 34

Chapter VII

 Poetry and wigs--The vexation and despair of the latter 42

Chapter VIII

 A tea-evening, and how it began--Some gaps in the author's knowledge--Stoffel's zoölogical joke--The cause of the last Punic war--And the advantage of smoking 48

Chapter IX

 Echoes of the last Punic war--The defeat of Hannibal (Laps) by Scipio (Pennewip) 61

Chapter X

 Causes of the tedious peace in Europe, showing the value of a "tea-evening" as a study--Specimens of school-verse concluded--Suitable for society poets and clever children 68

Chapter XI

 Report on the condition of the leading characters after the catastrophe--Walter again: a character-study 75

Chapter XII

 Leentje as a comforter and questioner--Prince Walter and his dominions 80

Chapter XIII

 Convincing proofs of Walter's improvement--His first invitation--A study in love--Paradise and Peri 87

Chapter XIV

 Great changes in the Pieterse family--Walter becomes poet-laureate at the court of Juffrouw Laps--The mountains of Asia--The bridge, Glorioso, and love--again 102

Chapter XV

 Walter's dream--A swell coachman--Juffrouw Laps's difficulties 117

Chapter XVI

 Femke hunts for Walter, and finds him under peculiar circumstances--Her adventures by the way 125

Chapter XVII

 The widower's birthday--Klaasje's poem, and how a surprise may involve further surprises 132

Chapter XVIII

 Walter's recovery--The doctor's pictures--Amsterdam dramaturgy 138

Chapter XIX

 Pastors, sermons, and Juffrouw Laps--Chocolate, timidity, and love--The fire that didn't break out--Some details of religious belief 150

Chapter XX

 Our hero calls on the doctor--Some strange happenings--How Walter delivered his present 161

Chapter XXI

 Ophelia reaches her destination, and Femke becomes a queen--Walter's first experience "proposing"--Choosing a profession 170

Chapter XXII

 Walter enters the real world--The firm Motto, Business & Co. --The technique of the novel--And the snuff of the Romans 180

Chapter XXIII

 How one may become a "prodigal" by studying the story of the Prodigal Son 194

Chapter XXIV

 Why Walter did not see Femke--The worldliness of a servant of the church--The secret of Father Jansen's deafness in his left ear 201

Chapter XXV

 Kings and doughnuts--How the masses soar and fall--Walter's cowardice and remorse of conscience--A good remedy for the blues 211

Chapter XXVI

 Our hero retires thinking of Princess Erika, to be aroused by robbers and murderers, who are in collusion with Juffrouw Laps 225

Chapter XXVII

 Walter alone with a pious lady, or Juffrouw Laps on the war-path 240

Chapter XXVIII

 A midnight kiss--A wonderful statue in the "Juniper Berry"-- Republicans and True Dutch hearts--A sailor with--Femke? 245

Chapter XXIX

 Sunrise on the "Dam"--An exciting encounter with a water-nymph--A letter from heaven--America, a haven for prodigal sons 260

Chapter XXX

 A message from Femke, which Walter fails to understand--Dr. Holsma to the rescue--Femke and family portraits--Femke, and once more Femke 270

Chapter XXXI

 Stoffel's view of the matter--Juffrouw Laps's distress, and Juffrouw Pieterse's elation--Elephants and butterflies, and Kaatje's conception of heredity 279

Chapter XXXII

 A theatrical performance under difficulties--The contest between Napoleon and King Minos of Crete--A Goddess on Mt. Olympus--Kisses and rosebuds 286

Chapter XXXIII

 Conclusion 298

WALTER PIETERSE

CHAPTER I

I don't know the year; but, since the reader will be interested toknow the time when this story begins, I will give him a few facts toserve as landmarks. 

My mother complained that provisions were dear, and fuel as well. Soit must have been before the discovery of Political Economy. Ourservant-girl married the barber's assistant, who had only oneleg. "Such a saving of shoe-leather, " the good little soul argued. Butfrom this fact one might infer that the science of Political Economyhad already been discovered. 

At all events, it was a long time ago. Amsterdam had no sidewalks, import duties were still levied, in some civilized countries there werestill gallows, and people didn't die every day of nervousness. Yes, it was a long time ago. 

The Hartenstraat! I have never comprehended why this street shouldbe called thus. Perhaps it is an error, and one ought to writeHertenstraat, or something else. I have never found more "heartiness"there than elsewhere; besides, "harts" were not particularly plentiful, although the place could boast of a poulterer and dealer in venison. 

I haven't been there for a long time, and I only remember that theStraat connects two main canal-streets, canals that I would fill upif I had the power to make Amsterdam one of the most beautiful citiesof Europe. 

My predilection for Amsterdam, our metropolis, does not make meblind to her faults. Among these I would mention first her completeinability to serve as the scene of things romantic. One finds hereno masked Dominos on the street, the common people are everywhereopen to inspection, no Ghetto, no Templebar, no Chinese quarter, no mysterious courtyard. Whoever commits murder is hanged; and thegirls are called "Mietje" and "Jansje"--everything prose. 

It requires courage to begin a story in a place ending with"dam. " There it is difficult to have "Emeranties" and "Héloises";but even these would be of little use, since all of these belles havealready been profaned. 

How do the French authors manage, though, to dress up their "Margots"and "Marions" as ideals and protect their "Henris" and "Ernestes"from the trite and trivial? These last remind one of M'sieu Henri orM'sieu Erneste just about like our castle embankments remind one offilthy water. 

Goethe was a courageous man: Gretchen, Klärchen----

But I, in the Hartenstraat!

However, I am not writing a romance; and even if I should write one, I don't see why I shouldn't publish it as a true story. For it isa true story, the story of one who in his youth was in love with asawmill and had to endure this torture for a long time. 

For love is torture, even if it is only love for a sawmill. 

It will be seen that the story is going to be quite simple, in facttoo frail to stand alone. So here and there I am going to plaitsomething in with the thread of the narrative, just as the Chinamandoes with his pigtail when it is too thin. He has no Eau de Lob oroil from Macassar--but I admit that I have never found at Macassarany berries which yielded the required oil. 

To begin, in the Hartenstraat was a book-shop and circulatinglibrary. A small boy with a city complexion stood on the step andseemed to be unable to open the door. It was evident that he wastrying to do something that was beyond his strength. 

He stretched out his hand towards the door knob repeatedly, butevery time he interrupted this motion either by stopping to pullunnecessarily at a big square-cut collar that rested on his shoulderslike a yoke, or by uselessly lifting his hand to screen an ingenuouscough. 

He was apparently lost in the contemplation of the pictures thatcovered the panes of glass in the door, turning them into a modelchart of inconceivable animals, four-cornered trees and impossiblesoldiers. He was glancing continually to one side, like a criminalwho fears that he is going to be caught in the act. It was manifestthat he had something in view which must be concealed from passers-by, and from posterity, for that matter. His left hand was thrust underthe skirts of his little coat, clutching convulsively at somethingconcealed in his trousers pocket. To look at him one would havethought that Walter contemplated a burglary, or something of the kind. 

For his name was Walter. 

It is a fortunate thing that it occurred to me to relate his history;and now I consider it my duty to report that he was entirely innocentof any burglarious or murderous intentions. 

I only wish I could clear him of other sins as easily as this. Theobject he was turning and twisting in his left breeches pocket wasnot a house-key, nor a jimmy, nor a club, nor a tomahawk, nor anyinfernal machine: It was a small piece of paper containing fourteenstivers, which he had raised on his New Testament with Psalms atthe grocer's on the "Ouwebrug"; and the thing that held him fast onthe Hartenstraat was nothing more or less than his entrance into themagic world of romance. He was going to read "Glorioso. "

Glorioso! Reader, there are many imitations, but only one Glorioso. Allthe Rinaldos and Fra Diavolos are not to be mentioned in the samebreath with Glorioso, this incomparable hero who carried awaycountesses by the dozen, plundered popes and cardinals as if theywere ordinary fallible people, and made a testament-thief of WalterPieterse. 

To be sure, Glorioso was not to blame for this last, certainly not. Oneought to be ashamed to be a hero, or a genius, or even a robber, ifon this account one is to be held responsible for all the crimes thatmay be committed years afterwards in the effort to get possession ofone's history. 

I myself object to any accusation of complicity in those evil deedsthat are committed after my death in quenching the thirst for knowledgeof my fate. Indeed, I shall never be deterred from a famous careermerely by the thought that some one may sell the New Testament toget hold of the "Life and Deeds of Multatuli. "

"You rascal, what are you loitering around here for? If you wantanything, come in; if you don't, make yourself scarce. "

And now Walter had to go in, or else abandon his cherishedGlorioso. But the man who bent over the counter and twisted himselflike a crane to open the door and snarl these words at our young herodid not have a face that advised anything like turning back. He wasangry. At first Walter had not had the courage to go in; now he didnot dare to turn back. He felt himself drawn in. It was as if thebook-shop swallowed him. 

"Glorioso, if you please, M'neer, and here----" He drew that infernalmachine from his pocket. "And here is money----"

For he had learned from his schoolmates, who had infected him withthis craving for romance, that at the circulating library strangersmust deposit a forfeit. 

The shopman seemed to regard himself as "sufficiently protected"by the sum produced. He took down a small volume, which was greasyand well worn, and bore both within and without the traces of muchunclean enjoyment. 

I am certain that the "Sermons of Pastor Splitvesel, " which stoodundisturbed on the top shelf and looked down contemptuously onthe literature of the day, would have been ashamed to bring theirspotless binding into contact with so much uncleanliness. But it isnot difficult to remain clean in the upper row. I find, therefore, that the "sermons" were unjust; and the same is true of many sermons. 

After Walter had given his name to the man in a trembling voice, hestuck the reward of his misdeed under his coat and hurried out thedoor, like a cat making away with the prey for which it has waitedfor hours. 

Walter ran and ran, and did not know where to go. He couldn't go home;he was watched too closely there, --which was not very difficult, as the space was rather limited. 

He selected quiet streets and finally came to a gateway that heremembered to have seen several times. It was a low, smooth arch, where it always smelled like ashes. Here, as a truant, he had takenthat leap! He was with Franz Halleman, who had dared him to cut sacredstudies and jump from the top of this arch. Walter did it just becauselittle Franz had questioned his courage. 

To this escapade he was indebted for his great familiarity with theprophet Habakkuk, whose prophecies he had to copy twelve times asa penalty. Further, the sprain that he got in his big toe on thatoccasion gave him a good barometer in that organ, which always warnedhim of approaching rain. 

In a certain sense Habakkuk is to be regarded as marking a transitionin Walter's life, viz. From nursery rhymes to books which deal with bigpeople. For some time he had felt his admiration for "brave Heinriche"to be growing; and he was disgusted with the paper peaches that aredistributed as the reward of diligence in the beautiful stories. Ofany other peaches he had no knowledge, as the real article was neverseen in the houses he visited. 

Nothing was more natural than that he should most ardently long totalk with the older schoolboys about the wonders of the real world, where people ride in coaches, devastate cities, marry princesses, and stay up in the evening till after 10 o'clock--even if it isn't abirthday. And then at the table one helps one's self, and may selectjust whatever one wants to eat. So think children. 

Every boy has his heroic age, and humanity, as a whole, has worn thelittle coat with the big collar. 

But how far can this comparison be carried? Where does theidentity stop? Will the human race become mature? and more thanmature?--old? Feeble and childish?

How old are we now? Are we boys, youths, men? Or are wealready----? No, that would be too unpleasant to think of. 

Let us suppose that we are just in the exuberance of youth! We arethen no longer children exactly, and still we may hope something ofthe future. 

Yes, of the future, --when this stifling school atmosphere has beenblown away. When we shall take pleasure in the short jacket of the boythat comes after us; when people will be at liberty to be born withoutany legal permit, and will not be reviled for it; when humanity willspeak one language; when metaphysics and religion have been forgotten, and knowledge of nature takes the place of noble birth. When we shallhave broken away from the nursery stories. 

There is some silk for my Chinaman's pigtail. Some will say it isonly flax. 

CHAPTER II

Walter thought neither of the heroic age nor of Chinese cues. Withoutany feeling for the beauty of the landscape, he hurried along tillhe came to a bridge that spanned a marshy ditch. After looking aboutcarefully to assure himself that he was alone, he selected thisbridge for his reading-room, and proceeded at once to devour hisrobber undisturbed. 

For a moment I felt tempted to make the reader a participant ofWalter's pleasure by giving a sketch of the immortal work that chainedthe boy's attention. But aside from the fact that I am not very wellversed in Glorioso--which fact of itself, though, would not prevent mefrom speaking about him--I have many other things of a more urgentnature to relate, and am compelled therefore to take the readerdirectly to the Hartenstraat, hoping that he will be able to findhis way just as well as if he had crossed the Ouwebrug--the old bridge. 

Suffice it to say that Walter found the book "very nice. " The virtuousAmalia, in the glare of flaring torches, at the death-bed of herrevered mother, in the dismal cypress valley, swearing that her ardentlove for the noble robber--through the horrible trapdoor, the rustychains, her briny tears--in a word, it was stirring! And there wasmore morality in it, too, than in all the insipid imitations. All themembers of the band were married and wore gloves. In the cave wasan altar, with wax tapers; and those chapters in which girls wereabducted always ended with a row of most decorous periods, or withmysterious dashes--which Walter vainly held up to the light in hiseffort to learn more about it. 

He read to: "Die, betrayer!" Then it was dark, and he knew that itwas time to go home. He was supposed to be taking a walk with theHalleman boys, --who were "such respectable children. " With regret heclosed the precious volume and hurried away as fast as he could, forhe was afraid he was going to get a whipping for staying away so long. 

"You will never get permission again"--thus he was always threatenedon such occasions. But he understood, of course, that they didn't meanit. He knew too well that people like to get rid of the children fora while when they are a little short of space at home. And then thelittle Hallemans were "such extraordinarily respectable children;they lived next to a house with a portico, and recently they hadtaken off their little caps so politely. "

Now, I don't believe that the Hallemans were any more respectablethan other boys of Walter's acquaintance; and, as I would like togive some reasons for my belief, I am going to relate an incidentthat had happened some time before this. 

Walter never got any pocket-money. His mother considered thisunnecessary, because he got at home everything that he needed. Itmortified him to have to wait for an invitation to join in a gameof ball with his companions, and then be reminded that he hadcontributed nothing towards buying the ball. In Walter's time thatuseful instrument of sport cost three doits--just a trifle. NowI suppose they are more expensive--but no, cheaper, of course, onaccount of Political Economy. 

On many occasions he was depressed by reason of this lack of money. Weshall see later whether what his mother said was true, or not: that hereceived at home everything he needed. It is certain that at home henever had the privilege of doing with some little thing as he pleased, which is very nice for children. And for grown-up people, too. 

The Hallemans--who were so especially respectable--gave him tounderstand that they had no desire to bear all the expenses. Franzcalculated that Walter's friendship had already cost them ninestivers, which I find high--not for the friendship, but merelyas an estimate. Gustave said it was still more; but that is adetail. Gustave, too, had let him have four slate pencils, that hemight court "the tall Cecilia, " who wouldn't have anything to do withhim because he wore a jacket stuck in his trousers--the kind smallboys wore then. She accepted the pencils, and then made Gustave apresent of them for a kiss. 

The reproaches of the little Hallemans, who were so very respectable, almost drove Walter to despair. 

"I have told my mother, but she won't give me anything. "

The little Hallemans, who were so respectable, said: "What's thatyou're giving us? You're a parasite. "

This was the first time Walter had ever heard the word, but he knewwhat it meant. Nothing sharpens the wits like bitterness of heart. 

"A parasite, a parasite--I'm a parasite, " and he ran off screaming, making a detour in order to avoid the street where Cecilia's fatherhad a second-hand store. Oh, if she had seen him running throughthe street crying like a baby--that would have been worse than thebreeches pulled up over his jacket!

A parasite, a parasite!

He met lots of grown-up people who perhaps were parasites, but theywere not bawling on this account. 

Parasite!

He saw a policeman, and caught his breath when he got by him, surprisedthat the man hadn't arrested him. 

Parasite!

Then came a street-sweeper with his cart, who seemed to rattle thathateful word after him. 

Our little sufferer remembered that the Halleman boys had once toldhim what a fortune could be made by peddling peppermint drops. Fortwenty-four stivers one could buy a big sack full. By selling soand so many for a doit, the profit would be enormous. If one onlyhad the capital to begin! The Hallemans had calculated everythingvery exactly; for they were not only very respectable, but also verycunning. Cunningness and respectability usually go hand in hand. Theyhad said, all that was needed was the capital. They would attend tolaying in the stock, and would assume all responsibility for the saleof the same. If Walter would chip in just a florin, they could raisethe rest and all would go well. 

Parasite. . . . Parasite. . . . 

Walter slipped a florin from his mother's box of savings and broughtit to the Halleman boys, who were so remarkably respectable. 

"Where did you get it?" asked Gustave, but careful not to give Waltertime to answer, or to fall into an embarrassing silence. 

"Where did you get it?"--without any interrogation point--"fine! Franzand I will each add one like it. That'll make twenty-four, and thenwe'll buy the peppermints. There's a factory on the Rosengracht--sucha sack for four shillings. Franz and I will do everything. We'llhave more opportunity at school, you understand. Christian Kloskamphas already ordered twelve; he'll pay after the holidays. We'll takeall the trouble; you needn't do anything, Walter--and then an equaldivide. You can depend upon it. "

Walter went home and dreamed of unheard-of wealth. He would put adollar in his mother's savings-bank, and buy for Cecilia a lead pencilfrom the man who had picked holes in the wood-work of his wagon withthem. So strong were they! That would be something entirely differentfrom those slate pencils; and if the tall Cecilia still wouldn'thave him, then--but Walter did not care to think further. There areabysses along the path of fancy that we do not dare to sound. We seethem instinctively, close the eyes and--I only know that on thatevening Walter fell asleep feeling good, expecting soon to have agood conscience over his little theft and hoping that Cecilia wouldgive him a happy heart. 

Alas, alas! Little Walter had made his calculations without taking intoconsideration the slyness and respectability of the Hallemans. Theylay in wait for him the next day as he came from school. Walter, who had painted to himself how they would be panting under theweight of the great sack; Walter, who was so anxious to know ifChristian Kloskamp had taken what he had ordered; Walter, who wasburning with curiosity as to the success of the venture--oh, he wasbitterly disappointed. Gustave Halleman not only carried no sack ofpeppermints. What's more, he had a very grave face. And little Franzlooked like virtue itself. 

"Well, how is everything?" Walter asked, but without saying a word. Hewas too curious not to ask, and too fearful to express the questionotherwise than by opening his mouth and poking out his face. 

"Don't you know, Walter, we've been thinking about the matter; andthere's a lot to be said against the plan. "

Poor Walter! In that moment both his heart and his conscience sufferedshipwreck. Away with your dreams of ethical vindication, away withthe gaping money-boxes of mothers--away, lead pencil that was tobore a hole in the hard heart of the tall Cecilia--gone, gone, gone, everything lost. 

"You see, Walter, the mint-drops might melt. "

"Y-e-s, " sobbed Walter. 

"And Christian Kloskamp, who ordered twelve--don't you know----"

"Y-e-s. "

I wonder if Christian was likely to melt too. 

"He is leaving school, and will certainly not return after theholidays. "

"H-e-e i-i-s?"

"Yes, and for that reason, and also because there are not anything likeso many to the pound as we had thought. Mint-drops are heavy. We'vecalculated everything, Franz and I. "

"Yes, " added little Franz, with the seriousness of one givingimportant advice in a time of great danger, "the things are veryheavy at present. Feel this one; but you must give it back to me. "

Walter weighed the mint-drop on his finger and returned itconscientiously. 

He found it heavy. Ah, in this moment he was so depressed that hewould have found everything heavy. 

Franz stuck the piece of candy into his mouth, and sucking at itcontinued:

"Yes, really, very heavy. These are the English drops, you know. Andthen there is something else, too, isn't there, Gustave? The propriety, the respectability! Tell him, Gustave. "

"The respectability, " cried Gustave, significantly. 

"We mean the respectability of it, " repeated Franz, as if he wereexplaining something. 

Walter looked first from one to the other, and did not seem tocomprehend. 

"You tell him, Gustave. "

"Yes, Walter, Franz will tell you, " said Gustave. 

"Walter, our papa is a deacon, and carries a portfolio, and therewhere we live is a----"

"Yes, " cried Gustave, "there on the Gracht, you know, lives M'neerKrulewinkel. He has a villa----"

"With a portico, " added Franz. 

"It's just on account of our standing--don't you see, Walter? Andwhen a visitor comes our mother brings out the wine. "

"Yes, Maderia, Maderia! And our tobacco-box is silver, and----"

"No, Franz, it isn't silver; but, Walter, it looks just like silver. "

Our poor little sinner understood all of this, but he failed to seewhat bearing it might have on his own disappointed hopes. He stuttered:"Yes, Gustave--yes, Franz--but the peppermint----"

"We just wanted to tell you that we are very respectable, don'tyou see?"

"Yes, Gustave. "

"And well-behaved. "

"Y-e-e-s, Franz. " Poor Walter!

"And then as you said you never got any pocket-money----"

"Yes, Walter--and don't you know? Because our papa is sorespectable--when winter comes you can see how he looks after theorphans. "

"Yes, and he rings at every door. And--and--we are afraid, thatyou----"

"That you----"

"The florin----"

"The florin! You understand?"

"That you didn't get it----"

"That you didn't get it honestly. That's it, " said Franz, stickinganother mint-drop into his mouth, perhaps to brace himself up. 

It was out at last. Poor, miserable Walter. 

"And on that account, Walter, we would rather not keep the money, but just divide now--equally, as we all agreed. "

"Yes, " cried Gustave, "divide equally. The work--we--you understand?"

They divided the profits. And the Hallemans were sleek aboutit. Twenty-four stivers; three into twenty-four goes eight times, therefore----

Walter received eight stivers. 

"Don't you see, " explained Gustave, "we couldn't do it, because ourpapa is a deacon. "

"Yes--and our tobacco-box, even if it isn't pure silver, it's justlike silver. "

My lack of faith in the extreme respectability of the Hallemansis based upon the foregoing story; and I am inclined to think thatall this "respectability" of which Walter heard so much at home wasonly an excuse on his mother's part to get him out of the way. Forthere was a lack of room. If she had wanted to use Walter about thehouse, it is questionable if she had discovered anything especiallyrespectable about those boys. 

Many laws and most customs have their origin in a "lack of room"--inthe intellect, in one's character, in the house or flat, in the fields, in the city. 

This applies to the preference for the right hand--a result ofcrowding at the table--to the institution of marriage, and to manythings lying between these extremes. 

CHAPTER III

We will not try to explain further this fruitful principle of"limitation of space. " Walter knew the fruit of it, even if he failedto recognize the origin. He was not worried so much by the mere cominghome as by the punishment he expected to receive as soon as that NewTestament should be missed. He had returned from his little excursioninto the country with Glorioso, and now in Amsterdam again the memoryof his recent offense--or shall I say the anticipation of what wascoming?--lay heavily on his mind. 

If we could think away all the results of crime committed, therewould be very little left of what we call conscience. 

But Walter consoled himself with the thought that it wasn't a thimblethis time. The testament will not be missed at once, he reflected, because Sunday was a long way off, and no one would ask about itduring the week. 

No, it was not a thimble, or a knitting-needle, or a sugar-bowl, or anything in daily use. 

When our hero got home, he stuck his greasy Glorioso under Leentje'ssewing-table--the same Leentje who had sewed up his breeches afterthat wonderful leap, so that his mother never found out about it. Shewent down to her grave in ignorance of these torn breeches. 

But Leentje was employed to patch breeches and such things. Shereceived for this seven stivers a week, and every evening a slice ofbread and butter. 

Long after the Habakkuk period, Walter often thought of her humble"Good-evening, Juffrouw; good-evening, M'neer and the young Juffrouwen;good-evening, Walter, " etc. 

Yes, Walter's mother was called Juffrouw, on account of theshoe-business. For Juffrouw is the title of women of the lower middleclasses, while plain working women are called simply Vrouw. Mevrouwis the title of women of the better classes. And so it is in theNetherlands till to-day: The social structure is a series of classes, graduated in an ascending scale. Single ladies are also calledJuffrouw, so that Juffrouw may mean either a young lady or a youngmatron--who need not necessarily be so young. The young Juffrouwenwere Walter's sisters, who had learned how to dance. His brotherhad been called M'neer since his appointment as assistant at the"intermediate school, " a sort of charity school now no longer inexistence. His mother had spliced his jacket that he might commandthe respect of the boys, and remarked that the name "Stoffel" scarcelysuited him now. This explains why Leentje addressed him as M'neer. ToWalter she simply said Walter, for he was only a small boy. Walterowed her three stivers, or, to be exact, twenty-six doits, which henever did pay her. For, years afterward, when he wanted to return themoney to her, there were no more doits; and, besides, Leentje was dead. 

This pained him very much, for he had thought a great deal of her. Shewas ugly, even dirty, and was stoop-shouldered, too. Stoffel, theschoolmaster, said that she had an evil tongue: She was thought tohave started the report that he had once eaten strawberries withsugar in the "Netherlands. " This was a small garden-restaurant. 

I am willing to admit the truth of all this; but what more could oneexpect for seven stivers and a slice of bread and butter? I have knownduchesses who had larger incomes; and still in social intercoursethey were not agreeable. 

Leentje was stooped as a result of continuous sewing. Her needlekept the whole family clothed; and she knew how to make two jacketsand a cap out of an old coat and still have enough pieces left forthe gaiters that Stoffel needed for his final examination. He fellthrough on account of a mistake in Euclid. 

With the exception of Walter nobody was satisfied with Leentje. Ibelieve they were afraid of spoiling her by too much kindness. Walter'ssisters were always talking about "class" and "rank, " saying that"everyone must stay in his place. " This was for Leentje. Her fatherhad been a cobbler who soled shoes, while the father of the youngJuffrouwen had had a store in which "shoes from Paris" were sold. Abig difference. For it is much grander to sell something that somebodyelse has made than to make something one's self. 

The mother thought that Leentje might be a little cleaner. But I amgoing to speak of the price again, and of the difficulty of washingwhen one has no time, no soap, no room, and no water. At that timewaterpipes had not been laid, and, if they had been, it's a questionif the water had ever got as far as Leentje. 

So, everyone but Walter had a spite against Leentje. He liked her, and was more intimate with her than with anyone else in the house, perhaps because the others could not endure him, and there was nothingleft for him to do but to seek consolation from her. For every feelingfinds expression, and nothing is lost, either in the moral or in thematerial world. I could say more about this, but I prefer to drop thesubject now, for the organ-grinder under my window is driving me crazy. 

Walter's mother called him, "That boy. " His brothers--there weremore beside Stoffel--affirmed that he was treacherous and morose, because he spoke little and didn't care for "marbles. " When he did sayanything, they attributed to him a relationship with King Solomon'scat. His sisters declared he was a little devil. But Walter stoodwell with Leentje. She consoled him, and considered it disgracefulthat the family didn't make more out of such a boy as Walter. Shehad seen that he was not a child like ordinary children. And I shouldscarcely take the trouble to write his story if he had been. 

Up to a short time after his trip to Hartenstraat, Ash Gate and theold bridge, Leentje was Walter's sole confidant. To her he readthe verses that slender Cecilia had disdained. To her he pouredout his grief over the injustice of his teacher Pennewip, who gavehim only "Fair, " while to that red-headed Keesje he gave "Very good"underscored--Keesje who couldn't work an example by himself and always"stuck" in "Holland Counts. "

"Poor boy, " said Leentje, "you're right about it. " They went over intothe Bavarian house. It's a disgrace! And to save a doit on the pound. 

She claimed that Keesje's father, who was a butcher, let Pennewiphave meat at a reduced price, and that this was what was the matterwith all those Holland counts and their several houses. 

Later Walter looked upon this as a "white lie, " for Pennewip, whenexamined closely, didn't look like a man who would carry on a crookedbusiness with beefsteak. But in those days he accepted gladly thisfrivolous suspicion against the man's honor as a plaster for his own, which had been hurt by the favoritism towards Keesje. Whenever ourhonor is touched, or what we regard as our honor, then we think littleof the honor of others. 

When his brothers jeered at him and called him "Professor Walter, "or when his sisters scolded him for his "idiotic groping amongthe bed-curtains, " or when his mother punished him for eating upthe rice that she intended to serve again "to-morrow"--then it wasalways Leentje who restored the equilibrium of his soul and banishedhis cares, just as, with her inimitable stitches, she banished the"triangles" from his jacket and breeches. 

Ugly, dirty, evil-tongued Leentje, how Walter did like you! Whatconsolation radiated from her thimble, what encouragement even inthe sight of her tapeline! And what a lullaby in those gentle words:"There now, you have a needle and thread and scraps. Sew your littlesack for your pencils and tell me more of all those counts, who alwayspassed over from one house into another. "

CHAPTER IV

I don't know what prophet Walter got as punishment for that pawnedBible. The pastor came to preach a special sermon. The man was simplyhorrified at such impiousness. Juffrouw Laps, who lived in the loweranteroom, had heard about it too. She was very pious and assertedthat such a boy was destined for the gallows. 

"One begins with the Bible, " she said significantly, "and ends withsomething else. "

No one has ever found out just what that "something else" is whichfollows a beginning with the Bible. I don't think she knew herself, and that she said it to make people believe that she possessed muchwisdom and knew more about the world than she gave utterance to. Now, I admit that I have no respect for wisdom that cannot express itselfin intelligible words, and, if it had been my affair, I should havevery promptly drawn a tight rein on Juffrouw Laps. 

Stoffel delivered an exhortation in which he brought out all that hadbeen forgotten by the preacher. He spoke of Korah, Dathan and Abiram, who had erred similarly to Walter and had been sent to an early gravefor their sins. He said too, that the honor of the family had beenlost at the "Ouwebrug, " that it was his duty, "as the eldest son of anirreproachable widow and third assistant at the intermediate school, to take care of the honor of the house----"

"Of Bavaria, " said Leentje softly. 

That "a marriage, or any other arrangement for the girls, would befrustrated by Walter's offence, for no one would have anything to dowith girls who----"

In short, Stoffel accented the fact that it was "a disgrace, " and that"he would never be able to look anyone in the face who knew of thiscrime. " He remarked distinctly that the schoolboys must know of it, for Louis Hopper had already stuck out his tongue at him!

And finally, that he "shuddered to cross the new market-place"--inthose days criminals were scourged, branded and hanged here--becauseit reminded him so disagreeably of Juffrouw Laps's horrible allusionto Walter's fate. 

Then followed all sorts of things about Korahs, Dathans and Abirams, whereupon the whole family broke out in a wail. For it was so pathetic. 

Walter comforted himself with thoughts of Glorioso, and, whenever that"something else" of Juffrouw Laps was spoken of, he just dreamed ofhis marriage with beautiful Amalia, whose train was carried by sixpages. I fancy Juffrouw Laps would have made a pretty face if shehad learned of this interpretation of her mysterious climax. 

All efforts to compel our hero to tell how he had spent that money werein vain. After all known means had been applied, the attempt to force aconfession had to be abandoned. Water and bread, water without bread, bread without water, no water and no bread, the preacher, Stoffel, Habakkuk, Juffrouw Laps, tears, the rod--all in vain. Walter was notthe boy to betray Glorioso. This was what he had found so shabby ofScelerajoso, who had to pay the penalty, as we have seen. 

As soon as he got the privilege of walking again with the Hallemans, who were so eminently respectable, he hurried away to the old bridge, near Ash Gate, to continue his thrilling book. He read up to thatfatal moment when he had to tell his hero good-bye, and on the lastpage saw Glorioso, as a major-general, peacefully expire in the armsof the virtuous Alvira. 

When Walter had returned the book to Hartenstraat his eye was attractedby some almond-cakes at the confectioner's on the corner. He did withGlorioso just as the Athenians did with Kodrus: No one was worthy tobe the successor of such a hero, and within a few days the residueof the New Testament had been converted into stomach-destroying pastry. 

I ought to add that a part of the "balance" left after that Italianexcursion--perhaps the part contributed by the Psalms--was investedin a triple-toned, ear-splitting, soul-searing harmonica, which wasfinally confiscated by Master Pennewip as being a disturbing elementin the schoolroom. 

CHAPTER V

I don't feel called upon to pass judgment on the strife betweenLeentje and Pennewip regarding the latter's partiality towards Keesje, the butcher's son. But that fiery feeling for right and justicewhich has harrassed me from my earliest youth--ah, for years have Iwaited in vain for justice--and the foolish passion for hunting aftermitigating circumstances, even when the misdeed has been proved--allthis compels me to say that Pennewip's lot might be considered amitigating circumstance for a man convicted of the eight deadly sins. 

I have found that many great men began their careers as feeders ofhogs (see biographical encyclopedias); and it seems to me that thisoccupation develops those qualities necessary in ruling or advancingmankind. 

If the theologists should happen to criticise this story, and perhapsaccuse me of far-reaching ignorance, because I enumerate one cardinalsin more than they knew of, or of the crime of classifying man asa sort of hog, I reply that, still another new canonical sin couldbe discovered that they have never studied. And that ought to be aspleasing to them as influenza is to the apothecary. 

New problems, gentlemen, new problems!

And as for our relationship with pigs, just consider the relationof coal to diamond, and I think everyone will be satisfied--eventhe theologists. 

What a magnificent prospect anyone has who spends his tender youthwith those grunting coal-diamonds of the animal world! But I haveoften wondered that in the "Lives of Famous Men" we so seldom read ofa school-teacher, for in the school all the ingredients of greatnessare abounding. 

The reverse is more often true. Every day we see banished princesteaching lazy boys. Dionysius and Louis Philippe are not the onlyones. I myself once tried to teach an American French. It was no go. 

If it should ever become customary again to elect kings, I hope thepeople will elect such persons as have studied men, just as one studiesGeography on globes or maps. All virtues, propensities, passions, mistakes, misdeeds, knowledge of which is so indispensable in humansociety, can be studied much better in the schoolroom. The field isrestricted, and can be taken in more readily. The famous statecraftof many a great man, if the truth were known, had its origin in thatold tripping trick, which is everything to the three-foot Machiavellis. 

The task of a schoolmaster is not an easy one. I have never understoodwhy he is not better paid, or, since this must be so, why there arestill men who prefer to teach, when on the same pay they might becorporals in the army, and teach the use of firearms, which offersfewer headaches and more fresh air. 

I would even rather be a preacher; for he does work with people who areinterested and come to hear him of their own free will. The teacherhas to fight continually with indifference, and with the extremelydangerous rivalry of tops, marbles, and paper-dolls--not to speak ofcandy, scarlatina and weak mothers. 

Pennewip was a man of the old school. At least he would seem so tous if we could see him in his gray school jacket and short trouserswith buckles, and his brown wig, which he was continually pushinginto place. At the first of the week this was always curly, when itwas not raining--rain isn't good for curls; and on Sundays "the manwith the curling irons" came. 

Antiquated? But perhaps this is only imagination. Who knows? perhapsin his day he was quite modern. How soon people will say the sameof us! At all events, the man called himself "Master" and his schoolwas a school and not an "Institute. " It is no advance to call thingsby other than their right names. In his school boys and girls sattogether indiscriminately, according to the naïve custom of thosedays. They learned, or might learn, Reading, Writing, Arithmetic, National History, Psalmody, Sewing, Knitting, and Religion. Thesewere the order of the day, but if anyone distinguished himself bya show of talent, diligence or good behavior, that one receivedspecial instruction in versification, an art in which Pennewip tookgreat pleasure. 

Thus he taught the boys till they were sufficiently advanced to beconfirmed. With the help of his wife he gave the girls a "finishingcourse. " They were graduated with a paternoster done in red on a blackbackground, or perhaps a pierced heart between two flower-pots. Thenthey were through and ready to become the grandmothers of theirown generation. 

There was no natural science then. Even to-day there is room forimprovement along this line. It is said that some advance has beenmade recently. It is more useful for a child to know how corn growsthan to be able to call the name of it in a foreign language. I don'tsay that either is incompatible with the other. 

The public schools were most deficient at the time when Walter andKeesje were slowly crawling around the arena of honor; but I doubt ifone could say much more of the "institutes" of to-day. I would adviseeveryone to visit such a school as he attended when a boy; and I amconvinced that after this test many a father who has the welfare ofhis children at heart will prefer to keep them at home. One comes tothe conclusion, that after all in the school of clever Master Miller, who was so clever that he got himself addressed as M'sieu Millaire, precious little was to be learned. 

Failing to make this test we continue to believe in the infallibilityof M'sieu of Millaire. We always consider that one a great man whomwe have known in childhood and haven't seen since. 

When I remarked a moment ago that school-teachers are paid soniggardly, I didn't mean that their remuneration was insufficient, considering the quality and quantity of the goods delivered--knowledge, scholarship, education. I only had in mind the bitterness of theirlot, and the poor indemnity given to the man who spends his life ina wasp's nest. 

In addition to versifying, Pennewip had still another hobby, which gavehim more claim to a throne than did anything else. He was possessedwith the mania for classifying, a passion known to few, but still ofnot infrequent occurrence. I have never quite understood the disease;and I gave up my search for the "first cause" as soon as I saw howdifficult it is to get around with a hobby-horse taken from somebodyelse's stable. So I am going to give only a short sketch of Pennewip'sharmless animal. 

Everything that he saw, perceived, experienced he divided intofamilies, classes, genera, species and sub-species, and made of thehuman race a sort of botanical garden, in which he was the Linne. Heregarded that as the only possible way to grasp the final purposeof creation and clear up all obscure things, both in and out ofschool. He even went so far as to say that Walter's New Testamentwould have turned up again if Juffrouw Pieterse had only been ableto tell to what class the man belonged who had bound the volume inblack leather. But that was something she didn't know. 

As for myself, I shouldn't have said a word about Pennewip's mania forclassifying everything, if I hadn't thought it might help me to givethe reader a better picture of our hero and his surroundings. I shouldhave preferred to leave the said Pennewip in undisturbed intercoursewith the muses; but we shall have occasion later to refer to hispoetic art, when we shall quote some poems by his pupils. 

After the usual general division into "animate" and "inanimate"--thegood man gave the human race only one soul--followed a system thatlooked like a pyramid. On the top was God with the angels andspirits and other accessories, while the oysters and polyps andmussels were crawling about down near the base, or lying still--justas they pleased. Half way up stood kings, members of school-boards, mayors, legislators, theologians and D. D. 's. Next under these wereprofessors and merchants who do not work themselves. Then camedoctors of things profane, i. E. , those driving double rigs, alsolawyers and untitled preachers, the Colonel of the City Militia, the Rector of the Latin School. Philosophers (only those who havedeveloped a system), doctors with one horse, doctors without anyhorse and poets were further down. Rather low down, and not far fromthe mussels, was the seventh sub-division of the third class of the"citizen population. " Our hero would come under this sub-section. 

 Citizen Population, Class III. , 7th Sub-Division. 

 People Living in Rented Flats. 

 a. Entrance for tenants only. Three-window front. Two stories, with back-rooms. The boys sleep alone, dress, however, with the girls. Fresh straw in case a baby is born. Learning French, poems at Christmas. The girls are sometimes called Lena or Maria, but seldom Louise. Darning. The boys work in offices. One girl kept, sewing-girl, and "person for the rough work. " Washing at home. Read sermons by Palm. Pickled pork on Sundays, with table-cloth, liquor after coffee. Religion. Respectability. 

 b 1. Still three windows. One story. Neighbors live above who ring twice (Vide b. 2). Leentje, Mietje; Louise heard seldom. House-door opened with a cord, which is sleek from long use. Sleep in one room. Straw-heaps in cases of confinement. One maid-servant for everything. Sundays cheese, no liquor, but religion and respectability as above. 

 b 2. Neighbors who ring twice. About as above. No maid, only a "person for the rough work. " Seamstress. White table-cloth. Cheese from time to time, only occasionally. Religion as above. 

 c. One story higher. Two-window front. Small projecting back-room. The entire family sleeps in two beds. No trace of straw. The boys are called Louw, Piet, or Gerrit, and become watchmakers or type-setters. A few become sailors. Continual wrangle with the neighbors about the waste-water. Religion as above. Associate with "respectable folk. " Read "Harlemmer" with III. 7, b. 2. No maid, or person for rough work, but a seamstress on seven stivers and a piece of bread and butter. 

That brings us to Juffrouw Pieterse. 

The reader will now have a very good idea of Walter's environment, andwill readily understand why I said he had a "city complexion. " Thatwas when we saw him in the Hartenstraat, on the road to fame, or onthe road to that nameless "other thing" of Juffrouw Laps. At allevents he was on his way to things that will occupy our attentionfor some time yet. 

CHAPTER VI

It was Wednesday, and the Pieterses were going to give aparty. Juffrouw Laps had been invited, also the Juffrouw livingover the dairy, whose husband was employed at the "bourse. " FurtherMrs. Stotter, who had been a midwife for so long and was still merely"very respectable. " Then the widow Zipperman, whose daughter hadmarried some fellow in the insurance business, or something of thekind. Also the baker's wife. That was unavoidable: it was impossibleto buy all kinds of pastry and cakes without her finding out whatwas up. Then the Juffrouw living below and to the rear. Of courseshe wouldn't come, but the Pieterses wanted to show that they hadforgotten the late quarrel over the broken window-pane. If she didn'tcome that was the end of the matter, so far as Juffrouw Pieterse wasconcerned. She would have nothing more to do with the Juffrouw frombelow. I may add that the lady from below did not come, and that hername was stricken from the calling-list of those higher up. 

The children were to go to bed early, with the promise of a cup ofsage-milk for breakfast if they would not make any noise the entireevening. This drink largely took the place of tea then. It was thoughtthat the "noise" made by children would not be appreciated. Waltergot permission to go play with the Halleman boys, who were thoughtto be very respectable. He must be at home by eight o'clock; but thiswas said in a tone that gave him no cause to fear a reprimand in casehe should stay out later. Laurens, who of course was an apprentice toa printer, and usually came home about seven o'clock in the evening, was big enough to be present with the guests, but must promise to sitstill and drink only two glasses. The big girls were to be presentas a matter of course: They had been confirmed. Stoffel presided. Hisbusiness was to meet the gentlemen when they came for the ladies aboutten o'clock, and entertain the company with stories of Mungo Park. 

Leentje was to remain till the people were all there, as it was soinconvenient to have to open the door every time. She could makeherself useful in arranging the table and doing other things incidentto such occasions. But she "must move about a little brisker, "otherwise they would prefer to do everything themselves. 

The eldest of the girls, Juffrouw Truitje, must look after the"sage-milk. " Pietje had charge of the sandwiches; but Myntje was tosee to it that the butter was spread a little thicker, for the lasttime the bread had been too dry. 

Everything was going to turn out so nicely, "if only JuffrouwLaps wouldn't talk so much. " That was her failing. And, too, theyhoped that the widow Zipperman would "brag a little less about herson-in-law. " This was considered a source of weariness. And theJuffrouw who lived over the dairy "might be more modest. " She had"never lived in such a fine house"; and as for the shop--that was nodisgrace; and on the top floor--but one cannot tell how it will be. 

No one understood why the baker's wife used so many French words, whichwas not becoming in one of her station. "If she does it this evening, Stoffel, say something to me that she can't understand, then she willfind out that we are not 'from the street, ' that we know what's what. "

"It's all the same to me, " Juffrouw Pieterse continued, "whether theJuffrouw downstairs comes or not. I don't care a fig about it. --Four, five--Louw can sit there, but he must keep his legs still--and a chairthere--yes--so! It's a good thing she's not coming; it would have beentoo crowded. Leentje, go to work--do blow your nose! No, run over toJuffrouw Laps's and ask the Juffrouw if the Juffrouw could spare afew stools--without backs, you understand; because the chairs thereby the chimney--yes, ask the Juffrouw for a few stools, and tell theJuffrouw that they are for me, and that I expect the Juffrouws aboutseven. Give my compliments to the Juffrouw and wipe your nose. "

Juffrouw Pieterse didn't like to use personal pronouns; it wasimpolite. 

On this afternoon Walter went to his bridge early. It was now notso useless as usual, for the rain of the day before had filled theditch with water, which was even running, so that the straws whichWalter thoughtlessly, or full of thought--both are about the samething--threw into the water were carried down to the pond, wherethe logs lay that were to be sawed up by the "Eagle" and the "EarlyHour. " These were the names of the sawmills that for some weeks hadbeen the witnesses of Walter's daydreams. 

Glorioso was gone, and could not be replaced; but on those afternoonswhen he was free Walter returned involuntarily to the spot where he hadhad his first glimpse of the world of romance. How rough and crude thecolors in that first picture! Perhaps it was the very roughness of thecolors that attracted him and changed him, till he could not conceivehow he had ever found enjoyment in the little cakes on the corner. 

A peculiar prospective had opened up before him. He dreamed of thingsthat he could not name; but they made him bitterly dissatisfied withhis present condition. He was anxious to do everything prescribedto get to Heaven; but he thought it would be much easier to pray insuch a cave with wax candles. And as for honoring his mother, a pointupon which she always laid great stress--why didn't she have a trainlike the countess? Certainly he ought not to have sold the Bible;and he wouldn't do it any more--he had vowed it; but then he oughtto have had a box filled with florins, and a feather in his cap, just as it was in the book. 

He was disgusted with his brother Stoffel, and his sisters, andJuffrouw Laps, and the preacher and everything. He couldn't understandwhy the whole family didn't go to Italy and form a respectablerobber-band. But Pennewip and Keesje shouldn't go; that was certain. 

He wondered what had become of his verses. Every Wednesday suchpupils as had been well-behaved, and, for that reason, deemed worthyto contest for the "laurel, " handed in a poem written on some subjectsuggested by the teacher. This time the subject assigned to Walter was"Goodness, " which probably had some reference to his former behavior, and was a hint for the improvement of his moral character. But Walterhad already put goodness into rhyme so often, and found the subject sodry and tedious and worn-out that he had taken the liberty of "singing"something else. He selected the theme nearest his heart--robbers!

Like all authors he was greatly infatuated with his work. He wasconvinced that the teacher, too, would see the excellencies of his poemand forgive him for deviating from the path of goodness. The verseswould undoubtedly be sent to the mayor, and he would pass them on tothe Pope, who would then summon Walter and appoint him "Court-robber. "

And thus he dreamed and threw his straws into the stream. Theymoved away slowly and disappeared between the moss-coveredtimbers. Involuntarily his fancy had transmuted them into thecharacters of his world of romance. There went the countess withher long train, which got caught in the moss and held the countessfast. The virtuous Amalia met with no better luck; she got tangledup in the water lentils. And now came Walter himself. He approachedAmalia, in her green robes, and was just about to rescue her, whenhe was swallowed by a duck. This was most unkind of the duck, forit was Walter's last stalk of grass; and now in the rattling andbuzzing of the sawmills below he could hear Amalia repeating in areproachful voice:

 "Warre, warre, warre, we; Where is warre, warre, wall-- Walter, who will rescue me?"

This annoyed him, and he could not resist the temptation to throwa rock at the duck whose greediness had caused Amalia to doubt hischivalry. 

The duck chose the better part, and retired after she had done Walterall the damage she could. But the sawmills paid no attention to thesehappenings and continued to rattle away. 

Walter heard now in the noisy clatter of the mills all kinds of songsand stories, and, listening to these, he soon forgot Amalia and thePope. That the reader may not get a wrong impression of these mills, I hasten to say that there was really nothing extraordinary aboutthem. They buzzed and rattled just like other sawmills. 

It often happens that we think we perceive something which comes fromthe external world, when in fact it is only a subjective product inourselves. Similarly, we may think we have just imagined something, when really it came to us from the world of the senses. 

This is a kind of ventriloquism that often gives cause for annoyanceand enmity. 

I wonder which turns the faster?--Walter listened to the mills. Now--Ithink--no, begin together. Good! No, the Eagle was ahead! Oncemore--now!

Which will get there first? No, that won't do. Once more together. Looksharp, Morning Hour, --out again! I can't hold my eye on it--what awhirling and buzzing!

You are tired, are you? I believe it. 

If I might only sit on such a big wing, wouldn't I hold on tight? Andwouldn't the sawyer look?

Why are you called "Morning Hour"? Have you gold in your mouth? And"Eagle"! Can you fly? Take me with you. What a big play-ground upthere, and no school!

I wonder how the first school began. Which came first, the school, or the teacher? But the first teacher must have attended a school. Andthe first school must have had a teacher. 

So the first school must have just started itself. But that isimpossible. "Eagle, " can you turn yourself?--with the wind? Can youturn yourself some other way? Try it. Beat "Morning Hour. " Quick, quick--beautiful!

Now, once more alone. Good!

Now, together again! Karre, karre, kra, kra--stretch your arms out andtake me with you. Will you? Put your hat on, Eagle; how the ribbonsfly. --Who are you? Warre, warre, ware, wan--I can't help it; it was theduck. Tell me what your name is. Fanny, fanny, fanny, fan---- Is yourname fan? And you, Morning Hour, what is your name? Ceny, ceny, ceny, ce. What kind of a name is Ce? Now together--sing a song together:

 Fanny, fanny, fanny, fan-- Ceny, ceny, ceny, ce-- Fanny, ceny, fanny, ceny, Fanny, ceny, fan--cy. 

Fancy--what do you mean by that? Is that the name of both of you? Andwhat is it? Has it wings?

"Morning Hour" and "Eagle" had fused into something that had wingsand was called fancy. 

Fancy lifted Walter up and bore him away. 

When she brought him back to the bridge again it had already beendark for a long time. He shook himself as if he were wet, rubbed hiseyes and started home. We shall see later what awaited him there;but first we must go back a few hours. I hope the reader will notdisdain an invitation to Juffrouw Pieterse's. Remember that herhusband never made anything, but bought everything ready-made in Paris. 

In passing by I should like to make Master Pennewip a short visit. 

CHAPTER VII

School was out; and the seats looked as if the pupils had just leftthe tediousness of it all lying there. The map of Europe looked downpeevishly on the heap of writing-pads. There lay the mutilated andwell-worn goose-quills, which since time immemorial have opened upthe gates of learning. True, the black-board vaunted itself with theheavy results of the last lesson in "fractions"; but the school wasno more. The spirit had fled: It was a corpse. 

Yes, the "Geist" had gone out with the children; for the reader willsee in a moment that they carried about with them a tremendous amountof that article. 

We already know that this was the great day when Pennewip was tocriticise the poetical effusions of his young geniuses. There he sat, his restless wig sharing all the poetical feelings and emotions--andmotions--of its owner. We will just look over his shoulder and readwith him those inestimable treasures of poetic art; and perhaps wetoo shall be moved to emotion. 

Wig: In the middle, resting quietly. 

 Lucas de Bryer: "Our Native Land. "

 Cake and wine and native land, Out in the moonlight I take my stand; Our native land and cake and wine, And I hope the moon will shine; Five fingers have I on my hand, All to honor our native land. 

"Melodious, " said the teacher, "very melodious; and very profound. Cakeand wine, with our native land as a climax. "

Wig: On the right side. 

 Lizzie Webbelar: "My Father's Vocation. "

 The cat is sly, I know; My father is a dealer in Po- Tatoes and onions. 

"Original, immediate! But I don't like the way she cuts her potatoesin twain. "

Wig: On the left side. 

 Jeanette Rust: "The Weather-cock. "

 He stands on the chimney since long ago, And shows the wind which way to blow. 

"Smooth, but not quite correct, if examined closely--but I'll let itpass as poetic license. "

Wig: Down in front. 

 Leendert Snelleman: "Lent. "

 In Lent it is always nice, My brother's birth-day is in May, He says his feet need warming, So that Lent we must be praising, And then we're going to celebrate, Easter brings eggs and a holiday. 

"It's too bad that he's so careless with his rhymes. His imaginationis extraordinary. Very original. "

Wig: Down on his neck. 

 Keesje, the Butcher's Boy: "In Praise of the Teacher. "

 My father has slaughtered many a steer, But Master Pennewip is still living, I hear; Some are lean, and some are well-fed, He has slipped his wig to the side of his head. 

The wig actually went to the side of his head. 

"Well, this is curious. I hardly know what to say about it. "

The wig slipped to the other side. 

"What's the connection between me and steers?"

The wig protested vigorously against any implication of relationshipwith steers. 

"H--mm! Can it be that this is what our new-fangled writers callhumour?"

The wig sank down to his eyebrows, which signified doubt. 

"I will call up the boy and----"

The wig passed again to the zenith, to express its satisfaction withthe teacher's determination to interview the butcher's boy. 

 Lucas de Wilde: "Religion. "

 Religion very nice must be, Much it pleases the people we see. 

"The fundamental idea is very beautiful, " said the teacher, "but itought to have been developed better. "

The wig nodded acquiescence. 

 Trudie Gier: "Juffrouw Pennewip. "

 The path of virtue she shows us each day, And we are glad to go that way; And as there's nothing to do more fitting, She teaches us sewing, darning and knitting. 

The wig fairly leaped with pleasure, and the curls embraced oneanother. This out-pouring of Trudie's heart was borne at once toJuffrouw Pennewip, and was later hung by the fireplace in honor ofthe poetess and the subject of the poem. 

Then followed a sublime poem on God by Klaasje van der Gracht, theson of the Catechist. He was thirteen years old, and had not beenvaccinated--out of regard for predestination. 

"If only his father didn't help him!"

The wig was rigid with astonishment. 

 Louwtje de Wilde: "Friendship. "

 Friendship very nice must be, Much it pleases the people we see. 

The wig seemed dissatisfied. The "Religion" of Lucas de Wilde waspulled out and compared with Louwtje's "Friendship. "

"H--emm. It is possible. Another example of how one thought canoriginate in two heads at the same time. "

 Wimpje de Wilde: "Fishing. "

 Fishing very----

"What's that?"

Yes, really, there it was again:

 Fishing very nice must be, Much it pleases the people we see. 

The wig was moving continually. It looked as if it were fishing too. 

The teacher looked hurriedly through the remaining poems and picked outthe offspring of the entire Wilde connection. His worst suspicions wererealized. Mietje de Wilde, Kees de Wilde, Piet and Jan de Wilde--alluniformly declared that religion, friendship, fishing, dreaming, cauliflower and deception "very nice must be, " and that they werealso very pleasing "to the people we see. " A regular flood of thenice and pleasing. 

Now, what do you suppose the wig did? It did the best thing thatcould be done under the circumstances. More could not be expected of awig. As soon as it saw the futility of its efforts to comprehend thedifference between fishing, friendship, deception, dreams, religionand cauliflower, it merely ignored the whole matter, readjusted itselfand assumed an expression of expectancy for what was yet to come. 

 Leentje de Haas: "Admiral de Ruyter. "

 Pulling the rope with emotion, To the top of the mast he came, And then he went to the ocean, And won for himself great fame. 

 And very much more he perfected, Saleh he vanquished, too; A hero he was then elected, With nothing else to do. 

The wig lifted itself, the curls applauding enthusiastically. It wasevidently pleased. 

 Grete Wauzer: "The Caterpillar. "

 The caterpillar, free from care, Crawls on the tree just over there. 

"Descriptive poetry. A daring idea--the caterpillar crawling on thetree free from care. "

Wig: Quiet. 

Ah, the pleasure of a wig is short-lived! And how soon was thisone--but I will not anticipate. Soon, all too soon, the reader willknow the worst. 

 Walter Pieterse: "A Robber Song. "

"Aha, what's this? And 'goodness'? But where has he written ongoodness?"

The teacher could scarcely believe his eyes. He turned the sheet ofpaper over and examined the back side, hoping to discover there somelines on goodness. 

Then he saw that on Walter's sheet there was not a trace of "goodness. "

Oh, wretched wig!

Yes, wretched wig! For after it had suffered as never wig hadsuffered before, after it had been pulled at and tugged atand martyred in a manner beyond even the imagination of theWilde family, Master Pennewip snatched it from his head, twisted it convulsively in his hands, stammered a short"Heaven-human-Christian-soul-good-gracious-my-life--how is itpossible!" slapped it on his head again, covered it with his venerablecap and burst out the door like one possessed. 

He was on his way to Walter's home, where we shall soon see himarrive. As a conscientious historian, however, it will be my dutyfirst to give an account of the happenings there. 

CHAPTER VIII

"Goodness, I'm glad to see you! And so early, too! Leetje, place achair over there and get the footstool, but be in a hurry, or I'drather do it myself. And how are you? Juffrouw Laps is coming too, you know--Myntje, you'd better be thinking of your dough and stopcombing your head. That girl can't keep her hands off of her hairwhen there's company. But do take a seat--no, not in the corner;there's a draft there. "

There was no more draft in this corner than is usual to corners;but Mrs. Stotter was only a Vrouw, and not a "Juffrouw. " She hadno right to the seat of honour; for on all occasions a Juffrouwtakes precedence of a Vrouw, just as a Mevrouw takes precedence ofa Juffrouw. Everyone must keep his place, especially those in III, 7, b1; or c. , where etiquette is observed more closely than at thecourt of Madrid. The care and anxiety of the mistress of ceremoniesmake her work most trying, and, too, not merely for Juffrouw Pieterse. 

"Ah, my dear Juffrouw Pieterse, I was so surprised when Louwie cameto invite me, for I had just remarked to Wimpje, who makes caps, youknow--no, thank you, Pietje, I don't care for any just now--I saidto Wimpje, I wonder what Juffrouw Pieterse is doing, for I hadn'theard from you in so long, you know--yes, just throw it aside, it'smy old one; I knew you wouldn't mind my wearing my old one--and thenWimpje said----"

What Wimpje really said I don't know. Mrs. Stotter's garment, which shehad described as her "old one, " was removed and placed on the foot ofthe bed in the back room. The children, who were piled together therelike sardines, were duly admonished not to stretch out their feet, lest in doing so they injure Mrs. Stotter's "old" garment. 

"And now, my dear, be seated--yes, that's for us, twicealready. Leentje, where are you hiding now? Can't you hear thatsomebody is ringing?--It's probably Juffrouw Zipperman. JuffrouwZipperman is coming, too, you know. "

Again I am at a loss: I don't know whether it was Juffrouw Zippermanwho had rung, or somebody else. But the reader need not scold me forwriting a story that I don't know myself. I cannot be sure whether itwas Juffrouw Zipperman this time or Juffrouw Mabbel, from the bakery, or Juffrouw Krummel, whose husband is at the bourse, or JuffrouwLaps--but she didn't need to ring, as she lived in the house. Anyway, by half past seven the entire company was assembled, and Stoffel wassmoking his pipe as if his life depended upon it. Leentje had gone homewithout her piece of bread and butter. She "could get it to-morrow";to-day there was "so much to do, " and "one can't do everything at once, you know. "

"And then she got another one right away--don't you know? One witha wart on her nose. "

"Ah, it's an ordeal one has with girls, " said Juffrouw Pieterse. "Takeanother piece, don't wait to be insisted upon; it's a cake from yourown dough. "

"Excusez, " said the Juffrouw from the bakery, with a mouth like arabbit, a style of mouth signifying graciousness and good breeding. 

"You must eat more, or I shall think you don't like it. " She hadbaked it herself. 

"Then I cannot refuse, Juffrouw Pieterse. Obligé and many thanks. "

"And you, Juffrouw Laps, what can I pass you?" Juffrouw Laps selectedginger cake. 

"Fill the cups, Trudie! Yes, Mrs. Stotter, when you are here you mustdrink with us. You are welcome to anything we've got. Pietje, wipe offa table--such a girl! And now go and look after the baby, and tellher that I don't want to hear any more noise. Ah, Juffrouw Mabbel, children are a great deal of trouble. And your little Sientje--howis her cough now?"

"We've got a magnetisier, but that isn't enough. We must have theclairvoyange of the sonnebule. "

"You don't say so! One can hardly believe it. And when is he coming, the cler--cleek--clar----"

"It's in the nerves, Juffrouw Zipperman. But he has the little nightcapand nightgown, in which she has sweated, you know; and he says thatit will come all right now. "

"Who would have thought it! What will you do now?"

"That's just it; the sonnebule must tell us what to do. "

Juffrouw Laps could not agree to this. 

"I wouldn't do it--I wouldn't do it--not for anything in the world! Itell you, what God does is all right. Just mark my words!"

"Yes, Juffrouw Laps; but the Juffrouw at the provision store did it, and her child is lots better. "

"That's what you say, Juffrouw Mabbel, but I tell you there issomething in her eye that I don't like. "

"What then, Juffrouw Laps?"

"She has a look, a look--and it's sin--I tell you it is. It's wrong, it won't do. What God does is all right. "

"Come, Stoffel, talk some. You sit there like a stone. Recite a poem, or tell us something about your school. Would you believe it, JuffrouwMabbel, he knows a whole poem by heart. And he has memorized all theverbs of the feminine gender. "

"Mother, what are you talking about?" said Stoffel, displeased. "Don'tyou see I'm smoking?"

"Yes, dear, I meant when you were through smoking. Then you can repeatthe words. You will be surprised, Juffrouw Zipperman, and wonder wherehe learned it all. How does it go? 'I would have been drunk, he wouldhave been drunk'--of course, you know, he was not drunk, it belongswith the verbs. You will kill yourself laughing when he begins. Fillthe cups, Trudie, and blow in the spout; there's a leaf over it. "

The reader will not take it amiss, I trust, if I pass over thesubsequent history of this leaf, and, too, make some deviations fromthe text of the conversation during the further course of JuffrouwPieterse's tea-evening. Stoffel spun off his conjugations and theladies fairly shrieked when he related how "he had been drunk" andthat "he would be drunk. " Thereupon followed general and particularcriticism of the neighbors. The Juffrouw below received her share, as a matter of course: She was absent. 

Religion and faith play an important part. Juffrouw Laps was fororganizing a prayer-class. The preachers of to-day, she insisted, take their work too lightly and don't sweep out all the corners. 

"I tell you, it's in the Bible that man is only man, " she cried;"that's what I want to tell you. Man must not try to know better thanGod himself. Salvation comes through grace, and grace through faith;but if a man is not chosen, then he has no grace and can have nofaith. That's the way he is damned, don't you see? I tell you, it'sjust as certain as twice two--understand? And for that reason I wantto have a prayer-class. Not for the sake of money or profit--God helpme, no! At most just a trifle for the fair, or for New Year. What doyou think of the plan, Juffrouw Mabbel?"

That lady expressed the opinion that her husband would be opposed toit, for he liked to go out of evenings, and then she must stay in theshop. Besides, it was so difficult to get through with the work. Noone could imagine what a laborious occupation baking was. 

"What do you say, Juffrouw Zipperman? Don't you think it would be ago? I would serve coffee; and the people could leave something on thesaucers. Really, I am not doing it for the money. We would begin withthe Old Testament--and then--exercise, you know; practice--understand?"

Juffrouw Zipperman thought it would be very nice; but her son-in-lawhad said that the preachers are paid to do this, and that anyadditional "exercise" was merely an unnecessary expense. 

"What do you say to it, Juffrouw Krummel? Don't you think that sucha class--just a small class----"

Juffrouw Krummel said she practiced with her husband when he camefrom the bourse. 

Juffrouw Laps was now forced to turn to Mrs. Stotter, though she feltthat she was letting herself down in appealing to a Vrouw. 

"Ah, my dear Juffrouw Laps, if you had been a midwife as longas I have you'd take no interest in a prayer-class. Now there isM'neer Littelman in Prince Street. I've been at his house--always inrespectable houses--and he always said--it's a house with high steps, and in the hall there's a big clock about the wind and rain--and healways said: 'Vrouw Stotter, ' said he, 'you're a good woman, ' said he, 'and a faithful midwife. I always tell the people that, ' said he, 'and, ' said he, 'all of my connection must send for you, ' said he, 'but, ' said he, 'when people tell you this you must act as if youdidn't hear it'--thank you, Juffrouw Pieterse, my cup is turnedover. Just as I said: Everyone must know what he's doing. "

"But just a little exercise like that, Mrs. Stotter!"

"It's possible, it's possible. But I've had so much experience in suchthings. I go my own way; and that's the best way, too. For I've been inthe home of M'neer Witte, who has an uncle in congress--for I alwaysgo to respectable places--and he always said, because he's so funny:'Child-woman, child-woman, you're nothing but a child-woman. ' I wasjust going to say that I know what I'm doing, for I've seen a lot inmy life. There's M'neer--what's his name? There in Prince Street--no, no, Market Square. Oh, what is his name!"

The reader will have noticed that Mrs. Stotter digressed from thetheme. But other folk do the same. 

"And Juffrouw Pieterse, what do you think of the idea? Just a littleexercise. "

"Ah, my dear, I have exercise enough with my children. You don't knowwhat it means to bring up nine. I always worship with the children, for the Bible says--Trudie, go to the baby; I hear her again. "

There was something noble in Trudie's gait as she walked into thatback room. One could see that she felt flattered by the transmissionto her of maternal dignity. Little Kee, the baby, was less flattered. 

"What were we talking about? Yes, that is my religious service. Thechildren keep me busy. You don't know anything about it; if I bringthem up properly--run, Pietje, and straighten out Simon. He's pinchinghis sister again; he always does it when there's company. "

Simon was straightened out. 

"Whenever we have company the children behave so badly. There itgoes again. Myntje, go and see what's the matter and tell them to goto sleep. "

Myntje went, returning immediately with the report that they had"turned something over. "

General indignation. Angry message from the Juffrouw below. It wasunpleasant for the Juffrouw below when the children of the Juffrouwabove turned over things and flooded the back room. Terribleexcitement. 

Finally the children were straightened out. 

Juffrouw Zipperman again sat in the corner where there was such a"draft. " This only goes to show that earthly greatness has its darkside, and that a son-in-law in the insurance business entitles oneto rheumatism. 

Juffrouw Laps was greatly pleased with the hearty manner in whichpunishment was meted out to the children. It was exactly accordingto Scripture, she said; and then she cited a text or two in whichthe rod was prescribed. It's in the Bible somewhere, I don't knowwhere. The Bible mentions everything, and the "rod" especially. 

"Now, Stoffel, " said the hostess sweetly, "recite something forus. " She wanted to show that her children could do something elsebesides pinch and turn things over. 

"I don't know anything, " said Stoffel, but without a trace of Socraticarrogance. 

"Just say for us what you said the other day. Come, Stoffel. That'sthe way he always is, Juffrouw Mabbel. One has to pull him up on hisfeet before he will do anything. But then he goes all right. Forward, Stoffel! He's tired now. Teaching in such a school is hard work. Yes, Juffrouw, he's as smart as he can be. Would you believe it? All wordsare either masculine or feminine. Aren't they, Stoffel?"

"No, mother. "

"No? But--and the other day you said--it's only to get him started, you know, Juffrouw Zipperman, it takes a little time, because he'sworn out with his school work--but you said that all words----"

"No, mother. Masculine, feminine or neuter, I said. "

"Yes, and still more, " said Juffrouw Pieterse. "You will be astonishedwhen you hear him. What do you suppose you are, Juffrouw Krummel?"

"I? What I am?"

"Yes, yes, what you are--what you really are. "

"I am Juffrouw Krummel, " she said, but doubtfully; for she read inthe triumphant look of Juffrouw Pieterse and the tightly closed lipsof Stoffel that she might easily be something entirely different fromJuffrouw Krummel. 

The tension did not need to be farther increased; so Juffrouw Pietersepassed now from the special to the general. Her glance took in theentire company. 

"And you, too, Juffrouw Mabbel; and you, Juffrouw Laps; and you, Juffrouw Zipperman; and you, Mrs. Stotter--what do you all thinkyou are?"

No one knew. 

This will not be surprising to anyone who knows how difficult knowledgeof the "self" is; but Stoffel had something else in mind. There wasa deeper meaning involved. 

Juffrouw Laps was the first to answer, and she spoke with proudself-sufficiency:

"I am Juffrouw Laps!"

"Wrong, wrong--entirely wrong!"

"But for Heaven sake, am I not Juffrouw Laps?"

"Y-e-s. Of course you are Juffrouw Laps; but Stoffel didn't ask whoyou were, but what you were. There's the fine point. "

"What I am? I'm Dutch Reform!"

"Y-e-s. That you are, too; but--it isn't that. The question is, What are you? Help her out, Stoffel. "

Between puffs of smoke, and with the air of a professor, Stoffelproceeded to "help":

"Juffrouw Laps, I wished to know what you were from a zoölogicalstandpoint. "

"I won't have anything more to do with it, " said Juffrouw Laps inthe tone of one who feels that he is going to be insulted. 

"I am a midwife, " said Mrs. Stotter, "and I'm going to stick to it. "

"And I am the baker's wife, " cried Juffrouw Mabbel, with a positivenessin her tone which showed her intention to hold to this opinion. 

"Certainly, certainly, Juffrouw Mabbel; but I mean from a zoölogicalstandpoint. "

"If it's going to be indecent, I prefer to go home. "

"I, too, " added Juffrouwen Krummel and Zipperman. "We came here tobe entertained. "

"But you're not going to get angry about it! I tell you, it's inthe book, Stoffel--you will laugh when you hear it, Juffrouw Mabbel;and the best part of it is, that it's in the book, and one can't sayanything against it. Tell her, Stoffel!"

"Juffrouw Laps, " said Stoffel with dignity--an important moment inJuffrouw Pieterse's tea-evening had arrived--"Juffrouw Laps, you area sucking animal. "

I admit frankly that I cannot adequately describe the crisis thatfollowed these two words. If Stoffel had only said mammal, perhapsthen my task would have been easier. 

Juffrouw Laps's face took on all the different colors that aregenerally supposed to express anger. She had been attacked more openlythan the others, it is true; but her attitude toward the prayer-classwould go to show that she was naturally polemical. 

In French novels people used to turn green; but Juffrouw Laps did notread French, so she stopped at a terrible violet and screamed--no, she didn't. She didn't scream anything; for she was choking forbreath. But she did pulverize that piece of ginger cake; and shelooked at Stoffel and his mother in a manner that would have been mostdamaging for her if those two persons had happened to die that night. 

Imitating the trick of the cuttle-fish, no doubt unconsciously, Stoffel managed to escape this fatal stare by enveloping himself in aheavy cloud of smoke. Juffrouw Pieterse, however, not being a smoker, was at the mercy of Juffrouw Laps. She stammered humbly: "It's inthe book, really it's in the book. Don't be angry, it's in the book. "

By this time Juffrouw Laps was getting a little air, so much thatthere was now no danger of her suffocating. She threw the mutilatedremains of the ginger cake on the table and began:

"Juffrouw Pieterse, you are nothing but a low, vile, filthy--youmay even be a sucking animal, you and your son too. I want youto understand that I've always been respectable. My father soldgrain, and nobody's ever been able to say anything against me! Askeverybody about me--if I've ever run with men-folk, and such things;and if I haven't always paid my debts. He was manager I would haveyou understand, and we lived over the chapter-house, for he was inthe grain business, and you can ask about me there. Thank God, youcan ask about me everywhere--do you hear? But never, never, never, has such a thing happened to me. What you put on me! If it wasn'tfor lowering myself I'd tell you what I think of you--you suckinganimal, you and your son and your whole family. My father sold grain, and I'm too respectable for you to----"

"But--it's in the book that way. For God's sake believe me; it's inthe book. "

"Just hold your lip about your book. Anybody who sells God's holyword on the Ouwebrug needn't talk to me about books. "

This accusation was false; for Walter, and not his mother, had soldthe Bible; but this was no time for such fine distinctions. 

"Stoffel, go get the book and show Juffrouw--my God, what shall I do!"

"Go to the Devil with your book and your sucking animals. You've gotnothing to show in your book. I know you--and your lout of a son, and your wenches of daughters, that are growing up like----"

Truitje, Myntje and Pietje, understanding from this that therewas something radically wrong with their growth, began to screechtoo. Other members of the party bawled a word from time to time, as opportunity presented itself. Then came another message from theJuffrouw below. This time she threatened to call in the police. Thechildren, taking advantage of the general excitement to break theban under which they had been placed, had left the bed and werenow listening at the keyhole. Juffrouw Pieterse was calling for thecamphor bottle, declaring that she was going to die; Mrs. Stotterwas clamoring for her wrap--her "old one"; and Stoffel was playingcuttle-fish as well as he could. 

All had got up and were going to leave. They could "put up with agood deal, " but that was "too much"! Juffrouw Krummel was going totell her husband; Juffrouw Zipperman was going to let everybody in theinsurance business know about it; Mrs. Stotter was going to relate thewhole story to the gentleman in Prince Street; and Juffrouw Mabbel--Iforget whom she was going to tell it all to. In short, every one ofthem was going to see to it that the affair was well aired. 

Who knows but what these threats would have been carried out, if thegood genius of the Pieterses had not at that moment caused someoneto ring the door-bell? It was that worthy gentleman whom we left insuch a state of pious despair at the close of the last chapter. 

CHAPTER IX

Yes, the door-bell rang. And it rang again: So it was "forus. " Juffrouw Pieterse drew a long breath; and I must say, she dida very proper thing. While admitting that it is foolish to say whatone would do if one were somebody else, still, in her place I shouldhave drawn a long breath, too. Firstly, because I imagine she hadn'tdone this for a long time; secondly, because I know how, in adversecircumstances, every change and interruption gives one ground forhope; and, finally, because I think Juffrouw Pieterse was human, just like the rest of us. 

"Ah, my dears, " she said, "be peaceable. It must be the gentlemen. "

The ladies declared it couldn't be the gentlemen, because it wastoo early for them; and this very doubt and uncertainty as to who itmight be gave the crisis a favorable turn. 

Mere uncertainty, even when in no way connected with what is occupyingus, has a sort of paralyzing effect. Besides, when one is interruptedin one's anger, afterwards it is difficult to find the place whereone left off. 

This was Juffrouw Laps's experience; she tried it, but it wouldn'twork. Her "a sucking animal, a sucking animal!" was smothered by, "What can it mean? He never comes before ten!"

Juffrouw Pieterse quickly availed herself of this diversion to getthem all seated again. 

Trudie was commissioned to "straighten out" the children, who came offrather badly. The hostess was just about to state a new zoölogicalargument, which should establish peace between the hostile parties, when the door opened and Master Pennewip stood before the agitatedassembly. 

He, too, was agitated: the reader knows it. 

The surprise caused by the arrival of this unexpected visitor had amost favorable effect on the peace negotiations. A truce was tacitlydeclared, though not without the proviso, at least on Juffrouw Laps'spart, that hostilities should be reopened as soon as curiosity as toPennewip's visit had been sufficiently satisfied. Indeed, she wasall the more willing for a truce, as it was evident from the man'sappearance that there was something momentous at hand. His wig criedout fire and murder in unmistakable tones. And that was just whatthe good Juffrouw Laps liked. 

"Good-evening, Juffrouw Pieterse; my humblest respects. I see youhave company, but----"

"That 'doesn't make a bit of difference, ' Master Pennewip. 'Comeright in and take a seat. '"

These forms of expression were rigidly observed in the "citizenpopulace, " III, 7. C. 

"Won't you drink a cup with us?"

"Juffrouw Pieterse, " he said with extreme dignity, "I didn't comehere simply to drink a cup of sage-milk. "

"But, Master Pennewip, please be seated!"

It wasn't easy; but the ladies made room and he was soon seated. 

He cleared up his throat and looked about him with dignity. Thenhe drew a roll of manuscript from his pocket, disarranged his wigand spoke:

"Juffrouw Pieterse! You are a worthy, respectable woman, and yourhusband sold shoes----"

Juffrouw Pieterse looked triumphantly at Juffrouw Laps. 

"Yes, Master Pennewip, quite so; he did----"

"Don't interrupt me, Juffrouw Pieterse. Your departed husband soldshoes. I have taught your children from little tots up to theirconfirmation. Haven't I, Juffrouw Pieterse?"

"Yes, Master Pennewip, " she replied modestly; for she was afraid ofthat excessive dignity in Pennewip's manner and voice. 

"And I just want to ask you, Juffrouw Pieterse, whether, during allthis time that your children were in my school, you ever heard anycomplaints--reasonable complaints--of the manner in which I, withmy wife, instructed your children in reading, writing, arithmetic, national history, psalmody, sewing, knitting, drawing and religion? Iput the question to you, Juffrouw Pieterse, and wait for a reply. "

An awful silence followed this speech. The Juffrouw below had everyreason to be satisfied. 

"But, Master Pennewip----"

"I don't want any 'but', Juffrouw Pieterse. I ask you, whether youhave had any complaints. I mean, of course, well grounded complaintsabout my instruction in reading, writing, arithmetic----"

"Well, no, Master Pennewip, I have no complaints; but----"

"So-oo? No complaints? Well, then I will explain to you--where isyour son Walter?"

"Walter? Dear me! Hasn't he come home, Trudie? He went to take awalk with the Halleman boys. They are such respectable children, Master Pennewip, and they live----"

"So! With the Hallemans--who go to the French school! Aha, andthat's it? So--from the Hallemans! And he learns such things from theHallemans--the Hallemans III, 7, a2, perhaps 'a'--yes, who knows butthat it might be II. It's no wonder--immorality, viciousness--at theFrench school! And now, Juffrouw Pieterse, I want to tell you thatyour son----"

"What did you say?"

Master Pennewip looked about him as if he were drinking in thebreathless silence that had fallen over his hearers. 

Juffrouw Laps hastened to repay with compound interest that triumphantlook of the hostess, while that lady, thoroughly miserable, was makingfrequent use of the camphor bottle. She was not so much mortified thatJuffrouw Laps should hear something else unfavorable about Walter, who had caused them so much trouble, as angry that she should bethe witness of an accusation that would give her a new weapon in thezoölogical fray. 

"Didn't I tell you so? Nothing good will ever come to this Walter. Aboy that begins with the Bible will end with something else. Yes, Master Pennewip, I'm not surprised--I shouldn't be surprised atanything he did. I've seen it coming for a long time. But whatshouldn't one expect from a family----"

As quick as a flash Juffrouw Pieterse saw here her opportunity torecover her lost advantage. Stoffel had said it was in the book;but a teacher must know whatever is in a book. Therefore----

"Master Pennewip, " she cried, "Is it true that Juffrouw Laps is asucking animal?"

I am convinced that Pennewip brought this question under a specialcategory for "peculiar overflowings of the heart, " seeing that itfollowed upon his unfinished accusation against Walter. He lookedover his glasses and slowly described with his eye a circle, peopledwith women holding their breath, heads and necks stretched out andmouths wide open. The attitude of Juffrouw Laps was threatening aboveeverything else, and said quite distinctly: Answer or die! Am I asucking animal?

"With whom have I the honor to speak?" he asked, probably notconsidering that this question made the matter still more mysterious, giving the impression that Laps's animal quality depended upon hername, age, place of residence, family relations, etc. 

"I am Juffrouw Laps, " she said, "and live down stairs in the frontpart of the house. "

"Ah--so! Yes, indeed you belong to the class of sucking animals. "

A ten-fold sigh was heaved; and Juffrouw Pieterse was againtriumphant. In politics and the citizen populace complete equilibriumis impossible. The parties or powers are in continual motion, firstone in the ascendency, then the other. 

Juffrouw Laps, who had not been able to accomplish anything with pride, now attempted good humor. 

"But Master Pennewip, " she said sweetly, "how can you say such athing? My father was in the grain business and----"

"Juffrouw Laps, answer me one question. "

"Yes, Master Pennewip, but----"

"Answer me, Juffrouw Laps, where do you live?"

"Where I live? Why, in my room, down stairs--two windows--frontentrance----"

"You miss the significance of my question entirely, Juffrouw Laps. Themeaning would be similar if I were to ask you if you belonged to thatclass of organisms that live in oyster-shells. "

"Yes, yes, Juffrouw Laps, " cried the triumphant hostess, "that's thepoint--the main point!"

And Stoffel added that it was really and truly the main point. 

Juffrouw Laps saw that she was hopelessly lost, for she had to admit toherself that she didn't usually reside in an oyster-shell. She lookedat the teacher with astonishment; but he paid no attention at all tothe effect of his questions. Assuming a sort of legal manner--whichwas closely imitated by his wig, he continued:

"Can you live in water? Have you gills?"

"In water? But--Master Pennewip----"

Wig to the left, which meant: No, but!

"Or half in water, half on land?"

"Master Pennewip, how should I----"

Wig to the right: No subterfuges. 

"Answer me, Juffrouw Laps, have you cold blood? Do you bring livingyoung into the world?"

"It is a sin, Master Pennewip!"

The wig now looked like a battering-ram, anticipating the nature ofthe next question. 

"Can you lay eggs, Juffrouw Laps? I only ask you the question. Canyou lay eggs? Eh?"

She said she couldn't. 

"Then you are a sucking animal, Juffrouw Laps!"

The wig was in the middle again resting quietly. It had vanquishedJuffrouw Laps. 

I wonder what the reader's idea is of the effect produced on thecompany by this terrible sentence, against which there could be noappeal. There was something pitiless in Pennewip's manner, and inhis contracted eyebrows there was no intimation of mercy. 

CHAPTER X

The attentive reader who knows human nature will naturally wish toknow why I closed the last chapter so tamely, and why that zoölogicalproblem which, only a short time before had caused such a violentexplosion, was now allowed to rest in peace. 

There are three reasons for this. 

Firstly, the women had been so wrought up that they were now exhausted. 

Secondly, Juffrouw Laps, the shrewd leader of the fight, looked overthe battlefield and, without thinking of the famous battle betweenthe Horatii and the Curiatii, saw with innate tactical talent thecorrectness of "divide and conquer. " With the forces Stotter, Mabbel, Krummel and Zipperman against the house of Pieterse--that was allright. But now that the house was supported by Pennewip's powerfulhand, it was prudent to withdraw from the battle. For who couldguarantee her that she might depend upon her allies? What assurancehad she that the midwife, or even Juffrouw Zipperman would not go overto the enemy?--if only out of deference to the versatile wig! No, no, no! She wouldn't risk her rhetorical artillery in such a doubtfulengagement! She was content to say to herself, "I will get evenwith you later. " Imagining her, with all her relations to society, multiplied by twenty or thirty millions, we would have read the nextday in this or that official Laps organ something like this:

"Our relations with the Pietersian empire are most cordial. Therecent friendly meeting between the two sovereigns was merely thatthey might have the mutual pleasure of seeing one another, and hadno political significance whatever. It will be seen how unfoundedwere those rumors of 'strained relations, ' which were said to havebeen brought about by a discussion of certain characteristics of ourpopular princess. The reader will recall that we never gave credenceto those rumors, and reported them with great reserve. "

Thirdly. The third and chief cause of the armisticewas--curiosity. Under the present changed circumstances whoeverbetrayed any anger would have to leave; and whoever left would notfind out why Master Pennewip had come, or what new crime Walter hadcommitted. Again we see the truth of the proposition, that everythinghas its good side. 

"But, Master Pennewip, " asked Juffrouw Pieterse--she threw thesubdued sucking animal a look that was like a triumphant telegram, and read: Where are you now?--"but Master Pennewip, what has Walterbeen doing now?"

"Yes, what has he been up to this time, " added Juffrouw Laps, delightedthat the conversation had taken this turn, and that she was now tohear about Walter's latest sin. 

For the sinner is a thing in which pious persons find muchedification. As we have already seen, Juffrouw Laps was fond ofedification. 

Pennewip was just on the point of beginning his indictment when thedoor-bell rang. It rang again: "It's for us"--and in a moment ourtruant walked into the room. 

He was paler than usual, and with good reason; for strange thingshad happened to him since Fancy had lifted him up and borne him away. 

"Juffrouw Pieterse, " began Pennewip, "my school is famous, even asfar away as Kattenburg. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Master Pennewip. "

"I repeat it: Famous! And, too, chiefly on account of the fine moralthere--I mean, of course, in my school. Religion and morality occupythe first place in my school. I could show you verses on the Deity--butI pass over that. It is sufficient for you to know that my school isfamous as far as--but what am I talking about--I've even had a boyfrom Wittenburg; and I was once consulted about the education of aboy whose father lived at Muiderberg. "

"Oh, Master Pennewip!"

"Yes, Juffrouw, I still have the letter and could show it to you. Theman was a gravedigger--the boy painted inappropriate figures onthe coffins. And just for this reason I feel it my duty to tell youthat I don't intend to see my school lose its good name through thatgood-for-nothing boy of yours there!"

Poor Walter had fallen from the clouds. That sounded quite differentfrom a papal appointment--which he really no longer cared for, as hehad just received another appointment that pleased him better. 

His mother wanted to pass immediately to what she called her "divineworship" and give him a sound thrashing, in order to satisfy theteacher that religion and morality took the first place in herhouse, too. 

But the teacher found it preferable to tell the party what thetrouble was, and incidentally to strengthen the feeling of guilt inthe patient. 

"Your son belongs to the class of robbers, murderers, ravishers ofwomen, incendiaries----"

That was all. 

"Holy grace! Heavenly righteousness! Compassionate Christian souls! Ah, divine and human virtue, is it possible! What must we endure!"

I cannot always be exact; but, in general, such was the flood ofexclamations that all but swept away that ten-year-old robber, murderer, ravisher of women and incendiary. 

"I am going to read you something from his hand, " said the teacher, "and then if anybody still doubts the boy's viciousness----"

All tacitly promised to have no doubts. 

The work that the teacher read was indeed of such a nature as to leavesmall room for doubts; and I, who have chosen Walter for my hero, anticipate difficulty in convincing the reader that he was not sobad as he seemed--after his

 "Robber Song. "

 "On the steed, Off I speed, With helmet on head And a sword in my hand and the enemy dead; Quick, away!"

"Christian souls, " cried the whole party, "is he mad?"

 "Rather late, Near the gate A push and a blow, Vanquished dragoon, Margrave laid low----"

"Heaven save us, what has he against the Margrave, " wailed the mother. 

 "For the spoil!"

"Don't you see, it's for booty, " said Juffrouw Laps. "I told you so:He began with the Bible, he'll end with----"

 "And the prize-- Pretty eyes----"

"Did you ever hear the like--he has scarcely shed his milk teeth!"

 "And the prize-- Pretty eyes-- She was bought with steel----"

"With ste-e-l!"

 "And the prize-- Pretty eyes-- She was bought with steel; I bore her away to the cave just to feel How it seemed. "

"Heavenly grace, what is he going to do in the cave?"

 "In my arm, Free from harm Lay the maid as we sped; Her cries, sweet complaints, and the tears----"

"Oh, blessed peace, and the poor thing crying!"

 "Her cries, sweet complaints, and the tears she shed-- O, delight!"

"And he calls that delight! I'm getting right cold. "

 "Then again, O'er the plain----"

"Holy Father, there he goes again!"

 "Then again, O'er the plain. Right and left, nothing spurned, Here a villa destroyed or a cloister burned For fun. "

"The Devil is in that boy. For fun!"

 "Farther yet, I forget-- But the deeds they were dire, And the road was marked with blood and fire And revenge!"

"Mercy on us! What had they done to him!"

 "Revenge's sweet, And is meet For the King of the World----"

"Is he crazy? I'll make him a king!"

 "Revenge's sweet And is meet For the King of the World, Who alone is supreme, with a banner unfurled Forever!"

"What sort of a thing is he talking about?"

 "All! Hurrah! But, I say----"

Everybody shuddered. 

 "All! Hurrah! But, I say No pardon shall be lavished, The men shall be hanged and the women----"

"Trudie, Trudie, the camphor bottle! You see--I----"

 "The men shall be hanged and the women ravished----"

"The camphor bottle! Trudie, Trudie!"

 "For pleasure!"

"For pleasure, " repeated the teacher in a grave-yard voice, "forpleasure!"

"He--does--it--for--pleasure!"

The company was stupefied. Even Stoffel's pipe had gone out. 

But Walter's was not a nature to be easily disturbed. After his motherhad beaten him till she came to her senses again, he went to bedin the little back room, far from dissatisfied with the day's work, and was soon dreaming of Fancy. 

CHAPTER XI

On the next day things had largely resumed their wonted course. Thatsomeone may not charge me with carelessness, or indifference towardsthe persons with whom we spent a pleasant evening, I will remarkin passing that Juffrouw Mabbel was again busy with her baking and"clairvoyange, " and that Mrs. Stotter had resumed her activities withthe stork. Those unfortunate creatures who were committed to her careshe condemned to lie motionless for two or three months--perhaps togive the newly born an idea of their new career, and, at the same time, to punish them for the shameful uproar they had caused by their birth. 

As for Master Pennewip, he was busy, as usual, educating futuregrandparents of the past. His wig had not yet recovered from theexcitement of the night before and was longing for Sunday. 

Klaasje van der Gracht had been awarded the prize with an impressive, "Keep on that way, my boy"; and he kept on. I still see poems inthe papers whose clearness, conciseness and sublimity betray hismaster hand. I have heard that he died of smallpox--he had not beenvaccinated; it will be remembered--but I consider it my duty toprotect him from any such slander. A genius does not die; otherwiseit wouldn't be worth while to be born a genius. Still, if Klaas haddied like other people, his spirit would have lived in those comingafter him. And that is a beautiful immortality. 

The family de Wilde, too, has not died out, and will not die. I amcertain of it. 

Juffrouw Krummel asked her husband if she was really a "suckinganimal. " Being from the bourse, and having much worldly wisdom, hereplied after reflection that of such things he didn't believe morethan half he heard. "In this case the last half, " he added--but softly. 

Juffrouw Zipperman had caught a cold; but was still able to boastabout her son-in-law. She was a "respectable woman. " Only she couldn'tendure for Juffrouw Laps to talk so much about "virtue, " and the"respectability" of her father, who was "in the grain business. " OldMan Laps, she said, was not in, but under the grain business. He hadcarried sacks of grain, but that was quite different from sellinggrain. For the man who sells is much bigger than the man whocarries. Juffrouw, therefore, had been making misleading statements. 

Trudie and her sisters had decked themselves out as well as possibleand were sitting at the window. When young people passed by theylooked as if they had never in their lives straightened out anybody. 

The Juffrouw in the rear below told the grocer that she was goingto move out; for it was just scandalous, simply scandalous the waythe Pieterses carried on in their back room; that she couldn't leaveanything uncovered. 

Juffrouw Pieterse was busy with her household, and looked likea working woman. From time to time she had "divine service" withthe children, who, if they could have had their choice, would havepreferred to have been born among the Alfures, Dajaks, or some otherbenighted people whose religion is less strenuous. 

I am glad to be able to say that Juffrouw Laps had passed a goodnight. I should like to tell more about her, but I don't care toexhaust myself. 

Stoffel had returned to school, and was trying to inspire the boys withcontempt for riches. He was using on them a poem that had probablybeen written in a garret by some poor devil or other whose wealthgave him little cause for complaint. The boys were inattentive, and seemed not to grasp the peculiar pleasure in having no money tobuy marbles. Stoffel attributed their hard-heartedness to Walter'scrazy ideas: They had heard of his attack on the Margrave and of thatremarkable visit to the cave. 

And Walter?

He still lived in expectation of the punishment he deserved sorichly. For his mother had given him to understand repeatedly thatthe little "straightening out" of the evening before was merely forpractice, and that the reward of his sin would be delayed till shecould speak with the preacher about it. 

In the meanwhile Walter didn't know what to do. He couldn't returnto school: Pennewip had closed for him that fountain of knowledge. 

Nor was he allowed to go out for a walk. "Who knows what he will doif I let him out of my sight?" said his mother, who was presumablyafraid that he might make a fresh attack on the cloisters. As a matterof fact, she denied him this privilege merely because Walter asked it. 

She expressed the opinion that it was best not to let bad childrenhave their own way. 

If Walter had been right wise, he would have pretended to be thoroughlyin love with that dark back room; then, for his moral improvement, he would have been chased down the steps, and away to his sawmills. 

But Walter was not smart. 

He was forbidden to go into the front room because the young ladiesdid not care to see him. 

That back room was more than dark: It was narrow, and dirty, and reeked with all the fumes of "III, 7, c. " But Walter was usedto all this and much more. He had always been a martyr--bandages, poultices, bandy legs, biblical history, rickets, poems on goodness, evening prayers, the judgment day, hobgoblins for wicked children, closed eyes before and after the slice of bread, sleeping with crookedknees, committing sins, fear for the torn breeches, "divine service"with and without sensible accompaniment!

That droll robber song, whose origin we know so well, shows how easilyhis childish soul was moved by whatever seemed great to him. He was apure child, and he was a good boy. He wouldn't have hurt a fly. Thecriminal character of his song was due to his desire to grasp whatis greater than everything else and to be the leader in that worldcreated by his childish fancy. 

Robber--good! But a first-class robber, a robber of robbers, a robberwithout mercy--for pleasure!

As to the gross mistreatment of women mentioned in his song, he hadno idea what it meant. He used the word for the sake of rhyme, andbecause from certain sentences in his book he had got the impressionthat it must afford great pleasure. 

If, perchance, for those fourteen stivers Grandisson--wearyremembrance--had fallen into his hands, his Wednesday's poem would havebeen quite different. No doubt he would have sought a reconciliationwith the butcher's Keesje, forgiving him completely all his libertieswith "Holland nobility" and even presenting him a few slate pencils. 

For that is the striking characteristic of spirits such asWalter's. Whatever they are, they are that with all their might, always going further in any direction than they would seem to bewarranted in doing by the mere external circumstances. 

From such characters we could hope much, if through some chance--i. E. , a natural cause, which we call chance, because we do not understandit and are ashamed to admit our ignorance--if through some chancethey were not born among people who do not understand them, and, therefore, mistreat them. 

It is one of our peculiarities that we like to mistreat anyonewhose soul is differently organized from ours. How does the watchmove? asks the child, and cannot rest until he has torn apart thewheels he could not understand. There the watch lies in pieces, andthe little miscreant excuses himself with the remark that he justwanted to see how it was made. 

CHAPTER XII

Walter sat with his elbows on the table, his chin resting in hishands. He seemed to be deeply interested in Leentje's sewing, butwe shall see in a moment that his thoughts were elsewhere, and, too, far away from III. 7, c. 

They had forbidden her to speak to the shameless rascal, and onlyoccasionally, when Juffrouw Pieterse left the room, did she have anopportunity to whisper to him a few words of comfort. To be sure, she noticed that Walter was not so sad as we should expect one to bewho was caught in between the thrashing of yesterday and the priest ofto-morrow. This gentleman was to come to-morrow to settle the matter. 

"But, Walter, how could you speak of burning cloisters!"

"Ah, I meant--sh!"

"And the Count--what had he done?"

"It was a Margrave--sh!"

"What sort of a count is that? I'll bet he was one out of anotherhouse. "

"Yes, it was Amalia's father--but that isn't it. I have something totell you, Leentje--sh!"

"Amalia--who is Amalia?"

"That was my bride, but--Leentje, I wanted to tell you something--sh!"

"Your bride! Are you mad, Walter? Your bride?"

"Yes, she was; but now no more. I was going to help her--but a duckcame--but that isn't it, Leentje. Now I see it all--sh. I swam by--sh!"

"Who, what? Swam by?"

"By Amalia. She sat on the rushes--now I understand it all--I am--sh!"

"I don't understand a word, Walter. But the women--why did youwant to----"

Poor innocent Leentje. 

"The women were in the book--but listen, I am--sh!"

"And the cloisters?"

"That has nothing to do with it--I know everything now. Listen Leentje, I am--sh!"

"For Heaven sake, Walter, what's the matter with you? You look as ifyou were mad. "

Walter had a vision. He stretched himself up, cast a proud glanceat the beams in the ceiling, placed his right hand over his heart, extended his left, as if he were draping a Spanish mantle abouthim--remember that he had never been in a theatre--and said:

"Leentje, I am a prince. "

At that moment his mother came in, boxed his ears and sent him outof the room. 

Walter's principality was in the moon--no, much farther away. 

In the following the reader shall learn how he had attained to thisnew dignity. 

Long before the beginning of this story--yes, a long time beforethis--there was a queen of spirits, just like in "Hans Heiling. " Hername was A----o. 

She did not live in a cave, but held her court far up in the clouds;and this was airier and more suitable for a queen. 

She wore a necklace of stars, and a sun was set in her signet-ring. 

Whenever she went forth, the clouds flew about like dust, and witha motion of her hand she drove away the firmaments. 

Her children played with planets as with marbles, and she complainedthat it was so difficult for her to find them again when they hadrolled away under the furniture. 

The little son of the queen, Prince Upsilon, was peevish over thisand was continually calling for more playthings. 

The queen then gave him a sack of siriuses; but in a short time these, too, were all lost. It was Upsilon's own fault: He ought to have paidmore attention to his playthings. 

They tried to satisfy him as best they could, but no matter what theygave him, he always wanted something else, something larger. Thiswas a defect in the character of the little prince. 

The mother, who, as queen of the spirits, was a very intelligent woman, thought it would be a good idea for the little prince to accustomhimself to privations. 

She issued an order, therefore, that for a certain time Upsilon wasto have no playthings. 

The order was carried out. Everything was taken away from him, even the comet that he and his little sister Omicron happened to beplaying with. 

Prince Upsilon was somewhat stubborn. He so far forgot himself oneday as to speak disrespectfully to his mother. 

Even Princess Omicron was contaminated by his example--nothing isworse than a bad example--and violently threw her pallet against theuniverse. That was not becoming in a girl. 

Now, in the kingdom of spirits, there was a law to the effect, thatanyone showing disrespect toward the queen, or throwing anythingagainst the universe, should be deprived of all titles and dignitiesfor a certain length of time. 

Prince Upsilon became a grain of sand. 

After he had behaved himself well in this capacity for a few centurieshe received the news that he had been promoted to be a moss plant. 

Then one morning he woke up and found himself a coral zoöphyte. 

That occurred about the time that man began to cook his food. 

He was industrious, building up islands and continents on the earth. Inrecognition of his zeal he was turned into a crab. 

In this capacity, too, there could be no complaint against him, and he was soon transferred to the class of sea-serpents. 

He played some innocent pranks on sailors, but he never harmedanyone. Soon he received four feet and the rank of a mastodon, withthe privilege of roaming over the land. 

With the self-control of a philosopher he entered upon his new life, busying himself with geological investigations. 

A few centuries later--remember that in the kingdom of spirits all timetaken together is only as a short quarter of an hour--or to speak morecorrectly, that all time is nothing. For time was made merely for man, for his amusement, and given to him just as we give picture books tochildren. For spirits, present, past and future are all the same. Theycomprehend yesterday, to-day and to-morrow at a glance, just as onereads a word without spelling it out. What was and is going to be, is. 

The Egyptians and Phoenicians knew that very well, but Christianshave forgotten it. 

Fancy knew that Walter could not read, so she related Upsilon's storyto him, just as I am doing for the reader. 

Some centuries later he had become an elephant; then a moment later, i. E. , about ten years before the opening of my story--I mean yearsas we mortals reckon them--he was elevated to the class of man. 

I don't know what sins he may have committed as an elephant. 

Anyway, Fancy had said, that in order to return to his station as aspirit-prince in a short time and escape any further degradation itwas necessary for him to be diligent and well behaved in his presentstate, and not write any robber songs, or slip out things and sellthem--even if it was only a Bible. 

And, too, he must become reconciled to seeing Juffrouw Pietersewithout a train on her dress. Fancy said it couldn't be helped. 

This "Fancy" must have been some lady at his mother's court, whovisited him in his exile to comfort and encourage him, so thathe wouldn't think they were punishing him because they were angrywith him. 

She promised to visit him from time to time. "But, " asked Walter, "how is my little sister getting along?"

"She's being punished, too. You know the law. She is patient withit all and promises to improve. At first she was a fire-ball; butshe behaved so nicely that she was soon changed to a moon-beam; andalso in this state there was nothing against her. It seemed to bea pleasure for her; and it was all her mother could do to keep fromshortening the punishment. She was soon turned into vapor, and stoodthe test well; for she filled the universe. That was about the timeyou began to eat grass. Soon she was a butterfly. But your motherdid not consider this suitable for a girl and had her changed intoa constellation. There she stands before us now. "

It often happens that we do not see a thing because it is too big. 

"Look, " said Fancy. "There--to the right! No, further--there, there--the north star! That is her left eye. You can't see her right, because she is bending over towards Orion, the doll which she holdsin her lap and caresses. "

Walter saw it plainly enough and cried: "Omicron, Omicron!"

"No, no, prince, " said the lady of the court, "that will not do. Eachmust undergo his punishment alone. It's already a great concessionthat you two are imprisoned in the same universe. Recently, when yourlittle brothers flooded the milky way with sin, they were separatedcompletely. "

Walter was sad. How gladly would he have kissed his littlesister!--that group of stars nursing the doll. 

"Ah, Fancy, let me be with Omicron. "

Fancy said neither yes nor no. 

She looked as if she were reflecting on the possibility ofaccomplishing the almost impossible. 

Walter, taking courage from her hesitation, repeated his request. 

"Ah, let me live with my little sister again, even if I have to eatgrass or build continents--I will eat and build with pleasure, if Imay only be with Omicron. "

Probably Fancy was afraid to promise something beyond her power;and she was sorry not to be able to give her promise. 

"I will ask, " she whispered, "and now----"

Walter rubbed his eyes. There was the bridge and the ditch. He heardthe ducks cackling from the distance. He saw his mills again. Yes, yes, there they were. But their name was no longer--what was their name?

The mills were called "Morning Hour" and "Eagle, " and they calledout just like other sawmills: "Karre, karre, kra, kra----"

Thereupon Walter went home. We have already seen what awaited himthere. 

CHAPTER XIII

The preacher had come and gone. Sentence had been passed and thepenalty paid. But Walter was depressed and despondent. Leentje didher best to put some animation into him, but in vain. Perhaps it wasbecause she no longer understood her ward. 

Those confidential communications of Walter's were beyond hercomprehension; and often she looked at him as if she doubted hissanity. From her meagre weekly allowance she saved a few doits, thinking to gladden Walter's heart with some ginger cakes, which hehad always enjoyed. It was no use: Walter's soul had outgrown gingercakes. This discovery caused Leentje bitter pain. 

"But, my dear child, be reasonable, and don't worry over suchfoolishness. This Fancy, or whatever the creature's name is, hasmocked you; or you have dreamed it all. "

"No, no, no, Leentje. It's all true. I know everything she said, and it's all true. "

"But, Walter, that story about your sister--you would have known thatlong ago. "

"I did know it, but I had forgotten it. I knew everything that Fancytold me. It had only slipped out of my mind. When she spoke, then itall came back to me distinctly. "

"I will go to those mills some day, " said Leentje. 

And she did it. After Walter's description she was able to findthe place where that important meeting had taken place. She sawthe timbers, the dirt, the ducks, the meadow--everything was there, even the ashes, --everything except Fancy and her stories. 

Nor could Walter find Fancy now. In vain did he go out walking withthose respectable Halleman boys as often as he was in the way athome. For hours he would stand on the bridge and listen to the rattlingof the sawmills; but they told him nothing, and Fancy would not return. 

"She has too much to do at my mother's court, " Walter sighed, andwent home sad and disappointed. 

When he looked out the window and saw the beautiful stars twinklingencouragement to him, he cheered up a little. His sadness was lessbitter, but it was still there. Pain passed into home-sickness, a sweet longing for home, and with tears in his eyes, but no longerdespairing, he whispered "Omicron, Omicron!"

Who heard that call, or understood his grief over his exile? Whoobserved how that sigh for the "higher" and that fiery desire hadpassed into a nobler state?

After long deliberations and Walter's express promise to do better, Master Pennewip had at last been prevailed upon to allow our youngrobber to return to school. He now had the opportunity to perfecthimself in verse-writing, penmanship, verbs, "Holland Counts" andother equally important things. 

The teacher said that the boy at Muiderberg had been still worse, and he had known what to prescribe. Walter would do all right now, he thought; but Juffrouw Pieterse must get another pastor, for thepresent one belonged to the class of "drinkers. " This she did. Walterwas to receive religious instruction from a real preacher. 

I don't remember the title of the book, but the first lines were:

 "Q. From whom did you and everything in existence have its origin?"

Walter wanted to say, From my mother; but the book said:

 "Ans. From God, who made everything out of nothing. "

 "Q. How do you know that?"

 "Ans. From nature and revelation. "

Walter didn't know what it meant, but like the good-natured, obedient child that he was, he repeated faithfully what he hadmemorized from the book. It was annoying for him to have hisSundays spoiled by recitations in the Kings of Israel--days so wellsuited for rambling. He was jealous of the Jews, who were always ledaway--a misfortune that seemed delightful to him. But he worked awaypatiently, and was not the worst of those apprentices in religion. Atthe end of the year he received a book containing three hundred andsixty-five scriptural texts, twenty-one prayers, as many graces, the Lord's Prayer, the ten commandments and the articles of faith. Italso contained directions for using it--once a day through the year, three times a day for a week, etc. , etc. ; or simply use as needed. Ona leaf pasted in the front of the book was written:

 To Walter Pieterse as a Reward for Excellent recitations in the Noorderkerk and as an Encouragement for him to continue to Honor God in the manner in which he has begun. 

Under this were the names of the preacher and the officers of thechurch, ornamented with flourishes that would have put Pennewipto shame. 

The outward respectability of the Hallemans continued to increase. Theparents of these children had hired a garden on the "Overtoom. " Thatwas so "far out, " they said; and then they "couldn't stay in thecity forever. " Besides, the expense was "not so much"; for there wasone gardener for everybody; and then, there were plenty of berriesgrowing there, and that was always very nice. There would be grassenough for bleaching the linen--an important item, for just lately, said the mother of the Hallemans, there had been iron-rust in Betty'sdress. For that reason it was the very thing to rent the garden;and if people said anything about it, it would only be because theywere jealous. And, too, there was a barrel there for rainwater; andMrs. Karels had said it leaked, but it was not true; for everyonemust know what he's doing; but when you do anything, everybodyis talking about it. If one paid any attention to it, one wouldnever get anything done--and it would be such a recreation for thechildren. Juffrouw Karels ought to attend to her own business--andwhen Gustave's birthday came, he might invite some "young gentlemen. "

Gustave's birthday came. "Young gentlemen" were to be invited, and--Walter was among that select number. 

It would lead me too far from the subject to enter upon aninvestigation of the motives that prompted Gustave and Franz to invitetheir former partner in the peppermint business. The list was made outand approved by their mother; and as Juffrouw Pieterse felt flattered, there was no objection from her side. Walter must promise, of course, to behave properly and be "respectable, " not to soil his clothes, notto wrestle and tear his clothes, and many other things of a similarnature. Juffrouw Pieterse added that it was a great favor on her partto let him go, for such visits made a lot of work for her. 

Yes, Walter was to make a visit! Eat, drink and enjoy himself undera strange roof. It was a great event in his life, and already hewas becoming less jealous of the Jews, who went away so often, andfinally never came back home at all. 

It was midday now--that glorious midday. With indescribable dignity, for a boy, Walter stepped through the gate-way. "A little to right--tothe left, to the left again, then over a bridge, and then to theright straight ahead. You can't miss it, " Gustave had said. The nameof the garden was "City Rest, " so all Walter had to do was to "ask, "and he would "find it. "

And so it was. 

Anyone making a call or visit for the first time always arrives tooearly. So it was with Walter, who reached City Rest before any of theother guests. But the boys received him cordially and presented himto their mother, who said that Walter had a pretty face, if it wereonly not so pale. 

The other playmates came then, and running and throwing began, inthe customary boyish style. This was interrupted with waffles andlemonade, which they "must drink quite slowly, " because they were"wet with perspiration. "

When the proud mother of the Hallemans was speaking of berries andthe grossly slandered rainwater barrel, she might have mentionedthe advantages of the leafy bower, where Betty was now sitting witha gentleman. 

"Who is that?" asked Walter of little Emma, who was playing withthe boys. 

"That? That's Betty's sweetheart. "

From that touching story of slender Cecilia we know that Walter alreadyhad his first love affair behind him; but still Emma's statement wasto him something new. Up to that time he had thought that a sweetheartwas a girl to whom one gives slatepencils and bonbons. But she seemedto be above such things. Walter saw immediately that he had not takenthe right course with Cecilia; and all at once a desire came overhim to know how a grown man treats a girl who is through school. 

"Her sweetheart?"

"Oh yes--engagé!"

That word was too modern for Walter. If the reader is sharp he cancalculate in what year that girl married the barber's apprentice. Allthat is necessary is to determine when that stupid engagé came intouse in this sense in "III. 7, a. "

"What did you say?" asked Walter. 

"Engagé--they go together. "

"What is that?"

"Oh, they're going to get married. Don't you know?"

Walter was ashamed not to know such a simple thing; and, as is oftenthe case, he was ashamed of being ashamed. 

"Certainly, of course I know. I hadn't understood rightwell. Emma--will you marry me?"

For the moment Emma was unable to accommodate him, as she was engagéwith her mother; but as soon as she was free she would considerthe matter, and Walter would probably be favored. She looked at himsweetly--and then the game called her to another part of the yard. 

Love is the instinct for unity--and the instinct for multiplicity. Aseverywhere, nature is simple here in principle, but manifold inapplication. The love of a thief means: Come, we will go stealtogether. The servant of the Word unites with his loved one in prayerand psalm, etc. , every animal after his kind. 

Or is this instinct to share, to be together, to be united at thesame the instinct for the good?

In Walter's case it was, even though he himself did not know it. Hadhe not, in the name of Cecilia, liberated a bird that fluttered aboutits narrow cage in distress? Of course Cecilia had laughed and askedWalter if he was crazy. She did not know that there was any connectionbetween his sympathy for the poor little bird and the beating of hisheart when he scratched her name on the frozen window-pane in theback room. Perhaps she would have understood if she had loved Walter;but that was impossible, because he still wore his jacket stuffed inhis trousers. 

At all events, it was not possible for him to think of anything badwhen he called "Omicron. " He had now forgotten Cecilia, and wouldhave been greatly surprised if she had appeared in answer to hiscall. Little Emma would have come nearer meeting his requirements. 

Walter felt that he must know just how the young man was proceedingwith Betty in the bower. He soon found an excuse to separate himselffrom his companions; and then he heard all sorts of things that didnot make him much wiser. 

"Yes, I said so too. In May----"

"Certainly, on account of the top story----"

"It's annoying! And what does your mother say?"

"Hm--she says we must wait another year, that it isn't respectableto get married in such a hurry--it's just as if----"

"Four years----"

"Yes, four years. Louw and Anna have been engaged for seven. "

Walter was proud that he knew exactly what it all meant. To rentan upper story together, preferably in May!--that was the way heunderstood it. 

"And do you get that press for the linen?"

"No, mother wants to keep it. But if we will only wait a year shewill give us another one--a small one. "

"The big one would have been nicer. "

"I think so too, but she says young people don't need a big press. Butwhen my sister was married she got a big one. "

"Tell them you want a big one too. "

"It's no use. "

"Try it. I won't marry without that big one. "

"I will make them----"

This is a fair sample of what Walter overheard. He was dissatisfiedand slipped away and hid himself, lost in thought. He didn't even knowhimself what was the matter with him; but when Emma came and calledhim he looked as if he had been thinking of anything else but pressesand vacant flats, for in a tone at once joyous and fearful he cried:

"Could it be she--my little sister?"

It was evening now, and the children were to continue their gamesindoors. As the little party was tired, one of the grown-ups wasgoing to tell a story. 

Just what "grown-up" had been requisitioned to narrate the story ofParadise and Peri, I don't know. Anyway the story hardly harmonizedwith Betty's engagement and that love-obstructing clothes-press. Butjust as Fortune is said to smile on everyone once in a lifetime, so, in the midst of the flatness and insipidity of everyday life, it seemsthat something always happens which gives that one who lays hold of itopportunity to lift himself above the ordinary and commonplace. To thedrowning man a voice calls: "Stretch out thy arms, thou canst swim. "

"After Peri had begged long, but in vain, at the gates of paradise tobe admitted to the land of the blessed, she brought at last, as themost beautiful thing in the world, the sigh of a repentant sinner;and she found favor with the keeper of the gate on account of thesacredness of the gift she had brought----"

"Let's play forfeits now!" cried Gustave. 

"Forfeits! Forfeits!" everybody called out after him. 

And they played forfeits. Pawns were redeemed; and of course therewas some kissing done. Riddles were given that nobody could guess;and who ever knew must not tell--a usual condition in this game. 

"Heavy, heavy hangs over your head; what shall the owner do topossess it?"

"Stand on one leg for five minutes. "

"Let him jump over a straw--or recite a poem!"

"No, a fable--la cigale, or something like that. "

"Yes, yes!"

It was Walter's pawn. 

"I don't know any fable, " he said, embarrassed; "and I don't knowFrench either. "

"I will help you, " cried Emma. "Le pere, du pere----"

"That's no fable! Go ahead, Walter!"

For some of the party it was a joy that Walter knew no Fable and noFrench. If it were only known how often one can do a kindness by beingstupid, perhaps many, out of love for humanity, would affect stupidity. 

But Walter did not think of the pleasure of the others--which hecould not have understood. He wept, and was angry at Master Pennewip, who had taught him no French and no fable. 

"Forward, Walter, forward!" insisted the holder of the pawn. 

"It needn't be French. Just tell a fable. "

"But I don't know what a fable is. "

"Oh, it's a story with animals. "

"Yes, or with trees! Le chêne un jour dit au roseau--don't you see, you can have one without animals. "

"Yes, yes, a fable is just a story--nothing else. You can have in itanything you want to. "

"But it must rhyme!"

Walter was thinking about reciting his robber song, but fortunatelyhe reconsidered the matter. That would have been scandalous in thehome of the Hallemans, who were so particularly respectable. 

"No, " cried another, who was again wiser than all the rest, "it needn'trhyme. The cow gives milk--Jack saw the plums hanging--Prince Williamthe First was a great thinker. Don't you see, Walter, it's as easyas rolling off of a log. Go ahead and tell something, or else youwon't get your pawn. "

Walter began. 

"A little boy died once who was not allowed to go to heaven----"

"Oho! That's the story of Peri. Tell something else. "

"I was going to change it, " said Walter, embarrassed. "And so thelittle boy couldn't enter the heavenly gates, because he didn't knowFrench, and because he had sometimes been bad, and because he hadn'tlearned his lessons, and also because he--because he"----I believeWalter had something on the end of his tongue about his mother'sbox of savings, but he swallowed it, that he might not offend theHallemans by any allusion to the peppermint business--"because heonce laughed during prayers. For it is certain, boys, that if youlaugh during prayers you'll never get to heaven. "

"So--o-oo?" asked several, conscious of their guilt. 

"Yes, they can't go to heaven. Now the boy had had a sister, who diedone year before him. He had loved her a lot, and when he died he beganto hunt for his sister right away. 'Who is your sister?' he was asked. "

"Who asked him that?"

"Be still! Don't interrupt him. Let Walter tell his story!"

"I don't know who asked that. The boy said that his little sisterhad on a blue dress and had dimples in her cheeks, and----"

"Just like Emma!"

"Yes, exactly like Emma. They told him that there was a little girlin heaven that looked just like that. She had come the year before, and had asked them to let her brother in, who would certainly inquireafter her. But the boy could not go in. I have already said why. "

"Had the little girl always learned her lessons?"

"Of course! Don't you see she had? Let Walter go on with his story!"

"It was sad that he could not get to see his sister any more. He feltthat it hadn't really been worth the trouble to die. 'Oh, just letme in!' he begged the gentleman at the door----"

"At the gate!" corrected several simultaneously, who, though untouchedby the sublimity of Walter's conception of death, were offended by thecommonplaceness of the word door. But such things happen frequently. 

"All right!" said Walter. He was ashamed that he had offended againstpropriety. "The gentleman at the gate said, 'No!' and then the poorboy returned to the earth. "

"That won't do, " cried the philosophical contingency, "whoever isdead remains dead. "

"Don't interrupt him. Of course it's only a story!"

Walter continued: "He returned to the earth and learned French. Thenhe appeared at the gate again and said, 'Oui, Monsieur!' but it didno good; he was not admitted. "

"I should think not; he ought to have said: 'j'aime, tu aimes. '"

"I don't know anything about that, " Walter replied. 

"Then he went to the earth again and learned his lessons till hecould say them backwards. He did this for the keeper of the gate;but all this did no good; he was not allowed to go in. "

"Of course not, " cried one of the wise ones, "to get to heaven youmust be confirmed. Had he been confirmed?"

"No. That's the reason it was so difficult. Then he tried somethingelse. He said that he was engaged to his sister. "

"Just like Betty, " cried Emma. 

"Yes, like Betty--and that he loved her and wanted to marry her. Butit was all of no use; they wouldn't let him into heaven. 

"Finally he didn't dare go to the gate any more, for fear the keeperwould get angry at him. "

"And then? What happened?"

"I don't know, " Walter stuttered. "I don't know what he ought to doto get to heaven. "

Walter knew the rest of the story very well, but he couldn't put itinto words. This was shown in a peculiar manner an hour later. 

On the way home the party was almost run over by a wagon just asthey were crossing a bridge. In the commotion Emma slipped under therailing and fell into the stream. Somebody screamed, and Walter sprangafter her. 

If he had died at that moment the keeper of the gate would hardlyhave turned him away because he didn't know French and had not beenconfirmed. 

When he was brought home, wet and dirty, Juffrouw Pieterse said thatone ought not to tempt the Master, and that's what one did when onejumped into the water without being able to swim. 

But I find that the man who can't swim is the very one to expectsomething of the Master; for the man who can swim has some prospectof helping himself. 

And Juffrouw Pieterse complained that there was "always somethingthe matter with that boy. " There was something the matter with him. 

CHAPTER XIV

Juffrouw Pieterse must have inherited something, for all at once thePieterses moved to a more respectable neighborhood, and the daughtersno longer knew any of the girls that they used to sew with. Such thingsdo happen in cases of inheritance, when one moves to a more selectquarter. Besides, there were other signs. They exerted themselves intrying to get Leentje to speak "better Dutch. " Stoffel was zealousin teaching her, but Juffrouw Pieterse spoiled everything by herbad example. 

Walter was now wearing a new jacket, with a small collar, such ascabmen wore later. For him a jacket to stuff in the trousers was athing of the past. It "looked so babyish, " the young ladies said, and was "out of the question now when the boy can write poetry. "

That Walter could write poetry was boasted of to everybody thatwould listen. Under the circumstances they really had no right toreap any fame from Walter's robber song; but this only showed what animportant rôle vanity plays in the world. Of course he himself neverheard anything of this; it was mentioned only when he was not present. 

The image of Cecilia had disappeared from Walter's heart; and littleEmma was forgotten. Omicron must show her face in the stars from timeto time to remind the child of his love. And even when he looked atthe evening sky and his soul was stirred by an inexpressible longingafter the good, it was not so much that he was thinking of Omicronas that he was moved by vague sweet memories. In the twelve years ofhis life there was a mythical prehistoric period which was difficultto separate from the historical period. 

He didn't know that he could write verses. He accepted it as a matterof course that his robber song was very poor, and looked upon Klaasjevan der Gracht with awe. It was from Juffrouw Laps he learned thathe could write poetry; and it was an illumination for him. 

Juffrouw Laps had an uncle whose birthday was coming the next week. Shehad paid the Pieterses a swell visit to ask if Walter wouldn't writeher a poem for the occasion. She would see that he got some bonbons. 

"But Juffrouw Pieterse, you must tell him that it must be religiousand that my uncle is a widower. He must bring that in. I should likefor it to be in the melody of the 103d psalm, for my uncle has thatpsalm in his lyre. "

The reader will note that she did not mean the lyre of Apollo. Whatshe spoke of was a thing that turned, and made a screechy noise. 

Juffrouw Pieterse was going to speak with Walter about it when he camefrom school, but first she had to consider the matter with Stoffel, to decide whether it should be a request or a command, so that Walterwould have no reason to be "stuck-up. " For that she could not endurein a child. 

"Walter, did you know your lesson?"

"No, mother; I had to learn thirteen mountains in Asia, and I knewonly nine. "

"Now, look here, that won't do. I'm paying tuition for nothing. Do youthink money grows on my back? I don't know what's to become of you. "

"I don't know, either. "

After all, though, Walter was flattered by the commission to writea poem. Stoffel's and Juffrouw Pieterse's efforts to conceal theirreal opinion of his poetical talents had been useless. It was apleasant surprise for the boy to learn that he was looked up to. Hehad always heard that he was worse than worthless, and that he wouldnever amount to anything. It interested him now to hear the assuranceof his mother and Stoffel that the commission was only a punishment fornot knowing the mountains in Asia. In a great rush Stoffel taught himthe difference between "masculine" and "feminine" verses, explainingthat these must alternate, that all must be of the same length, andthat if at any time the boy was in doubt he would clear the matter up, etc. , etc. 

Walter was delighted. He went to the back room, got a slate penciland began to write. It could hardly be called a success. "A widowerof God"--"O God, a widower!" That was as far as he got. 

He gnawed on the pencil till he had pulverized it and worn out histeeth, but it wouldn't go. He was continually being interruptedby Stoffel's masculine and feminine verses. He had been too proud, and now he was receiving his punishment. He began to believe thathis mother was right when she said nothing would ever come of him. 

Nor could Leentje help him. So he determined to make another attemptto-morrow. Perhaps he could do better then. Leentje agreed with him. 

"All right, " said Juffrouw Pieterse. "But don't disgrace usall. Remember, I told Juffrouw Laps you could do it; and the man'sbirthday comes Thursday week. So you haven't any too much time. "

Walter went to Ash Gate, found his bridge and began to weep bitterly. 

"See what's the matter with that boy, " he heard a woman saying to agirl fourteen or fifteen years old. "Perhaps he has lost something. "

"Have you lost anything?"

Walter looked up, and was surprised; for he seemed to have seen thatface before. It reminded him of Fancy. 

"Now, everything will be all right There you are; and I have beenhunting for you. "

"For me?"

"Yes, yes, but I just didn't know it. But I know it now. Tell meright quick how to write the poem!"

The girl, who was helping her mother place the linen on the grass forbleaching, looked at Walter in astonishment. She hurried back to hermother to say that she didn't know what was the matter with the boy, but that there was certainly something wrong. "He looks as if he werescared half to death, " she decided. 

Then she ran and fetched water from the house near by and made Walterdrink. He saw that he had made a mistake; but there was something inthe manner of the girl that drew him to her irresistibly, even thoughher name was only Femke. So the mother addressed her. And this namereminded him of Fancy, which was something. 

Femke pointed to an inverted basket and told him to tell the cause ofhis trouble; and Walter did it as well as he could, while the motherwas busy with the linen. 

"Maybe I can help you, " the mother said. "I have a nephew who isa widower. "

"Yes, Juffrouw--but the poem? And there must be something about Godin it. "

"Certainly. It's a long story. His wife was a niece of myhusband's--you see we are Catholics, and she acted according toher religion--put a stone on those cloths, Femke, or they'll blowaway--yes, bleaching is a job. You have no idea what a botherit is--yes, she acted according to her religion; and that wasright. People that don't do that are not much. But he--draw thatshirt back a little, Femke. The sleeve is hanging in the ditch--buthe didn't believe in it, and said it was all nonsense. But when shedied, and he saw all that was done for her--it was Father Jansen whowas there. Of course you know him--he always walks with a black cane, but he never lets it touch the ground----"

The women looked at Walter questioningly. The poor boy sat on thebasket, his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands. He had listenedwith open mouth, wondering how he was going to apply it all to hispoem. Of Father Jansen and that cane which despised the ground hehad never heard. This he had to confess. 

"Yes, it was Father Jansen who was there, and when my husband's nephewsaw all that--don't spill any, Femke, or the mud will splatter sobad--yes, when he saw that a human being doesn't die like an animal, then he was more respectful, and after that he observed Easter likeother people. And last year when he broke his leg--he's a dyer, you know--he drew thirteen stivers for nine weeks. And so I wantedto tell you that there's a widower in our family. And now you mustget up, for I need the basket. "

Walter arose quickly, as if he feared he might seem to be trespassing;and the woman went away, after having warned Femke to watch the linenand call her if any bad boys should come along. 

"Are you better now?" Femke asked kindly. 

"Oh yes; but I don't see how I'm to use all that in my poem. Youmust remember that it has to rhyme, and the verses must be of thesame length, and that they must be masculine and feminine; for mybrother said so, and he's a school-teacher. "

Femke reflected, then all at once she cried, "Do you know Latin?" Asif Latin would help Walter. 

"No, " disconsolately. 

"Well, it really makes no difference. It's in Dutch, too. Just watchthe linen a minute. "

Walter promised, and Femke ran to the house. 

Then some boys came along throwing rocks. Walter, conscious of hisresponsibility, called to them to desist--or words to that effect. Thisonly made them worse. They came closer, and, to worry Walter, began towalk over the linen. For him it was as if they were mistreating Femke, and he charged on the miscreants. But it was two against one, and aweaker one at that; so he would have soon been defeated if his lady hadnot returned quickly. She rescued him and drove off his assailants; andwhen she saw that his lip was bleeding she gave him a kiss. The boy'sheart trembled; all at once his soul was lifted to an unfamiliar level;and for the first time in weeks he felt again that princely naturethat had given Leentje such a fright. His eyes shone, and the boy, who but a moment ago did not know how he was to write some rhymes, was filled with the feelings and emotions that make poets of men. 

"O Fancy, Fancy, to die for thee--to die with such a kiss on the lips!"

It hurt him to think that the boys were gone. If there had been tenof them he would have had courage for the unequal fight. 

And Femke, who had never heard of poetical overflows, understood himimmediately, for she was a pure, innocent girl. She felt Walter'schivalry, and knew that she was the lady to reward it. 

"You are a dear sweet boy, " she said, taking his head between herhands and kissing him again, and again--as if she had done somethingof this kind before. But such was not the case. 

"And now you must read the verses in the little book. Maybe it willhelp you to write for your aunt----"

"She isn't my aunt, " Walter said, "but of course I will look throughthe book. "

He laid it on the railing of the bridge and began to read. Femke, who was taller than he, had put one arm around his neck, while withthe other hand she was pointing out what he should read. 

"Don't you see?" she said, "the lines are the same length. "

"Yes, but they don't rhyme. " And Walter read:

 Mother most pure, Mother undefiled, Virgin most powerful, Virgin most merciful, Virgin most faithful, Spiritual vessel, Vessel of honor, Vessel of singular devotion, Mystical rose, Tower of David, Tower of Ivory, Gate of Heaven----

"But, Femke, how am I to use that for my poem? I don't understandany of it. "

Femke didn't understand much of it either. She had been reading thebook every day for the past four or five years, and she had always beensatisfied with her comprehension of it. But now she saw that she wasas ignorant about it as Walter. She was ashamed and closed the book. 

"But don't you know what Faith is?" she asked, as if this defectmight account for the general ignorance of both. 

"Not that way, " Walter replied. "I learned it another way. "

"But you believe in Jesus, don't you?"

"Oh, yes. That's God's son. But I didn't learn anything about vesselsand towers. Do they belong to faith?"

"Why, certainly! But you know the holy virgin, Maria!"

"So? Maria? No, I don't. "

"And Purgatory?"

"I don't know anything about it. "

"And confession?"

"No. "

"What do you do then?"

"How do you mean, Femke?"

"I mean to be saved. "

"I don't know, " Walter replied. "You mean, to get to heaven?"

"Why, certainly. That's the point. And you can't do that without theholy virgin and such a book. Shall I teach you the creed, Walter? Thenwe'll be together in heaven. "

That pleased Walter, and Femke and Walter began:

"God created the world----"

"What did he do before that, Femke?"

"I don't know. But the people were made wicked by a snake; then thePope pronounced a curse upon the snake, for the Pope lives in Rome, you know. And then Jesus was crucified to make the people goodagain. That was a long time ago. "

"Yes, I know, " Walter said, "Jesus changed the number of the year. Athis birth he began at nought. "

Femke didn't know again. In this way each supplemented the knowledgeof the other; and Walter was proud that he knew something about thecreed, even if Femke did think it the wrong creed. 

"And so Jesus made the people good again, and if you will pray outof such a book you will be saved. Do you understand, Walter?"

"Not quite. What is an ivory tower?"

"Why, that's only a name for the virgin. It's as if you were to callthe pastor father. Now you understand. "

Femke hunted for another illustration. 

"You have a mother; what do you call her?"

"Why, I call her mother. "

"Correct. What do the other people call her?"

"They call her Juffrouw Pieterse. "

"Just so. When we call the holy virgin 'ivory tower' it's just likecalling your mother Juffrouw Pieterse. Ivory gate means that to getto heaven we must go through the holy virgin. That's the main thing. "

"But, Femke, what is a virgin?"

Femke blushed. 

"That is anybody that has never had a child. "

"Me?" asked Walter in astonishment. 

"No, child, it must be a girl!"

"Are you a virgin?"

"Of course!"

Femke spoke the unvarnished truth. 

"Of course--because I'm not married. "

"But Maria was married--and Jesus was her child. "

"Ah, that's where the holiness comes in, " replied Femke. "And for thatreason she is called the ivory gate. Do you understand now, Walter?"

Walter did not understand; but he asked permission to take the bookhome with him, that he might study it. That, however, was not possible, as Femke needed the book every day. Walter consoled himself easily, for not for anything in the world would he have endangered Femke'ssalvation. Femke asked him to come again. She would be glad to tellhim all she knew about the matter; and, if both should get tangled up, she would ask Father Jansen about it. And then Walter would soon beas wise as she was. 

Walter withdrew; i. E. , after he had kissed Femke heartily. Thismeeting with her, the mysterious book, salvation, the fight with theboys--all these things would run through his mind whenever he triedto think of the poem. It seemed to him that there was some connectionbetween them. 

When he got home he turned through Stoffel's books, hoping to findsomething about holy vessels, ivory towers, and immaculate virgins. Butthey were all school books, and gave information about everythingelse but salvation. Walter was crushed, but he was still searching. 

"Master Pennewip had a father and mother; and certainly old Pennewip, too, who slaughtered hogs; and the one before him, too--but who was thefirst Pennewip? And who slaughtered the hogs before old Pennewip? Andbefore there were any hogs, what did butchers do? And----"

I will know all of that some day, Walter thought. If he could have onlyquieted himself so well about his poem! If that were only written, hethought, then he would clear up the lost causes of everything. In themeanwhile he dreamed of Femke, of her blue eyes, her friendliness, her soft lips--and of her voice, when she said, "You are a dear, sweet boy. "

Could it be that she is Omicron? he thought. 

And thus the child dreamed, dreamed; and, just as in the developmentof humanity, in his life was working a three-fold impulse, towardslove, knowledge, and conflict. 

"But Walter, don't you read any books at home about the creed?"

Thus Femke questioned her little friend the next day, as he sat onher basket again. 

"Yes, but they're not pretty. "

"Don't you know anything by heart?"

Walter repeated a stanza of a reformed church hymn. This found nofavor with Femke; though she liked his reciting. 

"Don't you read anything else?"

Walter reflected: he flew through Stoffel's library--works of thePoetical Society, Geology by Ippel, On Orthography, Regulationsfor the Fire-Watch, Story of Joseph by Hulshoff, Brave Henry, JacobAmong His Children, Sermons by Hellendoorn, A Catechism by the same, Hoorn's Song-book. 

He felt that all of this would not prove very imposing forFemke. Finally:

"I do know something, but it isn't about faith and the creed. It'sabout Glorioso. "

Femke promised to listen, and he began to relate the story. At firsthe spoke mechanically, using all the "and then's": but soon he puthimself into the soul of the hero and told the story better than hehad read it in the greasy book. At every deed of Glorioso he wouldspring from the basket and act the part of that hero in a way thatmade Femke's blood run cold. Still, how magnificent she found it! Andwhen at last he was through, a spark from his peculiar but sincereenthusiasm had fallen into her heart, which like his beat with delightover the beauty of what she had heard. Her cheeks glowed--really, if a Treckschent had started to Italy at that moment I believe shewould have gone along, in order to take part in so much danger andadventure--and love. The nicest thing about the story was that itshowed how firm such a robber is in the faith. 

"Don't you know another story?"

"Yes, " said Walter. "One more. It's in a little book--a calendar, I believe. "

And he related the story of Telasco and Kusco and the beautifulAztalpa. 

Telasco and Kusco, sons of the King of the Sun-worshipers, weretwins; and so both were equally near the throne. They loved each otherdevotedly; so which would give way for the other? Which of the two wasto become Inca? Funeral pyres were built, one for each, and prayerswere offered to the sun that one of the piles might be ignited. But thesun did not light either. He ordered that Aztalpa, the sister, shouldchoose one. That one to whom she offered her hand should inherit thethrone and the empire. But the princess could not decide, for sheloved them both dearly and both equally. It was then decided thatboth should go out hunting on a certain morning, and that the one whokilled the first doe should become king. Telasco had red arrows, Kuscoblue. The morning came. The brothers were lying in a thicket as thedeer approached. Both fired, and both missed. Then they swore mutuallynot to miss intentionally the next time. They kept the oath, and twodeer fell; but Telasco had shot one of Kusco's arrows, and Kusco oneof Telasco's. Telasco then proposed that Aztalpa should be killed, to avoid any discord in the empire; and in the other world both wouldenjoy the same place in her affections. All agreed to this; but whenthe fatal day came, Aztalpa fell on her knees before Telasco and beggedthat she might receive her death at the hand of Kusco. Telasco cried:"Aztalpa, you have chosen!" All bowed down before Kusco; and whenthey looked for Telasco he had disappeared. He was never seen again. 

Often Femke interrupted with questions, for there was much that wasstrange and wonderful to her; but she was charmed with the story andshared all of Walter's enthusiasm. 

"I tell you, though, Walter, if that girl had known what Telasco wasup to she wouldn't have done it. But the story is beautiful. I wonderif such things really happen. "

"That was far from here, Femke, and a long time ago. That's just theway it was in the book. But now I must go home, for I haven't a stiverto pay the gate-keeper if I come in after eight. Oh, Femke--if I wereonly through with that poetry business. "

"It will turn out all right. Just think of Telasco. He had a difficulttask, too. "

"No! I will think of the girl. Good-evening, Femke----"

Walter received the hearty kiss that his story had earned him, anddreaming of Aztalpa, who was guarding the linen, he passed throughthe Ash Gate and turned towards home. The moon shone so brightly thathe was annoyed not to have been able to remain with Femke. How muchbetter, he thought, could he have told his story by moonlight! Buthe didn't have the price--a stiver. 

CHAPTER XV

The moon paused on the sky, as if she were weary of her lonelylot. Was she grieved because ungrateful humanity had fallen asleepand was ignoring her?--or because of the light borrowed from herfor thousands of years, and none returned? She poured forth hersorrow in heart-breaking noiseless elegies till the night-wind wasmoved to pity. Whish! he went through the trees; and the leavesdanced. Crash! he went over the roof; and the tiles flew away, andchimneys bowed meekly; and over the walls and ditches the sawmillsdanced with the logs they were to saw. There a girl sat sleeping. Couldit be Femke? The linen danced about her to the music of the wind, theshirts making graceful bows and extending their sleeves. Nightcaps, dickeys and drawers danced the minuet; stockings, skirts, collars, handkerchiefs waltzed thicker and thicker around the sleeping girl. Hercurls began to flutter--a smile, a sigh, and she sprang to her feet. Awhirlwind caught her up and----

"O, heavens, Femke, Femke!" and Walter grasped at the apparition thatwas being borne away towards the moon in a cloud of stockings, socks, drawers, shirts and collars. 

"Mother! Walter's pinching me, " cried Laurens, the printer'sapprentice; and Juffrouw Pieterse groaned, that those boys couldn'teven keep quiet at night. 

The "House of Pieterse" gathered at Walter's bed. There was the noblemother of the family enveloped in a venerable jacket that fell in broadfolds over a black woolen skirt. There was Trudie, with her stupid blueeyes; and Myntje and Pietje--but what am I talking about? In the newhome Trudie had become Gertrude, like a morganatic princess in Hessia;and Myntje was now Mina, but preferred to be called Mine, as thatsounded more Frenchy. But her stupid face remained unchanged. Pietjewas now Pietro. Stoffel had said that was a very swell name. 

Stoffel, too, had now appeared on the scene, to the great astonishmentof his mother, who expected so much of him. This fine sense ofpropriety had been developed in the new home. 

"What's the matter with you, boy?" cried everybody at once. 

"Oh, mother, Femke--Femke!"

"The boy is foolish. " That was the unanimous verdict of the family. 

And they were not altogether wrong. Walter was delirious. 

"They are carrying her away--around and around--Daughter of the Sun, decide--here is Telasco--thou shalt die, Aztalpa--Femke, stay, stay, I will watch the clothes--I will shoot the doe--a widowerof God--together through the ivory gate--there she is again--stay, Omicron!"

"Ought we to call in a preacher?" asked Juffrouw Pietersehesitatingly. She didn't know whether praying was needed or awhipping--or both. 

And now, perhaps for the first time in his life, Stoffel expressed asensible thought: "Mother, we ought to have a doctor. Walter is sick. "

Walter had nervous fever. It was fortunate for him that a doctor wascalled in, and still more fortunate that it was a man who understoodWalter's mental troubles. He exerted a most wholesome influence onthe boy; though this came later, as at first he could only treatthe disease. 

On Juffrouw Pieterse, too, he had a good influence. To her greatastonishment, he explained to her that children ought not to bepacked together in a bed as if they were superfluous pieces offurniture being thrown aside; that air, light, play, enjoyment, exercise are all necessary for the development of body and soul;that whipping does no good, and that she had better dispense with her"divine worship. " He told her of other things she had never heard of;and she listened willingly, for the doctor----

"Ah, dear Juffrouw Laps, you must manage to be here when he comes. Hewrites the prescriptions with a gold pen; and his coachman wears abrown bear-skin cape. "

That gold pen and the bear-skin cape! Ah, if everyone who preachestruth could only dress up his coachman so swell! But alas, alas--Iknow a great many people who love the truth, and they have no coachmanat all--not to mention the bear-skin. 

And gold pens often get into the wrong hands. 

"I just wanted Juffrouw Zipperman to come sometime when the doctor'shere. Run and tell her, Gertrude, that I said Walter was sick, and say that we have lunch about twelve. He came about that timeyesterday. And Leentje, you go to the grocer's--we need salt--havesomething to say about it--it's not just to be gossiping, you know--Idespise gossip--but I would like to know if the people have noticedit. And you, Pietro, remember that you are to give me a clean capwhen he comes--for the doctor is such an elegant gentleman, and sucha doctor! And all that he said--I drank it all in. Mina, you mustn'tstare at him again like that; it's not proper. But I'm curious toknow if the people at the grocer's have seen him!"

I shouldn't like to be severe on her; but it seems to me that JuffrouwPieterse was gradually beginning to take pleasure in Walter's illness. 

There is something swell in having such a carriage standing beforeone's door. 

Juffrouw Laps had come: "But dear Juffrouw Pieterse, what am I to doabout my uncle? You are invited; and I have told him that there willbe a poem. "

"Very bad, Juffrouw Laps. You can see though that that poor wormcan't write the poem. What about Stoffel? Why not ask him to write it?"

"It's all right with me. Just so it's a poem; otherwise I'm disgraced. "

Stoffel was requested to take Walter's place, but he raised objectionsat once. 

"You don't know what that would mean, mother. I would lose the respectof the boys. For anyone working with youth, respect is the main thing;and such a poem----"

"But the boys at school need not know it. "

"But the man would tell somebody and then--you don't understand it. Atthe Diaconate school there was a fellow who wrote verses; and whathas become of him? He went to India, mother, and he still owes me forhalf a bottle of ink. That's the way it goes, mother. For me to writesuch a poem? No, no, mother--for a boy like Walter it's all right;but when one is already a teacher!"

"And Master Pennewip?" cried Juffrouw Laps. 

"The very man!" cried Stoffel, as if this supported his formerargument. "A happy thought! Master Pennewip will do it. "

"I've read a poem by him, Stoffel. "

"Yes, yes. And you've read a poem by him. That's because--but howshall I explain that to you, Juffrouw Laps? You know that in teachingthere are all kinds of things. Take Geography, for example. I will justmention one fact: Madrid is on the Manganares. Understand, mother?"

"Yes, yes, Stoffel. That's just as if you were to say----"

"Amsterdam on the Y. Exactly so. And then there are many, many morethings, Juffrouw Laps. You have no idea how much there is of it. Agrocer mixes sugar with something else. He must calculate exactlywhat he must get for a pound in order not to lose money. Think ofit! And then you have partnership, and breakage, and the verbs--butI must go before those rascals break everything. "

Stoffel returned to school earlier than usual, without havingdiminished Juffrouw Laps's difficulties very much. That poor womancould not comprehend how geography and Madrid and the grocer andpartnerships made it impossible for Stoffel to write verses. JuffrouwPieterse smoothed the matter over as well as she could and sentJuffrouw Laps to Master Pennewip. 

That gentleman was alarmed when he saw the angry "sucking animal, "but he quieted down as soon as he heard the object of her visit. 

"To what class does your uncle belong, Juffrouw?"

"Why, to the class--you mean the mussel-shells and eggs?"

"No, no, Juffrouw, I mean on which rung of the ladder is he--how highup. I repeat it, on what rung--it's a figure, Juffrouw--on what rungof the social ladder?"

"In the grain business? Is that what you mean?"

"That is not sufficient, Juffrouw Laps. One may be in the grainbusiness as a pastry cook, a baker, a retailer, a wholesaler, or as abroker; and all these vocations have their peculiar sub-divisions. TakeJoseph in Egypt, for example. This man of God, whom some place inthe class of patriarchs, while others claim--but let that be as itmay. It is certain that Joseph bought corn and was on the topmostrung of the ladder, for we read in Genesis, chapter 41----"

"Yes, indeed, he rode in Pharaoh's carriage, and he wore a white silkcoat. My uncle is an agent, and my father was the same. "

"So-o-oo? Agent! That's something Moses doesn't mention, and Idon't know in what class----" He spoke slowly, puzzling over his words. 

"Besides, my uncle is a widower. "

"Ah, there we have the difference! We read that Joseph wooed Asnath, the daughter of Potiphar; but nowhere do we read that his spouse wasalready dead when he went into the corn business. Therefore, JuffrouwLaps, if it is your earnest desire to have a pious poem written onyour uncle, I advise you to go to my pupil, Klaasje van der Gracht. "

He explained to her where that prodigy might be found. 

Again I must beg pardon if my criticism of Pennewip is too severe; buthe gave me reasons enough to harbor ugly suspicions against him. I amconvinced that he would have written that poem for Juffrouw Laps ifher uncle had received a white silk coat from the king, or had everdriven through The Hague in a royal carriage. But to sing an agent inverse! He would leave that to the genius of "the flying tea-kettle"in the Peperstraat. That was not nice of Pennewip. Was that uncleto blame because his brothers never threw him into a well? or soldhim into Egypt? Or because he couldn't interpret dreams? Or becausecleverness is not rewarded to-day with rings, white coats, carriagesand high official position?

Juffrouw Laps footed it over to the Peperstraat, where she madethe acquaintance of the elder van der Gracht. The old gentlemanfelt flattered. 

He was most gracious, and assured the Juffrouw that the poem shouldbe written that very evening. Klaasje could bring it over the nextmorning and repeat it to Juffrouw Laps, and if it were found worthyas an expression of her feelings toward her uncle, then Klaasje wasto be invited to be present on that evening. The father assured herthat Klaasje would wear a white stand-up collar. 

"Just like Joseph, " said the Juffrouw. "Everything is in the Bible. "

When she got home she read the forty-first chapter of Genesis, trying to find the relation of Klaasje's apotheosis to Joseph'sexaltation. That night she dreamed she had a mantle in her hand. 

CHAPTER XVI

It was the afternoon of the day on which Juffrouw Laps sought outKlaasje van der Gracht, and Walter was lying in bed, still weak butno longer delirious. The doctor had ordered rest and quiet. The childcounted the flowers in the curtain, and, in his imagination triedto arrange them in some other order. He allowed them to jump overone another, or flow into one another. He saw in them faces, forms, armies, clouds--and all were alive and moving. It was tiresome, buthe couldn't do anything else. If he turned his face toward the wallit was still worse. The hieroglyphic scratches on the wall told himall sorts of things that he didn't need to know and overwhelmed himwith unnecessary impressions. He closed his eyes; but still he foundno rest. It seemed to him as if he were being swept away to take partin that entertainment that the night-wind gave the moon. Everythingwas turning round and round, taking him along. He seized his head inboth hands, as if he would stop his imagination by main strength; butit was useless. The curtains, the cords, the wall, the flowers, thedance, the whirlwind that tore Femke away--his efforts to hold her----

The boy burst into tears. He knew that it was all imagination; heknew that he was sick; he knew that chimneys don't dance, and thatgirls are not blown to the moon; and yet----

Weeping he called Femke's name softly, not loud enough to be heardby the others, but loud enough to relieve his own depression. 

"What's that?" he cried suddenly. "Does she answer? Is thatimagination, too?"

Actually, Walter heard his name called, and it was Femke's voice!

"I must know whether I'm dreaming, or not, " he said, and straightenedhimself up in bed. "That is a red flower, that is a black one, I amWalter, Laurens is a printer's apprentice--everything is all right;and I'm not dreaming. "

He leaned out of bed and listened again, his mouth and eyes as wideopen as he could get them, as if the senses of taste and sight weregoing to reinforce that of hearing. 

"O, God! Femke's voice! Yes, yes, it is Femke!" He jumped out of bed, ran out the door, and half ran, half fell down the steps. 

To return to Femke for a little while. She had expected Walter atthe bridge the next day after the story of the sun-worshipers. Atfirst she thought that Walter was waiting till he could borrow fromStoffel the book with the picture showing Aztalpa embracing the twobrothers. She wanted to see Walter with the picture; now she would havebeen satisfied with him without the picture. It couldn't be the boy'sperson, she thought--such a child!--but he did recite so well. Perhapsin the heart of the girl Walter and his recitals had already coalesced. 

"Put the clothes in the sun, " cried her mother; and Femke translatedthat: Sun--Peru--Aztalpa--Kusco--Walter. 

"Run those fighters away; they'll throw dirt on the clothes. "

Femke dreamed: Courageously fighting against the enemies of thecountry--the noblest tribe of the Incas--Telasco--Walter. 

Everything seemed to be calling for Walter; but he did not come. 

The first day she was sad; the second, impatient; the third, restless. 

"Mother, I'm going to see what's become of the little boy who wasgoing to write a poem. "

"Do, my child!" said the mother. "Do you think you will find him?"

Femke nodded; but her nod was not convincing. She did not know whereWalter lived and was afraid to say so. It took courage to start out totrace the child when she didn't know where he lived; and this courageshe wished to conceal. And why? Just timidity incident to the tenderfeelings. Sometimes we conceal the good and boast of the bad. 

The girl dressed herself as prettily as she could and put all hermoney in her pocket. It was only a few stivers. She hurried throughAsh Gate and inquired where the shop was that lent books. Thus shecame directly to the Hartenstraat. She simply retraced the steps ofour hero, when he made that first sally with Glorioso. 

Less timid than Walter--Femke was older, and had had more experiencewith men--she asked the gruff fellow in a business-like way for"the book about the countess with the long train or her dress. "

"What? What's the title?"

"I don't know, " Femke said. "It's about a robber--and the Pope'smentioned in it, too. I am hunting for the boy who read the book. Iwanted to ask where he lives--I will pay you for your trouble. "

"Do you think I'm a fool? Am I here to hunt for boys?"

"But, M'neer, I will pay you, " the girl said, and laid the money onthe counter. 

"Oh, get on! What do I know about your boy?"

Femke got angry now. 

"I haven't done anything, and you can't run me off like that. No, you can't. If you don't want to tell me, you needn't to. You are anunaccommodating fellow!"

She was going to leave, when it occurred to her to ask, "And won'tyou lend me a book, either?"

"Yes, you can get a book. What do you want?"

"That book about the robber and Amalia, " said Femke. She felt now thatshe was a "customer, " and oh, how proud she had become all at once!

"I don't know anything about such a book. Do you mean RinaldoRinaldini?"

"No. Is there more than one robber book? Just call over the names ofthem for me. "

This was said with an air of importance that was not without its effecton the shopman. He pulled down the catalogue, and soon he came to"Glorioso. "

"That's it, that's it!" cried Femke, delighted. 

"But you must deposit a forfeit, " the man said, as he mounted theladder to get that precious book. 

"No, no, I don't want the book at all. I only want to know where theboy lives who read it. I will pay you gladly, " and she pointed toher money. 

"That isn't necessary, " he said. "I don't mind accommodating you whenyou ask me politely. "

He looked in the register and found the name Femke had mentioned, withthe address. He showed it to her, and was even going to explain to herthe best way to get there; but Femke was already out the door. Thefellow had difficulty in overtaking her to return the money she hadforgotten on the counter. 

When she reached the address given, Femke learned that the Pieterseshad moved to a "sweller neighborhood. " It was quite a distance away;but Femke was not deterred by that. 

Once at the Pieterses', she was received by the young ladies with arough, "What do you want?"

"Oh, Juffrouw, I wanted to ask about Walter. "

"Who are you?"

"I am Femke, Juffrouw, and my mother is a wash-woman. I would liketo know if Walter is all right. "

"What have you got to do with Walter?" asked Juffrouw Pieterse, who had heard the commotion and came down. 

"Ah, Juffrouw, don't be angry--I wanted to know; and my mother knowsthat I've come to ask. Walter told me about Telasco, and the girlthat was to die--oh, Juffrouw, tell me if he's sick! I cannot sleeptill I know. "

"That's none of your business. Go, I tell you! I don't want strangepeople standing around the door. "

"For mercy's sake, Juffrouw!" cried the girl, wringing her hands. 

"The girl's crazy. Put her out, Trudie, and slam the door!"

Trudie began to execute the order. Myntje and Pietje got ready tohelp her; but the child clung to the balustrade and held her ground. 

"Throw her out! The impudent thing!"

"Oh, Juffrouw, I'm not impudent. I will go. Just tell me whetherWalter is sick. Tell me, and I will go right now. Just tell me ifhe's sick--if, if he's going--to die. "

The poor child began to weep. Anybody else but those Pieterse womenwould have been touched at the sight. They were too far up the ladder. 

Plainer people, or nobler people would have understood Femke. Feeling, sympathy, is like the money in a gambling-place. It doesn't cometo everybody. There wenches and countesses sit side by side; merelyrespectable people, who sell shoes made in Paris, are not there. 

"I won't go!" cried Femke. "Oh, God! I won't go! I will know whetherthat child is sick!"

A door was heard opening above; and Walter came in sight. He tumbleddown the steps and fell unconscious at Femke's feet. 

"That boy!" groaned the old lady, while the girls stood as iftransfixed. Femke picked Walter up and carried him upstairs. Hisbed was pointed out to her, and she placed him in it. No one had thecourage to run her away when she took a chair by the bedside. If atthis moment the rights of the Pieterses and Femke had been voted upon, all the votes would have gone to Femke. 

She wept, and stammered "Don't be angry, Juffrouw; but I couldn'tsleep for thinking of him. "

CHAPTER XVII

The evening of the birthday party came. All of the Pieterses went, leaving Walter to be taken care of by Leentje. 

Juffrouw Laps was doing the honors. 

"A strange state of affairs, " said the birthday uncle. "And what didshe want?"

"Oh, goodness, M'neer, I don't know myself. I've told Gertrude ahundred times that it's too much for me. Just imagine to yourself--sucha thing issuing commands in my house! I told Mina to pitch her out. AndPietro said----"

"You ought to have seen me get hold of her, " croaked that brave youngwoman, showing a blue place on her hand. From this it might have beeninferred that Femke had had hold of Pietro. 

"Just wait till she comes again, " cried Gertrude, "and I will attendto her!"

"And what will I do for her?" said Mina significantly. 

Every one of them was ready for the fray. That is often the case. Ifthe vote had been taken now on moral worth, Femke would have beendefeated. 

"A common girl, M'neer!"

"Worse than common!"

"How did you get rid of her?"

"Ah, it wasn't easy. I said----"

"No, mother, I said----"

"No, it was I!"

"But it was I!"

Each one of them had said something. Everyone wanted to play theleading rôle in the interesting drama. 

"I would like to know where the young Mr. Van der Gracht is, " saidJuffrouw Laps. "Yes, uncle, it's a surprise----"

Juffrouw Pieterse did not like to be interrupted when she had somethingto tell. 

"And so we said--what did we say, Gertrude?"

"Mother, I said it was a disgrace. "

"Yes, I said so, too. Then that thing asked for cold water, andwhen we didn't get it quick enough for her, she ran and fetched itherself--just as if she were at home! She wet a cloth and put it onWalter's head. I was amazed at her insolence. When the child came toshe gave him a kiss! Think of it--and all of us standing there!"

"Yes, " cried the three daughters, "think of it--and us standing there!"

"Then she sat down in front of the bed again and talked to him. "

"Where can the young Mr. Van der Gracht be!" sighed JuffrouwLaps. "It's only because we have a little surprise, uncle. "

"And finally she went away like a princess!"

"Exactly like a princess, " testified the girls; and they did not knowthat they were telling the truth. 

"And she told Walter she would come again. But I just want to seeher do it!"

The door-bell rang. Juffrouw Laps arose; and the catechist van derGracht with his son walked into the room. Juffrouw Pieterse didn'tlike this; she felt that the star of her narration would pale in thelight of the poem Klaasje had brought with him. And even without apoem: such dignity, such a carriage, such manners, such a voice!

"Mynheer and Juffrouwen, may God bless you all this evening! Thisis my son Klaas, of whom you have heard, I suppose. He's too closekin to me for me to praise him; but you understand--when it's thefather--well, all blessings come from above. "

"Yes, uncle, it will be a surprise. "

"Yes, indeed, Juffrouw, a beautiful surprise. I congratulate thisgentleman on the happy return of his natal day. It puts me in themood of the psalmist--and I thank God--for Mynheer, everything comesfrom above, you know. "

"Take a seat. I thank you, " said the host, who understood that hehad been congratulated. "It's cold out, isn't it?"

"Yes, a little cool; hardly cold. It's just what we call cool, youunderstand. The Master gives us weather as he sees fit; and for thatreason I say cool. Everything comes from above. "

To this last statement all assented in audible sighs and thoughtthemselves pious. What would have happened to him if some poor devilhad announced to them that some things come from below?

"And now, uncle, what do you say? Shall we begin with the surprise?"

"Go ahead, niece; what have you got?"

"Oh, it's only a trifle, Mynheer, " put in the catechist. "My son isa poet. I don't praise him, because he's too close kin to me; buthe's a clever fellow--I can say that without bragging--for everythingcomes from above. No, I won't praise him--praise is for the Masteralone. But he's a clever fellow. "

The poet Klaas looked conscious, and sat toying with the bottom buttonon his vest. He looked poetical all over. 

"And so, Mynheer, without bragging--get it out, my son. As a father, Mynheer, I may say that he's a clever fellow; for in the Bible----"

Klaasje drew a piece of paper from his pocket. 

"In the Bible there is really nothing said about widowers--the Masterhas his own good reasons for it--but what does the boy do? He takesthe hint and writes a whole poem on widows. "

Klaasje laid the paper on the table. 

"Yes, I dare say, he has brought into it all the widows mentioned inthe Bible. "

"You see it's a surprise. I told you so, " said Juffrouw Laps. 

"Read it, Klaasje! There are seventy, Mynheer, seventy widows. Read, my boy. "

Klaas pulled at his clothes, arranged his cuffs and began:

 "The widows that in the Bible appear, I've brought together in this poem here, For the birthday that we celebrate Of him who sadly lost his mate, Exalting always the Master of Love, For all that we have comes from above. "

"That's the prologue, " explained the father. 

"Yes, that's the prologue. Now I will read:

 "Genesis, 38, verse 11, it is said: At her father-in-law's must the widow have her bed. Exodus, 20, 22, it is penned: Widows and orphans thou shalt not offend. Two verses further he threatens, wrathful and grim To make widows of all the women that anger him. Leviticus, 21, verse 14, thou read'st That a widow won't do for the wife of a priest. A chapter further, one verse less, we have read, That a childless widow must eat her father's bread. From Numbers, 30, verse 10, we clearly infer, That a widow's vow is sufficient for her. "

In this style he continued glibly, without any interruption; but whenhe came to:

 "Second Samuel, 20, 3, very clearly outlines, That as widows must live David's concubines----"

Juffrouw Pieterse became restless and had to have an explanation. 

"Yes, Juffrouw, concubines, " said van der Gracht senior. "You seethe boy has brought in everything relating to widows. "

"The verses are not the same length, " Stoffel complained; and thereis no alternation of masculine and feminine lines. "

"You may be right, Stoffel, for you are a school-teacher; but that'simmaterial to me. These--these con--what shall I say----"

"Juffrouw Pieterse, you ought not to mock at it, " cried Juffrouw Laps. 

"That's right, " said the catechist, "all blessings come from above. Goahead, Klaas!"

"No, I will not hear such things--on account of my daughters!"

The girls were examining their finger nails, and looked preëminentlyrespectable. 

"Go ahead, Klaas!"

"If I had known that this was going to happen, I would have left mydaughters at home. "

"But, Juffrouw, it's in the Bible. You're not opposed to the Bible, are you?"

"No, but I refuse to hear anything that isn't respectable. Myhusband----"

"Your husband sold shoes. I know it, Juffrouw, but you're not goingto turn against----"

"I'm not going to do anything against the Bible, but I will not enduresuch coarseness. Come, Gertrude, come, children!"

Juffrouw Pieterse was climbing the ladder of respectability. Movingout of a side street into one of the principal avenues, giving thechildren French names, calling in a doctor whose coachman wearsfurs--that is what lifts us up. 

CHAPTER XVIII

Walter's illness now took a favorable turn. As soon as he wasstrong enough to leave his bed, the whole family noticed that hehad grown. All remarked about it and called each other's attention toit. No one was better convinced of the fact than Juffrouw Pieterse; for"that boy" had "outgrown all of his clothes, " and it would not be easy"to fit him out respectably again. " So much interesting notoriety andrespectability had been reaped from Walter's illness that it was onlynatural that his convalescence should be turned to the best account. 

The child would sit and fill in the colors in pictures. The doctorhad presented him the pictures and a box of colors. The latter, so Stoffel said, were the genuine English article. 

Oh, such pictures!

Walter was interested especially by pictures from the opera and thetragedy. There were pictures from Macbeth, Othello, Lear, Hamlet, from "The Magic Flute, " "The Barber of Seville, " "Der Freischütz, "and from still a few more--each one always more romantic than thelast. In selecting suitable colors for his heroes and heroines, Walterhad the advice of the entire family, including Leentje. Usually therewas disagreement, but that only made the matter more important. Inonly two details were they agreed: faces and hands were to haveflesh-color, and lips were to be painted red. It had always beenthat way; otherwise, why was it called flesh-color? On account ofthis arrangement Hamlet came off rather badly, receiving a much moreanimated countenance than was suited to his melancholy. 

"I wish I knew what the dolls mean, " said Walter. He was talkingabout his pictures. 

"It's only necessary to ask Stoffel, " his mother replied. "Wait tillhe comes from school. "

Walter asked him. Stoffel--there are more such people in theworld--would never admit that he did not know a thing; and he alwaysknew how to appear knowing. 

"What the dolls mean? Well, you see--those are, so to say, the picturesof various persons. There, for instance, the one with a crown on hishead--that is a king. "

"I told you Stoffel could explain them, " corroborated his mother. 

"Yes, but I should have liked to know what king, and what he did. "

"Well! There it is at the bottom. You can read it, can't you?"

"Macbeth?"

"Certainly. It's Macbeth, a famous king of ancient times. "

"And that one there with a sword in his hand?"

"Also a king, or a general, or a hero, or something of thekind--somebody that wants to fight. Perhaps David, or Saul, orAlexander the Great. That's not to be taken so exactly. "

"And the lady with the flowers? She seems to be tearing them up. "

"That one? Show her to me: Ophelia. Yes, that's Ophelia. Don'tyou know?"

"Yes. Why does she throw the leaves on the ground?"

"Why? why? The questions you do ask!"

Here the mother came to the rescue of her eldest son. 

"Yes, Walter, you mustn't ask more questions than anybody can answer. "

Walter did not ask any more questions, but he determined to get tothe bottom of the matter at the first opportunity. His imaginationroamed over immeasurable domains--such an insatiate conqueror wasthe little emperor Walter in his night-jacket!

He associated the heroes of his pictures with the doctor, who had beenso friendly to him, and with his immortal Glorioso. The Peruvian story, too, furnished a few subjects for his empire. He married Telasco toJuliet; and the priests of the sun got their rights again. MasterPennewip received a new wig, but of gold-colored threads, on themodel of the straw crown of a certain King Lear. Persons that hecould see from the window were numbered among his subjects. He hadto do something; and this foreign material was preferable to that inhis immediate surroundings. Even Lady Macbeth, who was washing herhands and not looking particularly pleasing, seemed to him to be ofa higher order than his mother or Juffrouw Laps. 

In fact, for him those pictures were the greatest things inthe world. He was carried away with the crowns, diadems, plumes, iron gratings over the faces, with the swords and the daggers withcross-hilts to swear on--with the trains and puff-sleeves and girdleswith pendents of gold--and the pages. All this had nothing in commonwith his everyday surroundings. How is it possible, he thought, thatanyone who has such beautiful pictures should sell them? The doctormust have inherited them!

Even if he had known that Lady Macbeth was the personification ofcrime, it would still have seemed to him a profanation to bring herinto contact with the plebeian commonness around him. 

All at once something in Ophelia's form reminded him of Femke. Shetoo could stand that way, plucking the petals from the flowers andstrewing them on the ground. 

He had dim recollections of what had happened, and occasionally hewould ask indifferently about "that girl. " He was afraid to speakher name before Gertrude, Mina, and Pietro. He was always answered intones that showed him that there was no room for his romance there;but he promised himself to visit her as soon as he got up. 

"When you're better you must go to see the doctor and thank himfor curing you--but thank God first; and then you can show him whatyou've painted. "

"Of course, mother! I will give her the Prince of Denmark--I mean him, the doctor. "

"But be careful not to soil it; and don't forget that the ghost of theold knight must be very pale. Stoffel said so--because it's a ghost, you see. "

"Yes, mother, I'll make it white. "

"Good. And you'll make the lady there yellow?" pointing with aknitting-needle to Ophelia. 

"No, no, " cried Walter quickly, "she was blue!"

"She was? Who was?"

"I only mean that I have so much yellow already, and I wanted to makeher--this one--Ophelia--I wanted to make her blue. That one washingher hands can stay yellow. "

"So far as I'm concerned, " the mother said, "but don't soil it!"

Stoffel, in the meantime, had got on the track of those pictures. Hewas slick and had an inquiring mind. One of his colleagues at school, who was in some way connected with the stage, told him that suchcostume-pictures were of great value to players. He also told himother things about these pictures and about the play in general. 

It was fortunate for Walter that Stoffel brought this knowledgehome with him. Even to-day there are people who find somethingimmoral in the words "Theatre" and "Player"; but at that time it wasstill worse. The satisfaction, however, of imparting knowledge andappearing wise put Stoffel in an attitude of mind on this occasionthat ordinarily would have been irreconcilable with that narrownesswhich with him took the place of conscience. 

"You see, mother, there are comedies and comedies. Some are sad, some funny. Some are all nonsense, and there's nothing to be learnedfrom them; but there are comedies so sad that the people wail whenthey see them--even respectable people!"

"Is it possible!"

"Yes, and then there are others where there's music and singing. Theyare nice, and moral too. They are called operas; and people whoare entirely respectable go there. You see, mother, there's nothingbad about it; and we ought not to be so narrow. The old Greeks hadcomedies, and our professors still study them. "

"Is it possible!"

"Walter's pictures are from real comedies; but I can't tell all thedetails now. I will only say there are good comedies. "

"You must tell Juffrouw Laps. She always says----"

"And what does she know about it? She never saw a comedy in her life. "

That was the truth; but it was just as true of the Pietersefamily--with the exception of Leentje. 

One afternoon Leentje had complained of a terrible headache andhad left off sewing and gone out. Later it was learned that she hadnot spent the evening with her mother; and then there was a perfectstorm. But Leentje would not say where she had been that night. "Thatnight" was Juffrouw Pieterse's expression, though she knew that thegirl was at home by eleven o'clock. Leentje betrayed nothing. Shehad promised the dressmaker next door not to say anything; for thedressmaker had to be very careful, because her husband was a hypocrite. 

In Leentje's work-box was found a mutilated program; and then one dayshe began to sing a song she had never sung before--"I'm full of honor, I'm full of honor; oh, yes, I'm a man of honor!"

And then it was all out! She had been to the Elandstraat and had seenthe famous Ivan Gras in a comedy!

Leentje began to cry and was going to promise never to do so again, when, to her amazement, she was told that there was nothing wrong init, and that even the greatest professors went to see comedies. 

And now she must tell them about it. 

It was "The Child of Love, " by Kotzebue, that had greeted herastonished eyes. 

"There was music, Juffrouw, and they played beautifully; and then thecurtain went up, and there was a great forest, and a woman wept undera tree. There was a Baron who made her son a prisoner, because he wasa hunter--but he spoke so nice, and his mother, too. The Baron saidhe was master on his place, and that he would punish such thieves. Hewas in a great rage. And then the mother said--no, somebody elsecame and said--but then the curtain went down. The dressmaker boughtwaffles that were being passed around, and we drank chocolate. Thedressmaker said that every day wasn't a feast day. A man sat behind usand explained everything and took our cups when they were empty. Thenthe band played, 'Pretty girls and pretty flowers. '"

"Shame!" cried the three young ladies. For it was a common street song. 

"And then the curtain went up again of its own accord; but thegentleman behind us said somebody raised it--perhaps the 'Child ofLove' himself, for he was not in prison when the curtain was down. Thedressmaker gave him a peppermint-drop, and he said: 'Watch the stage, Juffrouw, for you have paid to see it. ' It cost twelve stivers, without the waffles and chocolate. Then the Baron said--but I can'ttell it all exactly as it was. I will only say that the old womanwept all the time, and she could not be reconciled, because she was sounhappy. You see, Juffrouw, the child of love was her own child; and itwas also the Baron's child of love. That was bad--because it was justa child of love, you see; and that is always bad. He had no papers, no credentials; nor the mother, either. And he was to die because hehad hunted. Oh, it was beautiful, Juffrouw! And then the curtain wentdown again and we ate another waffle. The gentleman behind us said itwas well that they gave plays with prison scenes in them. There wereso many bad people in the hall, such as pickpockets and the like, and this would be a warning for them. The dressmaker was going tooffer him another mint-drop, when she saw that her box was gone. Itwas silver. The gentleman said of course some pickpocket had taken it. "

"He was the pickpocket!" exclaimed several. 

Leentje was indignant at the idea. 

"No, no! Don't say that; it's a sin. He was a very respectablegentleman, and addressed me as Juffrouw, just as he did thedressmaker. He tried to find the thief. He asked where the Juffrouwlived, and said that if he found the box he would bring it to her. Hewore a fancy vest--no, no, no. Don't say that of him!"

"Well, tell some more about the child of love. " All were interested. 

"Oh, the music was so nice! And a gentleman showed them with a stickhow to play. "

"But tell us about the comedy!"

"That is not so easy. It was very beautiful. It must be seen; it can'tbe told. The Baron saw that the hunter in prison was his own son;because a long time before, you see, that is--formerly, he had beenacquainted with--you understand----"

Poor Leentje turned as red as fire, and left her audience in atemporary suspense. 

"Yes, he had known the old woman formerly, and then they were goodfriends, and were often together--I will just tell it that way--andthey were to marry, but something came between them; and so--and--forthat reason the comedy was called the 'Child of Love. '"

Walter listened with as much interest as the others; but he was lessaffected than the girls, who sat quietly staring into space. Stoffelfelt called upon to say something. 

"That's it! He abused her chastity--that's the way it's spoken of--andshe was left to bear the disgrace. The youth of to-day cannot bewarned enough against this. How often have I told the boys at school!"

"Listen, Walter, and pay attention to what Stoffel says!"

Encouraged by the approval of his mother, Stoffel continued. 

"Yes, mother, virtue must be revered. That is God's will; and what Goddoes is well done. Of all sins sensual pleasure is--a very great sin, because it is forbidden; and because all sins are punished, eitherin this world or in the next. "

"Do you hear, Walter?"

"Here, or in the next world, mother! Innocent pleasure, yes; butsensual pleasure--it is forbidden! It loosens all the ties of humansociety. You see that such a comedy can be very fine. Only you mustunderstand it properly--that's the idea. "

"And what did the Baron do then?"

"Ah, Juffrouw, what shall I say! He talked a whole lot to the oldwoman, and was very sad because he had--away back there--becausehe had----"

"Seduced her, " added Stoffel, seeing that Leentje couldn't find theword. "That's what it's called. "

"Yes, that's what she said, too; and he promised never to do itagain. And then he told the child of love always to follow the pathof virtue, and that he would marry the old woman. She was satisfiedwith the arrangement. "

"I suppose so, " cried the three girls in a breath. "She will be arich baroness!"

"Yes, " said Leentje, "she became a great lady. And then the child oflove fell on the Baron's neck; and they played 'Bridal Wreath. ' The'Child of Love' became a hussar and sang, 'I'm full of honor, I'mfull of honor; Oh, I'm a man of honor!' I don't know what became ofthe old Baron. And then we went home; but the dressmaker took no morepleasure in the play now, because her silver box was gone. I don'tknow whether the gentleman ever brought it to her, or not. "

The play was out. 

The girls thought: "Baroness!"

Stoffel was thinking: "Virtue!"

The mother's thoughts ran: "Twelve stivers for a ticket, and wafflesand chocolate extra!"

Walter was saying to himself: "A hunter! A whole year in the forest, in the great forest, and alone. I'd like to do it, too. "

He took up his brush and looked at Ophelia: "To be alone in the greatforest with--Femke!"

But the theatre question was far from being settled. Leentje had toclear up many doubtful points yet. For instance, Pietro wanted toknow how old the woman was when the Baron finally married her. Leentjethought she must have been about sixty. 

Also Juffrouw Laps had to express her opinion. She declared that shewas opposed to everything "worldly, " and insisted that Walter be sentto church. 

Later she got into a big dispute over the theatre with MasterPennewip, whom Stoffel had brought in to reinforce his position. Hehad brought with him "Floris the Fifth, " that powerful comedy by thenoble Bilderdyk. With many declensions and conjugations and remarkson rhyme and metre, he explained, firstly, that "Floris the Fifth"was a play from which much could be learned; and, secondly, that thetheatre was something very moral and thoroughly respectable. 

To be sure, he failed to convince Juffrouw Laps. Nor was Waltergreatly impressed by that masterpiece, despite the fact that therewere three deaths in it. He much preferred the beautiful story ofGlorioso, or the Peruvian story--or even Little Red Riding Hood. 

CHAPTER XIX

Walter had been to church: that was now behind him. Stoffel thoughtthe pastor had preached a beautiful sermon, and said that "in a wayall he said could be accepted. " He hoped that it would "bear fruit. "

"Yes, " said the mother, "and he mustn't tear his new breechesagain. They cost too much hard work for that. "

As a matter of fact the "hard work" done in the Pieterse familymight be regarded as a negligible quantity. There was the necessaryhousework, and the usual complaining--or boasting, if you will--butthis was to be expected. 

That Walter had postponed his visit to go to church was a result ofthe frightful threats of Juffrouw Laps. She cited Second Chroniclesxvi. 12, and in the face of this text the Pieterses were not ablesuccessfully to defend their new and more liberal position. JuffrouwPieterse could only say that the Bible was not to be interpreted thatway, as if everything in it applied to a given individual. 

But Juffrouw Laps stuck to it, that if one has faith and grace onemay come through all right; whereupon Juffrouw Pieterse expressedher willingness at all times to take advice. 

"Those are the essential things; through them we are saved! And--sendhim to me the first of the week. Or he can come Sunday, but afterchurch. Then he can tell me about the sermon, even if the pastorsare--but what does a child know about it!"

Juffrouw Laps didn't think much of pastors. She held that peoplewith grace in their hearts can understand God's word without Greekand Latin. 

"Yes, Sunday after church. I will count upon it. " And in order tomake her invitation more insistent she mentioned certain sweets thatshe usually served her guests at that time. 

Supposing that Juffrouw Laps was really anxious for Walter to come, we must admit that she showed deep knowledge of boy-nature. 

As for Walter, he was afraid to be alone with this pious lady. Forhim she was the living embodiment of all the plagues that are madeuse of in the Old Testament to convert rebellious tribes to the truefaith. For instance, thunder and lightning, pestilence, abysses, boils, flaming swords, etc. 

If he had had the courage he would have asked her just to depositthe promised dainties somewhere outside of her flat. He would findthem then. But he didn't have the courage. 

"And why didn't you go?" asked the mother when Stoffel's enthusiasmover the sermon had begun to die down. 

Walter said he had a pain in his stomach, which children always havewhen they want to bridge over disagreeable duties. With a betterunderstanding between the parents and children this disease would beless frequent. 

"I don't believe you have any pain in your stomach, " declared themother. "It's only because you're a bad child and never do what you'retold to do. "

Stoffel agreed with her; and then a council of war was held. Walterwas condemned to go to Juffrouw Laps's at once; and he went. 

Expecting some terrible ordeal, he was greatly embarrassed and confusedby the show of friendliness with which he was received. 

"And you did come, my dear boy! But you are so late! Church has beenout a long time. See what I have for you, expressly for you!"

She thrust him into a chair at the table and shoved all sorts ofsweets over to him. Walter's embarrassment increased; and he felteven less at ease when she began to stroke him and call him pet names. 

"Now, tell me about the sermon, " she said, when the child triedto escape the tenderness and affection to which he was notaccustomed. "What did the pastor say?"

"The text----"

"But that's all right--afterwards, when your mouth is empty. You musteat a few cakes first. Nobody can do everything at once. There ischocolate; and you're to have a little dram, too. I've always saidthat you are a nice boy; but they're forever plaguing you so. Butyou're not eating enough; do just as if you were at home. "

For Walter that was not the right expression. At home!

His first surprise over Walter began to be possessed by a feeling offear. Why, he could not have told to save him. 

Suddenly he got up and declared that his mother had told him not tostay long. 

There wasn't a word of truth in it. Juffrouw Laps protested, butWalter held his ground. Despite all of that kindness Walter was ableto escape from the enemy. 

Promising "to come back soon" he ran down the steps and into thestreet. 

An indescribable feeling of freedom regained thrilled through him. Hehad escaped. It was incomprehensible even to him. Never had he beenreceived so kindly, so cordially; never had he been treated in amanner approaching this. But why his antipathy? When he left shewas going to kiss him, but he managed to dodge her. Why? He didn'tknow. But it made him shudder to think of it. 

Should he go home now? What excuse could he give for coming backso soon?

Involuntarily he bent his steps toward Ash Gate. It was not hisintention to visit Femke--not at all, really not! For he didn't havehis Ophelia with him--proof conclusive that when he left home he hadnot thought of Femke. 

And when he came in sight of his mills on the Buitensingel--oh, they were silent! Was there no wind? Or were they observing Sunday?

The Buitensingel was full of people taking a Sunday stroll. Walterfollowed the small stream, which led him towards Femke's house. Soon hestood before the low enclosure; but he did not dare to go in. Why? Heput the blame on the absent Ophelia. 

"If I only had that picture here I'd certainly go in!"

That is questionable. Even with the picture he would have probablybeen just as shy. He didn't know what he ought to say--or, better, whether he could say anything, or not. He reflected. Suppose Femke'smother should ask, "Did you want anything?"

We--yes, the "gentle reader" and I--we should have known what toanswer. I wonder if our wisdom would have been wiser than the stupidityof the child, who stood irresolute and hesitating before the fence?

He stood staring at the house, his mouth wide open. His knees trembled, his heart fluttered, his tongue was dry. 

A small column of smoke curling up from the chimney aroused him. Whatif a fire should break out! Then he would have to go in. He wouldrescue her, and carry her away in his arms--far, far away--to the endof the world, or at least outside of the town! Just anywhere wherethe people wear red velvet and green silk, where the gentlemen carrybig swords and the ladies wear long trains. They would be so becomingto Femke. And she should ride horseback, and he would follow her--no, he would ride by her side, with a falcon on his hand!

If a fire should break out!

But Walter saw that the house was in no danger. This smoke came fromthe kitchen. He noticed other houses in the neighborhood where cookingseemed to be going on, and everywhere the chimneys were bearing witnessto activities below which were presumably similar to those of Femke. 

Finally a crowd of fellows came along who had evidently been stoppingat one of those establishments where "refreshments" are served. Theyhad been greatly refreshed, and in their exuberance of freshness, so to say, they crowded Walter away from the fence and took him alongwith them for a little way. 

He was easily reconciled to this; for why, he thought, should hestand there and watch the smoke? There wasn't going to be any fire;and then he didn't have Ophelia with him. 

But to-morrow! To-morrow he would bring that picture with him! Andthen he wouldn't stand at the fence like a baby. 

He felt ashamed when he thought of his friends in their gay colors, or in armor, with plumes and swords. Those kings and knights andpages--they had been courageous, otherwise they never would havereceived such high orders and distinctions. Unless there were somechange, he felt that he would never be pictured like that. 

However, he expected that such a change would come--without doubt, surely, certainly, truly! The further he went, the more determinedhe became to go in the next day and put on a bold front and say:"Good-day, Juffrouw, how do you do?"

It was more difficult for him to decide what he would say to Femke. 

He made up various little speeches in the manner of Floris theFifth. In case Femke shouldn't like them he was going to say, "Why, that is from our greatest poet. "

And then he would ask her to explain a lot of mysterious wordsin Floris that he hadn't understood--for instance, "fast fellow, ""coverture, " "chastity, " and others. 

Walter's development was determined by his desire to know things. Hisfeeling for Femke, which was hardly real love, was subordinated tohis thirst for knowledge. He knew that he couldn't get much from her, especially book-learning; but it was a pleasure merely to discussthings with her, even if she knew nothing about them. 

He was curious to know all that she might have to tell him, or to askhim; for no doubt she too had been saving up her impressions for herfirst friend. But, alas! he was not so certain of her friendship! True, when he was sick she had asked about him; but perhaps she was justpassing by, and thought how easy it would be to ring the bell and ask, "How is Walter?"

Still it had taken courage to do it. What would Mungo Park have saidif he had seen him hesitating before the gate! Walter knew that wasn'tthe way to conquer the world. 

And if anybody had asked Mungo Park: "What do you want in Africa?"

Well, he would have answered. Such a traveller in such a book isnever embarrassed. 

Then Walter began to address all sorts of remarks to negro kingsthat he had conquered with lance and sword. All the women kissed hishand as he rode by on his bay, with fiery red caparison. He inquiredpatronizingly after those good girls who had nursed him in his illness, "because the strange white man was far from mother and sisters andhad no home. " He would reward them princely. 

In all this conquered land Walter was king and Femke was--queen! Howmagnificent the big red velvet cloak would look on her--and thegold crown!

Conquering continents was easy. He was scarcely thirteen; and yethe was afraid that somebody might get ahead of him while he wasbeing detained by the treacherous Pennewip with declensions andconjugations. And, then there were still more things to learn beforeone could be king, even of a small country. Pocket-change would haveto be increased too, for, with all possible economy, six doits a weekwere insufficient. The Hallemans--well, they had more; but fortunatelythey were not thinking of Africa. For the present he was not afraidof any competition from that quarter; but other children, nearer the"grown-up" stage, might get the idea in their heads! And then, whatwould he do to keep his mother from guessing when he made his tripsinto the "interior" longer, and stayed out later than was allowed bythe regulations of the Pieterse household?

It was a difficult matter, but he would manage it. 

All that might happen to him and Femke in Africa would be readafterwards in pretty little books with colored pictures. He alreadysaw himself sitting on a throne, and Femke by his side. She was notproud; she was willing for everybody to know--all those kneelingbefore her--that she had been a poor wash-girl. She had become queenbecause Walter had loved her; and now they needn't kneel any more. 

On special occasions--well, of course, that was different; forinstance, when his mother and Stoffel came to visit him. They shouldsee how all the people honored him--and Femke whom they had treated sobadly. But once would be enough; then he would forgive them everythingand build them a big house with water-barrels and wash-tubs. ForPennewip he would build a big schoolhouse, with desks and ink-bottlesand copy-books and wall maps of Europe and tables of the new weightsand measures. Then the old master could give instruction from earlyin the morning till late at night--or even all night. 

He was just puzzling over how he was going to reconcile MasterPennewip and the dusky young African to one another when Leentjeopened the door. 

Without noticing it he had got home and rung thedoor-bell. Unsuspectingly he fell into an environment quite differentfrom that in which he had moved for the last half hour. He scarcelyunderstood what his mother meant when she asked him how the visitturned out, and whether Juffrouw Laps was satisfied with his reporton the sermon. 

Sermon? Laps? He was unprepared for such an examination. He stammeredout a sort of miscellaneous and irrelevant jumble of words, butfortunately containing nothing about Africa. 

It now developed that in the meantime there had been a sudden changein certain details of religious belief. 

"You see, mother?" said Stoffel. "Just as I've always said, itwould take a lawyer to explain anything to suit her. She alwaysknows better----"

"That's so, " answered the mother. "She's cracked or crazy. Now, just tell me, Stoffel, if anyone can expect such a child to remembereverything a preacher says. I can't do it myself; and you can't do it, either. Master Pennewip can't do it. I tell you, nobody can do it. Andto require that of such a child! She just wants to play the professor;that's the reason she does it. "

Stoffel was of the same opinion. Encouraged by his sympathy the motherbecame eloquent. 

"I would like to know what she's thinking about; or if she thinksshe's a pastor. With all her biblical quotations! And then to tormenta child hardly out of a sick bed--it's a disgrace. You don't need togo to her. What business have you got with her? I tell you----"

Here it occurred to her that she herself had compelled Walter to go, and she interrupted this line of thought to scold Walter and tell himto get out of his Sunday breeches. Her dissatisfaction with herselfexpressed itself further in a funeral oration on Walter's last suit, which had cost so much "hard work. "

"And then to let that child sit there for an hour without anythingto eat or drink! She would----"

Walter's feeling for justice couldn't let that pass. He assured themthat on the contrary--and then that excessive kindness got in his wayagain. In his confusion he went into all the details of the chocolate. 

"Well! Why didn't you say so at once? But it's all the same. I wasgoing to add that she ought to have given you something to eat. That'sthe way such folks are--always grumbling about others and they won'tsee themselves. I believe in grace too, and when I have my houseworkdone I like to hear the Scripture read--but to be everlastingly andeternally prating about it? No, that isn't religion. What do you say, Stoffel? One must work part of the time. Walter! aren't you goingto pull off those new breeches? I've told him a dozen times. Trudie, give him his old ones!"

Walter changed his breeches; but he promised himself that in Africahe would wear Sunday breeches every day. 

CHAPTER XX

The next day Walter rang the doctor's door-bell. His heart was in aflutter, for the doctor lived in an imposing house. He was admittedand, after he had been announced, was told just to come upstairs. 

The maid conducted Walter to the "study, " where the doctor was busyperforming one of his paternal duties: he was teaching his children. 

There were three. A boy, somewhat older than Walter, sat alone in onecorner writing at a small table. The other two, a boy of Walter'sage and a girl that seemed to be a few years younger, stood beforethe table behind which the doctor was sitting. On the table stood alarge globe, evidently the subject of discussion. This became clearto Walter later, for, as far as he knew, he had never seen such alarge ball. He didn't know that there was any other way to explainthe location of countries except by means of maps. Thus he noticedin the room all sorts of things that he didn't understand till later. 

When the maid opened the door of the room he heard the voices ofthe children, and also that of the father. He even heard laughter;but when he walked in all became as still as death. The two childrenat the table stood like soldiers. There was something so comical intheir attitude that Walter could have laughed at them if he hadn'tbeen so embarrassed. Even the girl had a touch of official earnestnessin her face more striking than he had seen it in older people, evenat church. While the doctor was welcoming Walter and offering hima chair, the boy stood with hands clapped down on the seams of histrousers as if he expected someone to say, "Right about--face!" or, "Forward, column right, march!"

The larger boy in the corner had only looked up once, but withthat peculiarly hostile expression which distinguishes man fromother animals--to the disadvantage of the former. It is noticeableespecially in children--sometimes in women. 

"I'm glad to see you, my boy. It was nice of you to come. What haveyou there?"--then he turned to the little soldiers. 

"Remind me afterward to tell you at dinner something about Oliviervan Noort. William, you can think of it, can't you?"

Walter squinted at his Lady Macbeth, and was so embarrassed that hewas helpless to present it to the doctor. The room was so magnificent;and the furnishings--the big cases full of books! His picture seemedso common and ugly that, if he could have done so, he would haveswallowed it. 

At home they had taught him how he must stand and sit and speak;and now he stood there, as awkward as a cow, stammering andstuttering. Making a supreme effort he managed to get it out that hehad "come to thank the doctor" for his recovery--"but God first"!

The two soldiers bit their lips; and even the doctor found it difficultto keep a straight face. 

"God first! Well said, my boy. Have you already thanked God?"

"Yes, M'nheer, every evening in bed, and yesterday at church. "

Little Sietske unable to control herself any longer had to laughoutright. Her laughter threatened to become contagious. William wasbusier than usual with his nose; Hermann had come to life and waseyeing Walter slyly. 

"Order!" thundered the doctor, giving the table a rap with a rulerthat made the globe tremble. Walter was frightened. "Order! This isa nice caper during study-hours. "

The clock began to strike. Sietske seemed to be counting, for atevery stroke she raised a finger. 

"I am going to----"

"Five!" she cried. "All my fingers--just look, five! Five o'clock, papa--Tyrant! Hurrah, hurrah!"

Both boys joined in the uproar. It was a quodlibet from "Gaudeamusigitur, " "Vive la joie, " and "God save the king. " Forward, all! Vivela vacance! A bas les tyrans! Revenge! * * * *

The children were determined to have their well earned romp; and theyhad it. Walter rubbed his eyes, and would not believe his ears. Itwas beyond his comprehension. * * * *

"That will do now, " said the doctor. "Come, mamma is waitingdinner--and you, too, my boy!"

William took Sietske on his back and Hermann mounted the father. Thusthey descended the stairs, Walter bringing up the rear. Lady Macbethhad disappeared, being now crumpled up in Walter's breast-pocket. 

Walter was nonplussed. Was this the same man who used the goldpen?--whose coachman wore the furs?

How was it possible? Was it a dream, that he and all the family hadlooked on this man and simply been overcome by his dignity?

He couldn't understand it. 

Again the atmosphere of the dining-room was quite different from thatof the schoolroom, either before or directly after five. 

"Present the young gentleman to your mamma, " said the doctor, turningto William. 

"May I do it?" asked Sietske. 

Doctor Holsma nodded, and the little girl took Walter by the hand andconducted him to a lady who sat at the head of the table preparingthe salad. 

"Mamma, this is a young gentleman--oh, I must know your name. Whatis your name?"

"Walter Pieterse. "

"This is Mr. Walter Pieterse, who has come to thank papa, becausehe--he was sick; and he--the young gentleman is going to stay fordinner, papa?"--the doctor nodded again--"and he's going to stay fordinner, mamma. "

"With mamma's consent, " said the father. 

"Yes, with mamma's consent. "

Mevrouw Holsma spoke to Walter kindly and offered him a chair. Itwas necessary, too. 

Everything seemed so princely to Walter that he was glad to beseated. Three-fourths of his little figure was hidden under thetable. That was something gained. He was amazed at almost everythinghe saw and heard. He folded his hands. 

"Do you want to say a grace, little man?" asked the doctor. 

"Yes, M'nheer, " Walter stammered. 

"A good custom. Do you always do that at the table?"

"Yes, always--at warm meals, M'nheer!"

Those children had been taught good manners. Nobody smiled. 

Walter bowed his head for a moment; and the doctor took advantageof the opportunity to give the children a look of warning. Theyremembered; and, if afterwards Walter discovered that he had cut asingular figure in this household, they were not to blame. 

"You do well to do it, " said Holsma. "We don't do it; and perhaps wedo well not to. "

"Certainly, " said the mother. "Everyone must act according to hisown conviction. "

This simple statement moved Walter more than any of them could haveimagined. He--a conviction! That short sentence of Mevrouw Holsmaattributed to him a dignity and importance that was strange to him, and gave him a right he had never thought of before. Through the souphe was thinking continually: "I may have a conviction!"

It never occurred to him that a thing could be interpreted otherwisethan it was interpreted for him by his mother or Stoffel, or someother grown-up person. The whole question of praying, or not praying, did not appear so important to him as this new fact, that he couldhave a conviction. His heart swelled. 

The doctor, who understood Walter, recalled him from his thoughts. 

"Everyone must act according to his conviction; and in order to cometo a conviction one has to reflect a long time over the matter. Iam convinced that our little guest would like to eat some of thosepeas. Pass them to him, Sietske. "

Walter had grasped the import of Holsma's words, and also the meaningof this transition to the peas. Walter felt--without putting hisfeelings into words--that the pedantry of the schoolroom had been putaside at five o'clock, and that his host merely wanted to give him afriendly warning against dogmatic bigotry, without tainting the fresh, wholesome atmosphere of the dining-room. 

Despite his shy, retiring nature--or, better, in connection with thischaracteristic--Walter was an extremely intelligent boy. This facthad escaped almost everybody he had come in contact with because ofhis lack of self-confidence, which prevented him from revealing histrue self. He usually seemed to comprehend more slowly than others;but this was because he was less easily satisfied with the result ofhis thinking. His mind was exacting of knowledge. During Walter'ssickness Holsma had remarked this peculiarity of the boy, and hisinterest had been enlisted at once. 

Walter's shyness was due in a great measure to the manner in whichhe had been taught what little he knew. Everything his teacherstaught him was looked upon by them as something immutable andirrefutable. Twice two is four, Prince so-and-so is a hero, goodchildren go to heaven, God is great, the Reform Church represents thetrue faith, etc. , etc. It was never hinted to him that there was anyroom for doubt. Indeed, he was led to believe that his desire to knowmore about things was improper and even sinful. 

After all those extraordinary occurrences in the study, Walter wasprepared to expect almost anything in the way of the unusual, butthat William and Hermann, and even little Sietske, were allowed tohelp their plates to whatever they wanted--that was more wonderfulto him than the aërial voyage of Elias. With Geneviève in the famouswilderness--yes, even in Africa it couldn't be any more free andeasy. He was continually surprised and taken off his guard by theunwonted and unexpected. In fact, his thoughts were so far away thatwhen during dessert the little girl passed him a saucer of cream----

Ye gods, it happened and--I must tell it. Oh, if like thechroniclers of old, I might put the blame on some privy councilor, "who unfortunately advised, " etc. 

But what privy councilor in the whole world could have advised Walterto let that porcelain spoon tilt over the edge of the saucer and fallinto Sietske's lap! He did it, he!

Oh, how sad it was. He had just begun to pull himself up in hischair. Another moment and he would have actually been sitting. Perhapshe might have said something soon. The name of a certain country inAfrica, which Sietske could not remember a moment before, had occurredto him. It was not that he might seem smarter than Sietske that hewas going to speak out. No, it was only that he might seem a littleless stupid than himself. But now--that miserable spoon!

Before he had time to wonder how his awkwardness would be received, Sietske was talking along smoothly about something else--just as ifthis little "catastrophe" was a matter of course. 

"Papa, you were going to tell us something about Olivier van Noort. "

She arose, wiped off her little skirt and fetched Walter anotherspoon from the buffet. 

"Yes, papa, Olivier van Noort! You promised it, papa. "

All urged him to tell the story. Even Mevrouw Holsma manifested greatinterest in it. Walter was aware that this conversation was intendedto cover up his accident. He was moved; for he was not accustomed toanything like this. As Sietske took her seat again she noticed a tearcreeping down across his cheek. 

"Mamma, I got a silver spoon. That's just as good, isn't it? Theseporcelain things are so heavy and awkward. They've fallen out of myhand three times; and Hermann can't manage them, either. "

The mother nodded to her. 

"And how it is with Olivier van Noort?"

The door-bell rang, and almost immediately afterwards a gentlemanentered the room who was greeted by the children as Uncle Sybrand. 

The host now invited all to the garden and sent Hermann to the studyfor a book. 

"You young rascal, don't you go now and maliciously break thatglobe. It can't help it. "

Then came the story of Admiral Olivier van Noort and the poorVice-Admiral Jan Claesz van Ilpendam, who was put ashore in the Straitof Magellan for insubordination. It interested all, and called fortha lively discussion, in which the entire family as well as the gueststook part. 

CHAPTER XXI

To readers of a certain class of fiction it will no doubt seem strangeif I say that Walter's visit to the Holsma family influenced greatlyhis spiritual development. Not immediately; but a seed had been plantedwhich was to grow later. He saw now that after all independent thoughtwas possible, even if he could not yet allow himself that luxury. Themere knowledge that there were other opinions in the world than thoseof his daily mentors was a long stride forward. 

He was depressed on account of his lack of knowledge. Those childrenknew so much more than he did; and this made him sad. 

They had spoken of someone who was startled to find footprints. Whowas it? The child had never heard of Defoe's hermit. He asked Stoffel. 

"Footprints? Footprints? Well, you must tell me what footprints youmean--whose footprints. You must give names when you ask questions. "

"That's right, " said the mother, "when you want to know anythingyou must mention names. And Mevrouw made the salad herself? Well, that's strange. The girl must have been out somewhere. "

As to other "strange" things, which were not likely to meet theapprobation of his family, Walter was silent. Not a word aboutthat Saturnalia, or the omission of grace at a "warm meal"! Nordid he mention the liberties that were allowed the children, or thefreedom with which they joined in the conversation. Perhaps it wasa superfluous precaution. That bearskin would have been excused formany shortcomings. 

Juffrouw Pieterse asked repeatedly if he had been "respectable. " Waltersaid he had, but without knowing exactly what she meant. That affairwith the spoon--had it been respectable? He didn't care to have thisquestion decided--at least by his mother. But it was nice of Sietske;and wouldn't he have done the same?

He learned that the day was approaching when he must return toschool. More than ever he felt that this source of knowledge wasinsufficient for him; but opposition was not to be thought of. Hewas dissatisfied with himself, with everything. 

"I shall never amount to anything, " he sighed. 

His Lady Macbeth seemed uglier to him than ever. He tore her up. AndOphelia?

Goodness! He hadn't thought of Femke the whole day. Was it becauseshe was only a wash-girl, while the doctor's children were soaristocratic? Walter censured himself. 

He took advantage of the first opportunity to pay his debt in thatquarter. For he felt that it was a debt; and this consciousness gavehim courage. Picture in hand, he passed the familiar fence this timeand knocked boldly on the door. His heart was thumping terribly;but he must do it! In a moment he stood before Femke. The lady ofhis heart was quietly darning stockings. It is hard on the writer;but this little detail was a matter of indifference to Walter. 

"Oh!" she cried, extending her hand. "Mother, this is the younggentleman we saw that time--the little boy who was so sick. And howare you now? You look pale. "

"Take a seat, little boy, " said the mother. "Yes, you do lookpale. Worms, of course. "

"No, no, mother. The child has had nervous fever. "

"All right--fever, then; but it could be from worms. Give him a cup, Femke. It won't hurt you to drink coffee; but if it were worms----"

Mrs. Claus's worms were more in Walter's way than the stockings. 

"Where does your mother have her washing done?" she asked. "Not thatI want to pump you--not at all. But if she isn't satisfied with herwash-woman--it sometimes happens, you understand. Everybody mustlook out for himself; and I just thought I'd mention it. Wheneverthere are any ink-spots Femke takes them out with oxalic acid; andit never makes any holes--yes, it did happen once, and we had to payfor a pair of cuffs. You can ask Femke. "

The fact was, he wanted to ask Femke something else; and she knewit. The story of Aztalpa had left its marks on her mind. But shewas hampered very much like Walter was at home. She couldn't say, "Mother, speak a bit more Peruvian!" So she simply asked what theroll was that he had in his hand. 

Walter was confused, but he managed to stammer that it was a presentfor her. Femke said she would always take good care of the picture. 

"Yes, " said the mother, "and you must iron out those creases. We iron, too, little boy, and we deliver the clothes ready to put on. Nobody cancomplain. You can tell your mother. And your collar--it isn't ironednicely--and such bluing! Ask Femke. Femke, isn't the blue in stripes?"

His collar not ironed nicely? and blued in stripes? And the infalliblePietro had laundered it! Even here, were there differences in methodand conception? And in this respect, too, was the Pieterse traditionnot the only one that brought happiness?

Femke was on nettles. She studied Ophelia, wondering who she was, and tried to turn the conversation. At last something occurred toher. It was necessary for her to run some errand or other, and "theyoung gentleman" could "accompany" her a part of the way. 

"As far as I'm concerned, " said the mother. 

The young couple retired, taking one of those ways which in theneighborhood of Amsterdam are simply called "the ways. " That is allthey are. Whoever walks there for pleasure must take a good stock ofimpressions with him, in order to escape tedium. 

But Walter and Femke were not lacking in this respect. Walter hadso much to tell Femke that he could scarcely hope to get through;and she, too, had thought of him more than she was willing to admit, and more than he had any idea of. She began by saying that she hadn'ttold her mother of her unfriendly reception by Walter's mother andsisters, because she didn't want her mother----

"Oh, Femke--and you thought I would come?"

"Yes. " said Femke, hesitating, but still with a readiness thatdelighted Walter. "Yes, of course I expected to see you again. AndI had a mass said for your recovery. "

"Really?" said Walter, who hardly knew what it meant. "You did thatfor me?"

"Yes, and I prayed, too. I should have been sad if you had died. ForI believe you are a good boy. "

"I ought to have come sooner; and I wanted to, but--Femke, I wasafraid. "

He related to her how he had been near her on Sunday. The girlattributed his timidity to his diffidence toward her mother. 

"My mother is a good woman. She wouldn't hurt anybody, but--youunderstand. She doesn't mix with people much. I understand theworld better, because, you see, I was a nurse for three weeks. I wasonly substituting; I was too young to be a real nurse. It was at arelation's of ours, where the girl was sick. You know we really comeof a good family. But that makes no difference. Tell me, are you welland strong again?"

Walter told her now all about his sickness, and soon he cameinvoluntarily to the thing that gave him most trouble, his defectiveknowledge. 

"All the children know French; but at our school it isn't taught. It'simpossible to be a great man without knowing French. "

Walter had difficulty in explaining to her that he meant somethingother than the possession of three houses, though that might notbe bad. 

"I should like--you understand? I should like--yes--I should like--howshall I explain?"

The sovereignty of Africa was on the end of his tongue; but he didn'thave the courage to put his dreams into words. 

"You know, Femke, that we live here in Europe. Now, down there in thesouth, far away--I will draw it for you. We can sit down here and Iwill show you exactly what I mean. "

He selected some small sticks suitable for making outlines on theground, then he and Femke sat down on a low pile of boards. Heproceeded to scratch up the sand for some distance around. 

"That is Europe. The earth is round; that is, it consists oftwo halves, like a doughnut. You see, it looks like a pair ofspectacles. With that half we are not concerned. That's America. Youcan put your feet on it if you want to. Here is where we live; thereis England; and here is Africa. The people there are uncivilized. Theycan't read, and they don't wear many clothes. But when a travelercomes along they are very nice to him--the book says so. I'm goingdown there and teach all the people to read and give them clothes andsee to it that there is no injustice done in the whole land. And thenwe will----"

"I, too?" asked Femke in amazement. 

"Why, certainly! I wanted to ask you if you were willing to go withme. We will be man and wife, you understand; so when I get to be kingyou will be----"

"I? Queen?"

She laughed. Involuntarily she rose and trampled to pieces all thekingdoms that Walter had just laid at her feet. 

"But--won't you be my wife?"

"Oh, you boy! How did you get such nonsense into your head? You arestill a child!"

"Will you wait then till I'm grown up? Will you let me be your friend?"

"Certainly! Only you mustn't think of that nonsense--not that you maynot go to Africa later. Why not? Many people go on journeys. Formerlythere lived a carpenter near us, and he went to the Haarlem with hiswhole family. But--marrying!"

She laughed again. It pained Walter. The poor boy's first proposalwas turning out badly. 

Suddenly Femke became serious. 

"I know that you are a good boy; and I think a great deal of you. "

"And I!" cried Walter. "Femke, I have thought of you all the time--whenI was sick--in my fever--I don't know what I thought of in my fever, but I think it must have been you. And I talked to the picture Ipainted for you as if it were you; and that picture answered like youand looked like you. I was Kusco and Telasco, and you were Aztalpa, the daughter of the sun. Tell me, Femke, may I be your friend?"

The girl reflected a moment; and in her pure, innocent heartshe felt the desire to do good. Was that seventeen-year-old girlconscious of the influence that Walter's childish soul exerted uponher? Scarcely. But she wanted to give him a less cruel answer. 

"Certainly, certainly you shall be my friend. But--but----"

She was hunting for some excuse that would not hurt him, and still lethim see the difference in their ages. He had grown during his illness, to be sure, but still--she could have carried him on her arm. And hehad dreamed of rescuing her from a fire!

"My friend, yes. But then you must do everything that I require. "

"Everything, everything! Tell me quick what I can do for you. "

It was painful for the girl. She didn't know what she should require;but she was under the necessity of naming something. She had alwaysheard that it was good for children to study hard. What if she shouldspur him on to do that?

"Listen, Walter. Just for fun I told my mother that you were the bestin school. "

"I?" cried Walter abashed. 

"Study hard and be the first in school inside the next three months, "said Femke to the conqueror of continents, unaware of the sarcasmthat lay in her words. "Otherwise, you see, my mother might thinkI had made fun of you; and I don't want that to happen. If you willonly do that----"

"I will do it, Femke!"

"Then you must go home and begin at once. "

Thus she sent him away. As she told him "Good-bye" she noticed allat once that he was too large for her to kiss. A few hours later, when Father Jansen was calling on her mother and incidentally sawWalter's painting, Walter suddenly became a child again. The priesthad said that in Dutch Ophelia meant Flora, who was the patron-saintof roses and forget-me-nots. 

"Oh, that picture is from a little boy, a very small boy. He's aboutten years old--or nine. He's certainly not older than nine!"

"Girl, you are foolish!" cried the mother. "The boy is fifteen. "

"Yes, that may be--but I just meant that he's still only a child. "

She stuck Ophelia away in some hidden nook, and Mrs. Claus and FatherJansen never saw that new edition of the old flower-goddess again. 

"Femke, I will do it!" Walter had said. 

There was really reason to believe that he would learn faster now;but Pennewip's instruction would wear Femke's colors. Walter knewvery well that in requiring this service she had had his own welfarein view; but this showed her interest in him, and was not so bad. Howwould it have looked, he thought, if, after all that had gone before, he had answered: "Everything except that!"

Of course he would have greatly preferred to serve his lady on somejourney full of adventure. But one cannot select for one's selfheroic deeds. In these days Hercules and St. George would have toput up with miniature dragons. 

At all events, Walter took hold of his work in earnest. He studied his"Ippel, " his "Strabbe, " his "National History" and even the "Genderof Nouns, " and everything else necessary to the education of a goodNetherlander. Poetry was included; and Walter's accomplishments alongthis line were such that other "Herculeses" might have envied him. 

He had never read the stories of tournaments. No enchantress gavehim a charmed coat of mail; no Minerva put the head of Medusa onhis shield--no, nothing of all that. But--Keesje, the butcher's boy, might look sharp for his laurels!

In justice to Walter it must be said that he gave his opponent fairwarning, in true knightly style. 

At the end of three months Walter was actually the first in hisclasses. Pennewip was compelled to take notice of it. 

"It is strange, " he remarked. "I might say that it is remarkable. Yes, in a way, it is unprecedented--without a parallel!"

At home the result was that a great council was held regarding Walter'sfuture. He didn't want to become a compositor; and to be a sailor--thatwould have suited him, but his mother was opposed to it. Stoffel, too, objected on the ground that usually only young people who areworthless on land are sent to sea. 

Thus Walter's plans for conquest were slipping away from him. Hewas not attracted by the brilliant careers that were proposed: Theyleft Africa out of account. He didn't want to be a school-teacher, or a shoemaker, or a clerk, or a counter-jumper. 

However, after all authorities had been heard, Stoffel cameto the conclusion that Walter was peculiarly well fitted for"business. " Juffrouw Pieterse agreed with him thoroughly. 

CHAPTER XXII

"A responsible business firm wants a young man (Dt. Ref. ) of goodfamily. He must be moral, well-behaved and not under fifteen yearsold. Prospect of salary if diligent and reliable. Good treatmentguaranteed. Address written applications in own handwriting to'Business, ' care E. Maaskamp's book and art store, Nieuwendyk, Amsterdam. "

The writer cannot recall what sort of art publications E. Maaskamp wasdealing in just at that time, and will not make any guesses, for fearof getting the reader into chronological difficulties. If it shouldbecome necessary in writing Walter's history, the writer would haveno compunctions of conscience in putting the republic after Louis, or William I. Before the republic. 

And as for that "Dt. Ref. "--Dutch Reform--in the advertisement--thatgives the writer no trouble. He knows very well that "Dt. Ref. " as anecessary qualification for servants, apprentices, etc. , was introducedafter E. Maaskamp's pictures had been forgotten. Nevertheless, itmust be insisted upon that the aforesaid abbreviation was in theadvertisement which was now occupying the undivided attention ofthe Pieterses. 

"There couldn't be anything more fortunate, " said the mother. "Whatdo you think, Stoffel?"

"Yes, mother, it couldn't be better. "

"What pleases me especially is the 'well-behaved. '"

"Moral and well-behaved, mother. "

"Yes, moral and well-behaved--do you hear, Walter? Just as I havealways said. And 'prospect of salary. ' What do you think of that, Stoffel?"

"Yes, mother; but--he must be 'diligent and reliable. '"

"Yes, Walter, you must be diligent and reliable. Haven't I always toldyou that? And they require 'Dt. Ref. '; but you are that, thank God. "

"Yes, mother, he's that all right. "

"Stoffel, don't you think you'd better write the letter?"

"But it says 'in own handwriting. '"

"That's so! But if you write the letter in your own handwriting--thatwill be better than for such a child to write it. "

Stoffel had some difficulty in making it plain to his mother that"own handwriting" meant Walter's own handwriting; but she finallysaw the point, and Walter was given a seat at the table. 

"Well? What must I write at the top?"

"Now, have you forgotten that again? Such a simple thing? Have yougot down the date? Then write 'Gentlemen, ' in business style. It says, 'responsible business firm. '"

"Yes, " said the mother, "and add that your father had a business, too. We sold shoes from Paris. Otherwise they will think we're onlyshoemakers. "

"And write that you are the first in school. "

"And that you belong to the Dutch Reform Church. "

"And that you are moral and well-behaved. "

"And that you are diligent and reliable. Don't you see, you may geta salary then right away. "

At last the letter was ready. It only remained to stamp it and postit. But why couldn't the young applicant deliver the letter in personand save the postage? Stoffel thought there would be no improprietyin such a course. Even a responsible business firm ought to overlooksuch a detail. 

With a heavy heart Walter started out on his important errand. He wasentering the real world, and was about to become a worshiper of thegreat god of "business. " He was depressed by his lack of confidence, and felt that it was unbecoming in himself to make application to a"responsible business firm. "

If he met a man that looked well-to-do, he would ask himself ifthe gentleman was a "business man, " and belonged to a "responsiblebusiness firm. " This last high-sounding expression embodied mysterieswhich he did not attempt to understand. He would learn it all later. 

Walter stammered an excuse to the young fellow in the shop for nothaving sent his letter by post. The fellow didn't understand him, butthrew the letter carelessly into a box containing a few dozen othersthat were awaiting the favorable consideration of Messrs. Motto, Business & Co. 

The fellow was busy with some Turkish battles in glaring colors, and declined to enter into any conversation with our hero. Walter'smouth watered for a bright picture of Grecian chivalry. But what gooddid it do? He had no money; and, besides, he was out for business, not for heroic deeds. 

"Later!" he thought. 

Arrived at home he received the usual scolding. His mother maintainedthat he had certainly not entered the shop in a "respectable" manner;otherwise the young gentleman would have given him a friendlierreception. She was afraid that those excellent gentlemen, Motto, Business & Co. , would take this into consideration to his detriment. 

"And you say there were already a whole lot of letters there? Yousee, Stoffel--if he only isn't too late! That's the way--those peoplewould break their necks or be first. And who knows but what some ofthem are Roman Catholics? I wonder if they all think they're moraland well-behaved. You can just see what kind of people there are inthe world!"

Walter had to go back to Maaskamp's and get the address of the firmin question. The idea was for him to call on the firm in person andthus get ahead of everybody else. Juffrouw Pieterse wanted to bet herears that not a one of the other applicants could boast of a fatherwho had sold Parisian shoes. 

"Tell them that! Your father never took a stitch in his life. Hedidn't even know how to. It's only to prove that we had a business, too. He never had an awl in his hand--isn't it so, Stoffel?"

Those eminently respectable gentlemen, Motto, Business & Co. , lived--Idon't know where they lived; but they had founded on the Zeedyk acigar store and a circulating library. It was probably not far fromthe place where six or eight centuries earlier a few fishermen hadfounded the greatest commercial city of Europe. 

Walter found one of those worthy gentlemen behind the counter. He wasin his shirt-sleeves, and was engaged in weighing out some snuff foran old woman. "Business" was evidently being carried on. 

As Walter had formed no conception of "responsible business firm, "he was far from thinking that the gentlemen had claimed too much forthemselves. With his peculiar timidity he even reproached himselffor not having understood the conception "business" before. 

Now he understood it. Business meant to stand behind a counter, in shirt-sleeves, and weigh snuff. And, too, on the Zeedyk. 

The cigar store occupied only half the width of the house, and wasconnected with the circulating library by a side door. Motto, Business& Co. Were simultaneously cultivating two industries: those who didn'tcare for snuff or tobacco could get something to read, and vice versa. 

Over the shelves, on the tobacco side, were posted signs bearing theassurance that something was "manufactured" here. Differing entirelyfrom the Pieterses, these gentlemen seemed to think that to makea thing meant more than merely to sell it. We leave the questionundecided. 

Was it true that this business firm manufactured anything? The onlything they manufactured was the paper bags that were to be pastedtogether by the moral, well-behaved, diligent and reliable young manwho was a member of the Dutch Reform Church. 

The amount of business done was small, the profits barely paying therent. The wicked world on the Zeedyk even said that the two blueporcelain vases bearing in old-fashioned letters the inscriptions"Rappee" and "Zinking, " had been borrowed from a second-hand dealerin the neighborhood, and that the good man came by every day to lookafter his property. 

The shop was small, and was closed off in the rear by a green curtain, which was calculated to make customers think there was something morebeyond. To be exact, there was something beyond that curtain. Therehung a dilapidated mirror, consoling with a lonely chair, which wasnow ornamented by the coat of the worthy senior partner; and leaningagainst the wall was a half-round table, on which a pomatum-potwas making fun of a comb because for years it had been expectingto grow new teeth. Business was not so exacting but that Mr. Mottocould devote a little spare time to the improvement of his personalbeauty. He had succeeded in developing two beautiful bunches of hairon the sides of his face. They cost him much pains and grease; butthey were the delight of all the ladies who entered the shop. 

"And so you want to go into business, do you?" asked Mr. Motto, after he had given the old woman a "pinch" from the jar. "What allhave you studied? Reading, writing, arithmetic, French? Eh? And whatare your parents. "

"They dealt in shoes--from Paris, M'neer. But I don't knowFrench. Arithmetic--yes. Went through Strabbe. "

"And you know arithmetic, do you? How much then is a Pietje anda half?"

Walter stammered that he didn't know. Does the reader know?

"But you must know that if you expect to calculate. And you don't knowwhat a Pietje is? Do you know the difference between a sesthalf anda shilling? And between a dollar and a twenty-eight piece? Look----"

Mr. Motto pulled out the cash-drawer and seemed to be hunting for adollar; but for some reason or other he decided to make out with asesthalf. This he laid on the counter and asked Walter to imagine ashilling lying beside it. He then proceeded to test Walter's knowledgeof business by asking him to point out the differences between thetwo coins. Mr. Motto claimed that in business one must know thesedetails thoroughly. 

And Mr. Motto was right about it. At that time there were moredifferent kinds of money in the Netherlands than there are in Germanynow. To be able to distinguish the various coins readily and makechange accurately a regular course of study was necessary. Justas a law was about to be passed to confer the title, "Doctor ofNumismatics, " on examination, the secretary of the treasury discoveredthat all this trouble could be spared by simplifying the money. Hebecame very unpopular after this. 

In Walter's time, though, such a reform had not been thought of. Theflorin had twenty stivers; the regular Holland dollar had fiftystivers, the Zeeland dollar had forty-two. The dollar was worth aflorin and a half, and the gold florin was called a "twenty-eight, "because it contained twenty-eight stivers. The coins were well-worn andseldom exhibited any traces of inscriptions, milling, etc. Matters werefurther complicated by three-florin pieces and ducats of sixty-threestivers, not to mention any other coins. 

For Walter the money question was a serious one. 

"And you don't know French, either?" in a tone that was scarcelyencouraging. 

"No----" mournfully. 

"And would your parents put up cash security for you?"

Walter didn't understand the question. 

"Caution. Don't you understand? Security! There's lots of moneyhandled, and I must know who I'm turning the shop over to. And--doyou know Danish?"

Mr. Motto did not always speak grammatically. 

"No--M'neer. "

"What! Nor Danish, either? But Danish sailors come in here to buytobacco, and then you need to speak Danish. In a business like thishere you must know all languages. That's the main thing--otherwiseyour cake's dough! I've even had Greeks to come in here. "

Walter's heart gave a jump. What heroic deeds might they not do onsuch occasions!

"Yes, Greeks; but they were drunk and wanted a smoke for nothing. Wedon't do it that way. The main thing is to look out for thelittle things. Otherwise your cake's dough, you understand. Yes, in business you must know all languages, otherwise you can't talkto the customers. That's the main thing. But that will be all rightif your parents can deposit a caution. Sometimes there are at leastten florins in the cash-drawer, you know; and in business a man musthave security. That's the main thing. Otherwise your cake's dough;you can see that for yourself. "

"My father is dead, " said Walter, as if that fact rendered the cashsecurity unnecessary. He didn't know anything else to say. 

"That so? Dead! Yes, it often happens. Dead? All right! But haven'tyou a mother who can pay for you?"

"I--will--ask--her, " Walter stammered. 

"Certainly. Ask her right away; for you know in business thingsare done in a hurry. Said, done! That's the main thing. Otherwiseyour cake's dough. Here is another shop, and you will have work todo in there, too--if your mother can put up the money. That's themain thing. "

Mr. Motto conducted Walter into the circulating library. On three sidesof the room were bookcases reaching to the rather low ceiling. For therest, the place was provided with a ladder to be used in gatheringsuch fruits of literature as hung out of reach. And then there wasa big, thick book, in which the diligent and reliable young man ofProtestant faith was to enroll the names of the people who paid adubbeltje a week for a book. It's cheaper now. 

"You see, " said Mr. Motto, "that is the book, so to say the greatbook. You understand bookkeeping, don't you?"

Unfortunately Walter had to admit that he had not yet studied thatbranch. 

"Nor bookkeeping, either? Boy! that's the main thing in business. Ifa man can't do that his cake's dough. It's very simple. You write downwho takes out a book, with the day and date and street and number. Andwhen they bring the book back you drawn a line through it; and you'vegot a pretty kettle of fish if you don't do it. When you don't knowthe people you must----"

"Ask for a deposit!" cried Walter quickly, rejoiced that he knewsomething. It's doubtful if he knew what he was to draw the linethrough. 

"Yes, a deposit. A florin a week for a volume. Then, you understand, when a volume's gone, the cake's dough with that volume. Later I willexplain to you everything about the cigars and tobacco; but firstI must know whether your mother--ask her right away! And now I'veexplained everything to you at least half a dozen times. For there'sno lack of boys that want to go into business; but when it comes toMoses and the Prophets--then they set the bow-sails. And that's themain thing. Otherwise you look a little delicate, but I must knowfirst if your mother can deposit a caution. Adieu!"

Walter went home in a peculiar frame of mind. At first the familydid not think favorably of that "cash security. " Stoffel, however, had often heard of such things, and negotiations were opened withthe said firm. It was finally agreed that a deposit of one hundredflorins should be made, for which the firm agreed to pay 3 1/2%interest. Juffrouw Pieterse was not quite satisfied with this, asshe was accustomed to getting 4%; but "one must do something forone's children. "

Stoffel, who represented the Pieterses in these negotiations, wassurprised that he never got to see more than the first half ofthe firm--or, better, the first third. He even took the libertyof remarking on the peculiar circumstance, when he learned thatthe "Co. " was merely ornamental, while "Business" existed only inMr. Motto's imagination. In fact that handsome and worthy gentlemanalone constituted the "responsible business firm, " and like an Atlascarried on his broad shoulders all the responsibilities incident tosuch a complicated and extensive undertaking. It was quite naturalthat he should desire to put a part of the burden on the back of somediligent, reliable Protestant boy, who could furnish cash security. Forthat was "the main thing. "

On the library side Walter developed a diligence against which onlyone thing could be urged: it was prejudicial to the tobacco industryadjoining. If he had smoked as much as he read, he would have madehimself sick; and even his reading wasn't the best thing in the worldfor his health. 

He devoured everything indiscriminately--whether ripe or green. Mostof that literary fruit was green. In a short time he was able toforetell the fate of the hero with a certainty that would have piquedthe author. The cleverest literary craftsman couldn't let the poororphan boy be as poor as a church mouse for ten pages, but thatWalter would see the flashing of the stars and knightly crucifixeswith which he was to be decked out on the last page. One might thinkthis would cause him to lose interest in the book; but, no! He wasconstant to the end--to the official triumph. For him it would havebeen a sin to call to the Saxons and Normans a second too soon:"See if Ivanhoe isn't going to smash that big-mouthed Sir Brian deBois-Guilbert!" And all the time he felt as if he were--Ivanhoe? No, as if he were the deity, who must give the hero strength to overcomethat infamous scoundrel, Brian de Bois-Guilbert. 

Then all at once the door-bell would ring, and the magnanimous Walterwould have to occupy himself with things less chivalrous. 

The only thing he could do in such moments was to weigh accurately, and not give anybody a cigar from the "tens" instead of fromthe "eights. " Such conscienciousness, however, was futile, forin the cigar-boxes were cigars that ought to have been called"twenties. " Mr. Motto said that the customers were usually drunk, and that it was all right to give them cabbage leaves to smoke. "Youmust size up your customer. That's the main thing. "

This was something Walter never could learn. With him, ten was ten, eight eight--no matter who the customer was. To take an unfairadvantage, or tell a lie never occurred to him. From fear orembarrassment he might possibly tell an untruth; but if he had beenasked a second time----

As strange as it may seem, this aversion to lying and deceptionwas nourished by the books he read. The brave knight fought till hewas victorious, or dead. Only the fatally wounded surrendered. Allthis had Walter's hearty endorsement: He would not have acteddifferently. The beautiful heroine was loved by everybody; and therejected suitors died of despair, or joined some desperate band. Allquite proper. The good remained steadfast, in spite of the Devil andall his machinations--yes, in spite of tedium. Once selected by theauthor to be a high-toned, moral hero--then spotless garments! Walterwondered if such a one could have a pain in the stomach, or sufferother inconvenience. Certainly not in books!

He did not know that such perfection was humbug. He was satisfiedwhen the characters in such novels did what was required of them bythe author. The villains were always betraying somebody; the heroeskilled everything that got in their way; and the beautiful virginscharmed everybody. Even God, the God of romance, did his duty muchbetter than--but that's another detail. 

Yesterday on the Zeedyk a big boy had beaten a little fellow. Thatought to happen in a book. How all the knights would have comerunning! Walter, too, was going to--but how could he help it if hisemployer called him back? "What in the devil have you got to do withthat? Your work is here in the store. You attend to your own businessnow, and don't mix yourself in other people's brawls. That's themain thing!"

As a rule of conduct, this was not just what Walter was used to inhis novels. 

Despite such interruptions he continued his reading. He was almostready to begin on the last section of books, when he came to thestore one morning and found everything locked up and under seal. 

The worthy Mr. Motto, it seems, had gone to America, as a sailor;and doubtless that was the "main thing. " The unfortunate owner of thetwo snuff-vases had a big law suit over them. The point was whetherthey were a part of the assets, or not. 

On the Zeedyk at Amsterdam such processes must be tried accordingto Roman law; but as the Romans did not use snuff there is nothingsaid about "Rappee" in the Roman laws. The writer doesn't know howthe matter finally turned out. It is to be hoped that everybody gotwhat was coming to him. 

Juffrouw Pieterse, however, did not recover her hundred florins; and, as usual, she groaned: "There's always trouble with this boy. "

Walter couldn't help her. He had his own troubles: he had been cruellyinterrupted in his reading. Of course the mysterious parentage ofthe young robber was perfectly clear to him; but still one likes tosee whether one has guessed correctly, or not. 

CHAPTER XXIII

"Do you think stivers grow on my back?" asked the mother the nextday. "You still don't earn a doit! Do you have to buy tobacco forold soldiers?"

Walter had nothing to say. Recently his mother had given him a shillingto give to Holsma's maid. Walter neglected to do this, and spent onestiver of the money on snuff for an old soldier. 

The mother continued her tirade, making use of the word "prodigue, "prodigal. 

"No, mother, " said Stoffel, "that isn't it. He's behind ineverything. He doesn't know yet how to handle money, that's it!"

"Yes. He doesn't know how to handle money! All the other children athis age--when they have a stiver they either save it or buy themselvessomething. And he--what does he do? He goes and gives it away! Boy, boy, will you never learn any sense?"

Walter was cut to the quick by the accusation of wastefulness andprodigality. In his eyes a prodigal was somebody, a man! "Prodigue, prodigue, " he murmured. He knew the word. 

In one of the bedrooms hung a series of crude, highly colored picturesillustrating the story of the prodigal son. The pictures were French;and a study of the titles convinced the family that "prodigue" couldmean nothing but prodigal in the worst sense, i. E. , "lost. " Stoffelhad maintained this proposition against one of his colleagues, tillthat one drew a lexicon on him. 

After much argument it was decided to compromise on the "mistake"in the French Bible by allowing "prodigue" to have sometimes themeaning of "extravagant. " Those pictures had afforded Walter muchfood for thought. 

First picture: The "lost" or prodigal son tells his fathergood-bye. The old gentleman wears a purple coat. Very pretty--but theprodigal himself! A mantle floated about his shoulders--it seemed tobe windy in the colonnade. It was princely; and his turkish trouserswere of pure gold. At his side was a bent sabre, and on his head aturban, with a stone in it--certainly onyx, or sardonox, or a pearl, or a precious stone--or whatever it might be!

The old gentleman seemed to be out of humor; but no wonder--all thoseloaded camels, and the slaves, and all the accessories for that long, long journey! A negro, as black as pitch, was holding a horse bythe rein. Another negro was holding the stirrup, and seemed to say:"Off to the Devil; prodigal, get on!"

What boy wouldn't have been a prodigal son? The bent sabre alone wasworth the sin. 

Second picture: Hm--hm. Wicked, wicked! Why, certainly; but not forWalter, who in his innocence attached no importance to the extravagantdresses of the "Juffrouwen. " It was sufficient that all were eatingand drinking bountifully, and that they were in good spirits andenjoying themselves. How prettily one of the girls, in glossy silk, was leaning over the shoulder of the "lost" one! How much nicer to belost than found!--anyway, that was the impression the feast made onWalter. The true purpose of the picture--to deter people from a life ofdissoluteness--escaped Walter entirely. Perhaps he knew what it meant;but in his heart he felt that it meant something else. What attractedhim most was not the food and drink, under which the table "groaned, "nor the sinful sensuality painted on the faces of the ladies. It wasthe freedom and unconventionality of the company that charmed him. Inorder to emphasize the idea of prodigality, the painter had allowedsome big dogs to upset an open cask of wine. 

The wine was streaming, and straying away as if it were the lostsinner. This pleased Walter immensely. None of the guests seemed tonotice such a small trifle, not even the waiters. This ought to havehappened just once in the Pieterse home--and even if it were only astein of beer!

The artist says to himself, Do you suppose I didn't foresee theseductive influence of such a picture? The next one makes it all right!

Well, maybe so. 

Third picture: Magnificent. How romantic this wilderness! Oh, tosit there on that boulder and stare into the immeasurable depths ofthe universe--alone!

To think, think, think!

No schoolmaster, no mother, brother, or anyone to say what hemust do with his heart, with his time, with his elbows, or with hisbreeches! That's the way Walter saw it. The young man there didn't evenhave on breeches; and he looked as if he wouldn't have been ashamedto stretch himself out on his back, with his arms over his head, andwatch with wide-open eyes the passing of the moon and stars. Walterasked himself what he would think of when he had founded such anempire of solitude. 

Hm! Femke could sit on the boulder with him. Prodigal son--oh, sin divine with her! He was surprised that in the whole Bible therewas only one prodigal son. Of all sins this seemed to him the mostseductive. 

And the desert was so--endurable. There were trees in it, which onecould climb, when one really got lost, or use to build a nice littlecabin--for Femke, of course. 

The prodigal in the picture didn't seem to have thought of allthat. Why wasn't the Juffrouw in green silk with him? She will comesoon, Walter said to himself. Perhaps she's not quite through withher prodigality. If she would only hurry up and come! He longs forher. But that is the only annoyance that a genuine prodigal takeswith him from the profane world into that capital wilderness. 

It must be remarked in passing, however, that the hogs with whichthat picture was equipped looked ugly. The pious artist had made themshield-bearers of sin, and had supplied their physiognomies with allkinds of horrible features. And, too, the trough looked dirty. 

If it happens to me, said Walter, I'll take sheep with me; and Femkecan card the wool. 

The artist ought to admit that even this third picture is inadequateto inspire a proper disgust for prodigality. 

And the fourth one? No better. 

The old gentleman is excessively friendly. We are again in thecolonnade, where the camels have just waited so patiently. One of theslaves clasps his hands and looks toward heaven--because he's glad, of course, that little Walter has come back. 

He? The real Walter? Returned home, and friendly received in his highrank of a "has-been" and "recovered" prodigal? Oh, no!

And that fatted calf! In direct opposition to the custom that wasfamiliar to Walter! It worried the boy. Juffrouw Pieterse neverslaughtered anything. She ran a weekly account with Keesje's father;and even a roast was a rarity. 

There was no prospect of a fatted calf, whether he became a prodigalor not. But that didn't keep the rank of a prodigal from being higherthan that of a stupid boy who didn't know how to handle money. 

He was encouraged to think that he was indebted to his friendlyenemy, Juffrouw Laps, for something. She always cited the Bible, and spoke continually of feeding swine. Walter wanted to answer:"That's very nice, Juffrouw Laps, but can't it be sheep this time?"

He knew very well that she had never had any passion for carding, and consequently was not interested in that blue muffler, which wouldbe so becoming to Femke's favorite sheep. 

But she assured him that he was a prodigal; and that was enough. 

"That's what I've always said!" replied Juffrouw Pieterse. "Whatdoes he do but squander his mother's money? If that man wants snuff, let him buy it. The king pays him. I have to work too hard for mymoney. Don't I, Stoffel?"

"Yes, mother; but it's only childishness in Walter!"

"Childishness! That's what I call it. "

"No it isn't!" cried the pious Laps. "He's on the straight road tothe trough of Luke 15. He will eat husks! Do you think the Masterdoesn't carry out his parables? Just send him to me. The pastors areto blame for it. They don't explain the Bible. Send him to me. "

"If I only knew how he gets such things into his head!"

"You don't know? It's arrogance!"

She spoke the truth. 

"Arrogance, Arrogance pure and simple--just as it was in Belshazzar, or Sennacherib, or Nebuchadnezzar. "

How thankful Walter was! If at this moment he had had a letter towrite--preferably to Femke--he would have boasted of being as wickedas three old kings put together. 

"Arrogance!" repeated Juffrouw Laps. "Gold on top, iron in the middle, and feet of clay. The Master will overthrow him. Send him to me. "

This invitation to turn over the royal villain to her for religiousinstruction was repeated so often that it was necessary to give heran answer. 

"But, dear Juffrouw, the boy don't want to. He's stubborn; and whatcan one do with such a child?"

Walter knew that his mother was not quite truthful; but, after hisformer experience with his friendly enemy, he found it desirable tokeep quiet. When pressed, however, for an explanation he said:

"The man wanted snuff, and nobody would give him any; so I----"

Juffrouw Laps knew enough. Walter was as good as her prisoner: shenow knew exactly how to take his fortifications, if they could betaken at all. 

"If he doesn't want to come to me, don't compel him, " she said sweetlyon leaving. "To force him won't do any good. Let him exercise his ownpleasure. I'm afraid you pick at the child too much, anyway. What anawful fuss we've made over a stiver!"

"That's what I say, too, " replied the mother. "It looks as if webegrudged him the money! We could have spared another stiver, and wewouldn't have missed it, would we, Stoffel?"

"Yes, mother, but it's time for Walter----"

"Goodness, what a hullaballoo to raise about a few pinches ofsnuff! The Master will repay it seven times seventy times. Whateverye have done to the least of my brothers----"

With this consoling passage on her lips she took her leave of theastonished family. 

Yes, it wasn't so easy to see through Juffrouw Laps!

CHAPTER XXIV

In his efforts to reconcile the various conflicting authoritiescontesting for supremacy in his soul, Walter threw himself into asevere spell of blues. He was not conscious of the contrast betweenthe world of his high-flown fancy and the earthy environment of hishome-life. The sympathetic care which he should have received afterhis illness had not fallen to his lot. 

He felt dejected. 

"Femke!" he thought; and he longed for her fresh healthy face, for her pure, unselfish glance, for her friendly smile. The Fancythat had led him away to the stars in search of his misty sister hadgot lodged on that girl of the Amsterdam lowlands, Femke--with herunpoetical length, breadth, thickness, and weight. 

"I am going to see her, " he cried. "I will! And if Mrs. Claus asksme about worms a dozen times, it's all the same to me; I am going tosee her!"

Walter reached the house and knocked. "Come in!" someone called. Thiswas a little sudden, for it took some time to get hold of thelatch. But Walter did it. Perhaps he was thinking of Missolonghi. 

The Turks that he saw now were not revolting in appearance. They wereunarmed and did not murder a single baby. 

But--Femke was not in the party. 

Mrs. Claus was at the wash-tub, while Father Jansen was quietlysmoking. 

"Is that you, young man? Very nice! That's the young man who gaveFemke the picture, you remember, father?"

The father nodded to him kindly and smoked away, without manifestingany special Godliness. 

"Yes, Juffrouw, I wanted to----"

"Very nice of you! Won't you have a slice of bread and butter? And howis your mother? Is she better now? She was sick, wasn't she? That'sa good boy, father. Femke said so. Is your mother better again? Itwas fever, wasn't it? or apoplexy--or what was it then?"

"Oh, no! Juffrouw. "

"You mustn't call me Juffrouw. I am only a wash-woman. Everyone muststay in his own class, mustn't he, father? Well, it's all the better;I thought she had been sick. It must have been somebody else. Onehas so much to think of. Do you like cheese?"

The good woman prepared a slice of bread and butter, with cheese. IfTrudie could have seen it, she would have fainted. In the "citizen'sclass, " such and such a sub-class, according to Pennewip, is founda certain scantiness that does not obtain in the common laboringclass. In the matter of eating, laborers, who do not invest theirmoney in Geneva, are not troubled so much by "good form" as peoplewho give their children French names. 

Walter had never seen such a slice of bread. He didn't know whether heought to bite through the width, or the thickness. The bit of cheesegave him his cue. 

He liked Mrs. Claus much better this time. And Father Jansen, too;even if he wasn't like Walter had imagined him to be. 

He had never conceived a preacher as being anything else but a verysupernatural and spiritual and celestial sort of person. Father Jansendidn't seem to be that kind of a man at all. 

He visited the sheep of his fold, especially the plain people, notto make a display of beneficence--for he had nothing, but because hewas happiest among simple people. He was fond of bread and butter ofthe Mrs. Claus variety. For the rest, he said mass, preached aboutsin, catechised, confirmed, absolved, and did whatever needed to bedone. He performed the functions of his office, and did not thinkit at all strange that he should have gone into the church, whilehis brother in Nordbrabant succeeded to the business of his father, who was a farrier and inn-keeper. 

"And what are you going to be?" he asked Walter; "for everybody in theworld must be something. Wouldn't you like to be a bookbinder? That'sa good trade. "

"I was--I was in business, M'neer; and I'm going back to business. "

"That's good, my boy. You may get rich. Especially here in Amsterdam;for Amsterdam is a commercial city. "

Walter wanted to add: "The greatest commercial city of Europe. " Buthe was abashed by the--worldliness of Father Jansen's talk. He didn'tfind it disagreeable: he was merely surprised at it. 

"A boy like you ought to eat a lot. You look pale. My brother can benda horseshoe. What do you say to that? Have you ever eaten our Brabantbread? Ham isn't bad, either. A person that doesn't eat enough getsweak. I always eat two slices of bread and butter whenever I'm hereat Mrs. Claus's; but I'm not nearly so strong as my brother. Youought to see the Vucht fair. That's a great time. "

Walter was more than surprised to hear such talk from a preacher: hewas almost pleased. He had never received such charming messages fromheaven. Of course they came from heaven, those friendly words utteredin Brabant dialect between the puffs of Father Jansen's pipe. Thisman in a priest's coat chattered away as if there were no such thingin the world as God, Grace, and Hell--especially the latter. He wasas happy as a child in telling about the strength of his brother, the horseshoer. It was his business to lead the world to eternalhappiness; and he liked thick slices of bread and butter with cheese. 

Walter had never had religious things opened up to him sodelightfully. He felt encouraged to speak:

"M'neer, I would like to know who God is!"

Father Jansen started, and looked at Walter as if he hadn't clearlyunderstood the question. 

"Yes--that's very praiseworthy in you. You must----"

"But, father, " cried Mrs. Claus, "the child isn't in the church! Areyou?"--to Walter. 

"Yes, Juffrouw, I have been confirmed. "

"To be sure, to be sure, but----"

"On the Noordermarkt!"

"Well, you see he's in the church all right. "

The good woman didn't have the heart--or else she had too muchheart--to tell the father that it wasn't the right church. 

"Whoever wants to get acquainted with God, " said Father Jansen, "must study diligently. "

"To be sure, " said Mrs. Claus, "the articles of faith. You ought tohear my Femke repeat them. It's a pleasure, isn't it, father? She'smy only child, but--she's a girl worth having!"

"Yes, Femke is an excellent girl. I don't have any trouble with her. "

The father spoke in a business-like manner; and he meant it thatway. The spots on Femke's soul were easily removed. He praised Femkeas a cook would praise a kitchen-pot. 

Father Jansen had still more praise for Femke: she had patched hisdrawers so nicely. 

Oh, Fancy!

The mention of this fact did not touch Walter's æsthetic feelings. Withhim there were other considerations. Fancy was used to seeingeverything nude--fathers, humanity--so there was no difficulty here. 

Walter was sixteen years old, already a little man--why must Femkepatch drawers for this father!

"Yes, " said the mother. "Femke is clever at patching. If you've gotanything else that needs mending, just send it over. "

Walter was warm. If it had been collars, socks, waistcoats, or--well, if it had to be something questionable--if it had only been trousers!

"Just send it over, and if Femke isn't here----"

"Where is she going to be?" thought Walter. 

"Then I will attend to it myself. I can do it neatly. "

Thank God! Dear, good, magnificent Mrs. Claus! Do it, do it yourself, and leave Femke where she is. 

But--where was she?

Thus Walter's thoughts; but what did he say?--the hypocrite, thebudding man. 

"Yes, indeed, Mrs. Claus, I had almost forgotten to ask where yourdaughter Femke is. "

"Femke? She's at my niece's, where the girl is sick. You know we'reof good family. Femke is looking after my niece's children. "

Walter didn't have the courage to ask where this niece lived, so heassumed a look of contentment. 

After much waiting and twisting and turning on his chair, Walterfinally left the house with Father Jansen. He had not yet learnedhow to end a visit: some people never learn it. 

"Don't you want to do me a favor?" said the good man. "Then walk onmy right side. I'm deaf here"--pointing to his left ear. 

"I will tell you how it happened. When I was a little boy--are youa good climber?"

"No, M'neer!"

"Well, I am! In the whole of Vucht there wasn't a boy who couldclimb as well as I could. Do you know what I did once? I climbed upand slipped a flower-pot from a third-story window. And--my priestwasn't in a good humor at all! He didn't want to accept me till I hadreturned that flower-pot; and then I had to go and beg the old woman'spardon. And she herself went to the priest to intercede for me. Thenhe accepted me. But I got twenty 'confiteors'--oh, he was severe!

"But I was going to tell you why I'm deaf in the left ear. 

"In one of the seminaries was a student--he's a canonicus in the Rhinecountry, and will get to be a cardinal, perhaps pope, for--he wasvery sly! I will tell you, his name was--Rake; but, you understand, his name was really something else. This Rake was a mean rascal; but hewas never punished, because he was careful. See if he doesn't get to bea cardinal, or pope! You ought to hear him quote from the Vulgate. Hecould rattle away for three hours and never made a mistake. " * * *

"Are you perfectly crazy, boy, or what is the matter with you? Walkingwith a priest! What in the name of the Lord are you thinking about? Goin the house--quick! Jesu, what troubles I have with that child!"

With these words Juffrouw Pieterse broke off Walter's acquaintancewith Father Jansen for this time. 

The way that the father and Walter had taken led them directly byWalter's home. Juffrouw Pieterse, who was haggling with a Jew over theprice of a basket of potatoes, narrowly escaped a stroke of apoplexywhen she saw them together. 

"With a priest!--Stoffel! Come down quick--that boy is walking witha priest!"

Tears rose in Walter's eyes. He had found Father Jansen a good man, and was grieved that that gentleman should meet with such a reception. 

It is to be hoped that those rude words were received by his leftear. In fact, this seemed to be the case, for when Walter said thathe was at home now and that his mother was calling him, Father Jansenanswered kindly:

"So? You live there? Then I will tell you the next time why I am sodeaf in my left ear--entirely deaf, you understand!"

Thank God, Walter thought, and wiped away his tears. In his eyes hismother had committed a sin so grave that about fifty "confiteors"would be necessary for its expiation. 

"Oh, yes. I was going to tell you----"

With these words Father Jansen turned around again. He continued:"The flower-pot of the old lady, Juffrouw Dungelaar, you know--itwasn't for the flowers, you understand, nor for the pot, but onlybecause I could climb so well. Otherwise--one mustn't take anythingaway, even if it is so high up. Adieu, young man!"

After giving Juffrouw Pieterse a friendly greeting that she did notdeserve, the man continued on his way. 

Stoffel said that to walk with a priest was "simply preposterous. "

"As if he were crazy!" said Juffrouw Pieterse. 

"Yes, " agreed Stoffel, "but it's because he has nothing to do butloaf around. If that keeps up, he will never amount to anything. "

True, Walter was loafing around; but he was not idle. His activitiesbrought nothing palpable to light, still he was building up the innerlife in a manner of which Stoffel had no idea. 

"Of course!" said the mother. "He must have work. If he were onlywilling to be a compositor! or an apprentice in the shoe-business. Tomake shoes--that he shall never do. "

"This running with priests comes only from idleness, mother. Do Irun with priests? Never. Why not? Because I have to go to my schoolevery day!"

"Yes, Stoffel, you go to your school every day. "

"Besides, there are good priests. There was Luther, for instance. Hewas a sort of priest. What did he do?"

"Yes, I know. He reformed the people. "

"He made them Lutherans, mother; but that's almost the same thing. Onemustn't be narrow-minded. "

"That's what I say, Stoffel, people ought not to be sonarrow-minded. What difference does it make what a person's religionis, just so he's upright, and not a Roman Catholic!"

When Walter told Father Jansen that he "was in business, " and thathe was "going back to business, " he spoke better than he himselfknew. He did go back to business. 

Through a leather-dealer, who, speaking commercially, was in closetouch with shoes that came from Paris, Walter got a position with afirm whose "responsibility" was somewhat less apocryphal than that ofMessrs. Motto, Business & Co. He was to begin his new apprenticeshipin the offices of Messrs. Ouwetyd & Kopperlith, a firm of world-widereputation. 

However, before he was to enter upon his new duties, all sorts ofthings were destined to happen, with the tendency to make Walterappear as a "hero of romance, " which he wasn't at all. 

CHAPTER XXV

It was Thursday. Stoffel came home with the important news that theking--I don't know what king--had arrived in the city unexpectedlyand would visit the theatre that evening. Everything and everybodywas in a commotion; for in republican countries much importance isgiven to pomp and title. 

This time curiosity was more wrought up than usual. Many foreignprinces, including an emperor, were visiting the king; and thesedistinguished personages would follow the court to Amsterdam, comingfrom The Hague, Utrecht and Haarlem. To put it tamely, it was to bea great occasion. 

That republican populace was to get to see the countenance andcoat-tails not only of their tyrant, but also the countenances andcoat-tails of many other tyrants, not to mention female tyrants. 

The old doughnut women on the "Dam, " which the city rented to them asa market-place, were threatening to bring suit against the city. Theyfelt that it was hard to have to pay rent for the fresh air, day afterday, with the prospect of selling a few doughnuts to the youth ofthe street, and now be run out because his majesty wanted to exhibithimself to the people from the balcony of the old City Hall. 

Why shouldn't the old women be seen at their accustomed places? Mustthe doughnut industry be carried on secretly? Was it for fear ofimitations and unprincely competition? Or was it to keep the oldwomen from seeing the king?

At any rate, the whole kit of them had to leave. At most, they couldonly mix with the crowd incognito, and afterwards might join inthe prearranged "Long live the King!" or somebody else, as the casemight be. 

It is really remarkable that princes die. Seemingly the "vivats"are of no avail. 

The crowd was especially large, on account of the many majesties andhighnesses who had gathered about the tyrant. 

Among the number was the Prince of Caramania, who had especial claimsupon the sympathy of the people, so all the newspapers said. One ofhis ancestors had been a captain in the service of the state and had, therefore, spilt his blood for the freedom of the Netherlands. 

This blood, and perhaps the freedom as well, was newspaperarabesque. It was certain, however, that the prince wore a greencoat with gold frogs; and upon his head he had a big plume. It was, therefore, quite proper for the crowd to cry occasionally "Long livethe Prince of Caramania!"

Among the eminent gentlemen was a certain duke, who, by reason of hisvirtues, had got himself banished from his country. The man was thriftyand economical, though without neglecting himself. Nevertheless, the rabble had dethroned him and sent him across the border with abushel of diamonds. Of these diamonds he was now to display a fewdozen in the shape of coat-buttons and the like. The newspapers gavethe crowd their cue accordingly. They were to cry: "Long live theDuke with his diamonds!"

Princess Erika was the niece of the king, and was to marry thecrown-prince of a great empire, which was indebted to the Netherlandsfor its prominence. The newspapers gave the assurance that this empirewould pay off the national debt of the Netherlands if the peoplewould only put enough enthusiasm into a "Long live Princess Erika!"

The old Countess-palatine of Aetolia was descended directly froma certain knight who treated his hostlers like princes. In thiscase it was not inappropriate for a republican populace to ask fora prolongation of her ladyship's life. The cry was: "Long live theCountess-palatine of Aetolia!"

The Grand-duke of Ysland was the handsome grandson of a shopman. Hismerits would fill three columns of fine print. The man was a masterof the type-case himself, and by exerting himself could even set uphis own name. The newspapers said that having safely passed an oceanof pitfalls, he had now perfected himself as the brother-in-law ofa demi-god. Therefore, whoever had the interest of his country atheart could not afford to fail to bellow at the top of his voice:"Long live the Grand-duke of Ysland!"

There were still more potentates and ladies of quality who had honoredAmsterdam with a visit. They had heard that the city was la Vénisedu Nord, that it was tres interessant, tres interessant! etc. 

And the Holland herrings! Délicieux! Unfortunately the Netherlandersdidn't know how to cook them; they must be baked. 

And the Holland school of painting! Rambrànn--magnifique!

There were still other good things in Holland, as their highnessestestified with patronizing kindness. 

"Il parait qu'un certain Wondèle a écrit des choses, des choses--maisdes choses--passablement bien!"

And the dikes! And the Katwyk sluice--gigantesque!

Whatever spare time they might have after making cheese and cookingherrings, the Holland people liked to devote to fighting theelements. After skating and racing this was the favorite recreationof the nation. 

I can assure the reader that the aristocratic party took theirdeparture thoroughly satisfied with our country. The only person whoreceived quite a different impression--but I will not anticipate thefeelings of our hero. Even a writer has his duties. 

The first evening everything was to be illuminated. Two hundredand fifty thousand candles were to proclaim the enthusiasm of thepeople. Two hundred and fifty thousand fiery tongues were to cry:"Hosanna! Blessed be he who comes in the name of----" In whosename? Hosanna for whom? For what?

Well, that was a matter of indifference to the people. They knewthat there was something doing, that there was a crowd, and thatwas enough. People are somewhat like children, who amuse themselvesimmensely in the confusion of a "moving, " of a death, or of anythingthat causes commotion and excitement. 

Walter had got permission to see the illumination. Unconsciouslyhe assumed that stupid expression which is obligatory on suchoccasions. He listened to the conversation of those about him. 

"That's what I call illuminating! Nine candles for such a big house!"

"Twelve!" cried another. 

"No, nine. "

"Twelve!"

"Nine!"

"Three--three--three--and three. Look there are twelve, or I can'tcount. "

"No, the three above don't count. That story is rented. I know it. "

"Well--if you mean it that way. I only said that four times threeare twelve. What do you say, Hannes?"

Hannes found the calculation correct. 

"How long will the candles burn?"

"Till about one o'clock, I suppose. "

"I don't believe it!"

"Well, I do!"

"But I don't!----"

"Have you been in the Sukkelgracht?"

"Oh, it isn't pretty there. "

"You think so? Prettier than here. "

"Oh, no!"

"Yes, it is!----"

"Look there; there's a verse. "

"Yes, a verse. Can you read it?"

"Certainly! Let me see, what is it?"

"I can read it, too. "

"It's about 'illustrious blood'----"

"Yes, and 'our country, ' and 'dedicated to honor and virtue. '"

"And 'his illustrious blood'----"

"No, there it stands--'torn from the barbarians'----"

"That comes later. 'Illustrious blood'----"

"Of Holland's hero----"

"Welcome, hero!"

"I wonder if the king looks at the candles. Do you suppose he readssuch verses and copies them?"

"Oh, he has his ministers for that. "

"Or generals. He has seen or read about lots of nice things. "

"As nice as here?"

"Why, of course!"

"I don't believe it. "

"Well, I do. "

"Do you know what I think? He likes to look at the lights too. "

"You think so?"

"Yes. "

"No, you don't believe that. "

"Don't crowd so!"

"I can't help it. They're crowding me. "

"The people are pushing and shoving as if they were crazy. "

"Did you ever see the like? You know what I think? Kalver Streetought to be as wide again as it is. "

"Yes, as wide again. The street's too narrow. "

"That's why everybody's scroudging so. "

There was much truth in this. Pressure was high. People were mashedand squeezed together. Those who, by reason of a lack of avoirdupois, were less firmly attached to the ground, were lifted bodily. Walterhung suspended in mid-air and looked over the heads of men much tallerthan he. 

"Are you walking on stilts?" asked a big fat woman, whose hips hadcome into collision with Walter's knees. "Well, that's something. "

The pressure was increasing. It seemed that the fat woman would soonhave Walter on her shoulder, like a gun; while Walter was thinkingthat soon he would be roaming over the country like a knight. No onewas looking at the candles now. People were finding their amusementin crowding and being crowded. 

No, Kalver Street ought not to be widened. For, properly understood, this crowding and pushing and shoving was the nicest part of thewhole business. 

How tedious it would have been quietly to watch those two hundredand fifty thousand candles from some comfortable position. 

Our little man lay on the heads and shoulders of his brothers. Likesome aspirants to a throne, he threw himself upon the masses. But hewas beginning to feel generally uncomfortable. He wanted to hold onfast to something, or somebody--to somebody's ears, or nose. That, however, did not suit the masses. They didn't mind being squeezed;but they didn't like to be held on to. 

Crash!

Don't let the reader be alarmed. Walter had not burst under the strain;but the pressure of the crowd had broken in the double doors of acafé! The irruption was terrible. The way the crowd streamed in mightbe compared to the flow of molten lava. Walter described a paraboliccurve and landed on a table, without suffering any damage. 

"Walter Pieterse!" cried the astonished party sitting around the table. 

"Have you hurt yourself, Walter?"

No, he hadn't hurt himself; but he was rigid with surprise. Firstly, over his ascent; secondly, over his aërial journey; then over hisdescent among all kinds of glassware; and, finally--and that was notthe least surprising thing--he was surprised to find himself all atonce in the bosom of the Holsma family. 

It was Sietske who asked him if he was hurt. 

All the glasses, both great and small, were broken; but Walter wasstill in one piece. Uncle Sybrand helped him to his feet. It wasn'teasy, for the press was great. However, Walter's size facilitatedmatters. 

The proprietor couldn't reach the scene of action, but he was ableto make his voice heard to the effect that everything broken must bepaid for. From other tables came the noise of more breaking glass. Theman was desperate. He cursed kings and masses indiscriminately. 

"One bottle of wine, three lemonades, six glasses!" cried Holsma, assuming the responsibility for Walter's unintentional work ofdestruction. 

Uncle Sybrand was holding up the money to pay for everything. 

"Oh, M'neer, I'm afraid to go home after this, " cried Walter. "Howcan I pay for that? And my mother----"

In the noise and jumble Holsma did not understand; but Sietskeunderstood. 

"Sh!" she whispered. "Papa will pay for it all. Besides, I have money;and William, too; and Hermann. Just be quiet. "

Walter still did not understand. When, under the protection of theHolsmas, he was safe on the outside again, and the entire party hadescaped the mob by taking a side street, he reiterated that he diddare show his face to his mother and Stoffel. 

"It doesn't make any difference about the money, " said Holsma. "Iwill attend to that. Why, boy, you're scared half to death. You'reshaking. Come along home with us where you can rest a bit and quietyourself. "

The distance, however, proved too short to have the desired quietingeffect on Walter. 

"My mother will be angry when I come home late. "

Holsma told him that a messenger should be sent to his mother at once, so that she would know where he was. 

The doctor gave him a sedative and led him into a room adjoining thatin which the Holsma family were sitting. Walter was to walk up anddown the room till he felt better; but he soon got tired of this anddid the very thing that he was not to do; he sat down on a sofa andfell asleep. 

Whether, in general, it is a good thing to keep in motion after afright--that I do not know. Walter, on the contrary, always felt theneed of sleep under such circumstances; and this remedy, with whichnature provided him, usually restored his mental equilibrium. Perhaps, after all, it wasn't real sleep: he merely dreamed. 

Again he was lifted up, higher and higher, borne by strong hands. Aman bit him in the hand. The fact was he had scratched his hand ona refractory horsehair, which had become tired of acting as stuffingfor a sofa-pillow. 

An angry woman assailed him with abuse. Stupid? Not stupid? We, themasses? She let him fall. But he fell in Sietske's lap; and therewasn't a single sliver of glassware. 

He was happy--but the horsehair scratched him again. Then he hearda voice. Was he still dreaming? Yes, dreaming again of soaring andfalling. There was Femke. 

Of course there had to be something about her in his dream, and aboutbleaching the clothes. Father Jansen was there, too, exhibiting tothe stars the particular garment that Femke had patched. Orion andthe Great Bear admired this specimen of her handiwork. Walter did not. 

"Did you do it yourself?" he heard Sietske asking in the next room. "Orcouldn't you get through the crowd?"

"No, it was impossible to get through such a mob. I turned it overto the man with the peddler's wagon. "

What was that? Walter sat up. Father Jansen was gone; Orion, too;and the clouds, and the "masses"; but--that voice!

He heard it again. 

"I know him very well--oh, so well! He's a good boy. " This he heardFemke say!

He jumped up and ran into the room where the Holsmas were. He sawa triangular piece of a woman's dress disappear through the door;then the door closed. 

He didn't have the courage--or was something else beside couragenecessary to ask, "Is that Femke?"

On his way home that evening Walter did not suffer in the leastfrom the sensation of being borne through the air; or from anythingsimilar. He was on the earth, very much on the earth. He felt lowly. 

If he had only seen that bit of Femke's dress somewhere else, andnot at the Holsmas--not in that swell family; not in the companyof Sietske, who had so much money in her "savings-bank, " nor in thepresence of the vain William, who was studying Latin!

He was brave enough to feel ashamed of himself; and that's all I cansay in his favor. 

Let us now look at things from the point of view of JuffrouwPieterse. That lady was in the clouds. She was hoping that themessenger who had brought her news of Walter had not been able tofind her flat at once. The idea of someone from Dr. Holsma's askingfor her through the neighborhood was decidedly pleasant. The longerhe might have had to inquire for her the better!

"Of course he was at the grocer's, " she said. "Such messengersnever know where they have to go. Of course he told that the 'younggentleman' was staying at Dr. Holsma's! And such a man alwaystattles; such people don't do anything but tattle. But, as far asI'm concerned, everybody can know it. I only mean that such peoplelike to tattle. But--say, Walter, how did it happen that you wentwith the family? You're a nice rascal. Stoffel, what do you say?"

Stoffel made a serious face--as much as to say: "Hm! I'll have tothink over it. He's been up to something. "

"I met the Holsma family in Kalver Street, " Walter said. He toldthe truth; he had met the family in Kalver Street. But why didn't hetell anything about the extraordinary circumstances under which hemet them? Ah--there's the rub!

"Your back is so sticky!" complained Pietro, whose care it was tolook after the washing. 

The family rubbed, and felt, and smelt; and then they declaredunanimously that Walter's back had been guilty of absorbing all kindsof sticky gases and liquids. 

"Really, it smells like lemon, " said Trudie. 

"And like wine!"

"And it's just coated with sugar. Boy, where have you been? Don'tyou have any sense of shame? To go to visit such swell people withlemon and sugar on your back! It's a disgrace, a disgrace. "

"There was such a crowd on the street. "

"That don't explain the wine on your back--nor the lemon--nor thesugar. What say you, Trudie?"

There was complete unanimity. Timid, as usual, Walter didn't have thecourage to tell everything. Nor would this have done any good. Theunderstanding of the Pieterse family was like a rusty lock that no keywill open. Walter knew this, and remembering former sad experiences, allowed the storm to rage above his head. Unfortunately he, too, in a sense, was rusty. His nobility of character had suffered; hehad been guilty of cowardice. 

He felt it. No minister could pray it away. Not even God himselfcould revoke it. Everyone must act according to his conviction, Mevrouw Holsma had said. He had not done this. 

A dog would have kissed the hem of Femke's garment, meeting her aftersuch a long separation. For it was she. Certainly it was Femke--or----

Oh, he was hunting for or's!

Could it have been somebody else? It must have been somebody else. Howcould Femke be at Dr. Holsma's?

No, no, it was she! Didn't she say that she knew me? Didn't she speakwith the same voice that I heard when she called me a dear boy andgave me the kiss at the bridge?

She didn't know then what a coward I am! She wouldn't deny me andbetray me. She would say to everybody: That is Walter, my littlefriend that I kissed that time, because he was so brave in fightingoff those boys!

And I? Oh, help me God!

No, God has nothing to do with it. I am a coward. I can't livethis way. 

He thought of suicide; and in this mood he spent that Thursdaynight. He arose Friday morning with the firm determination to put anend to his unworthy existence. 

Fortunately, just after breakfast he was put to work on a job thatis calculated to reconcile one with life. 

He had been tried and convicted, the verdict being unanimous. Thepenalty was that he should wash his jacket till it was clean. Heentered upon the task with such enthusiasm that in an hour he wasrunning to his mother crying triumphantly:

"Look, mother! You can't see a trace of it now!"

This little conquest dispelled all the clouds that had darkenedhis life. 

There are plenty of people who would gladly fall into a barrel oflemonade if they only understood the salutary effects of cleaninga coat. 

The poor unfortunate who has never washed his own clothes does notknow what life is. 

I will ask her pardon, thought Walter; and he pictured it allto himself, wondering whether it would do for him to fall at herfeet at Holsma's, in the presence of the one who had delivered themessage. Finally, however, he quieted himself with the thought thatFemke would probably not be at the doctor's very long. He hoped to beable then to settle the matter quietly, when only the two concernedwere present. This was not courageous, to be sure; but his punishmentwas already on the way. 

CHAPTER XXVI

The events of an eventful Friday were at an end, as it seemed; andWalter prepared to climb into the narrow bedstead, which he shared withhis brother Laurens. He was now in a tranquil frame of mind. He didn'teven have any desire to romp with Laurens, who, without laying claim togeometrical knowledge, usually managed to find the diagonal of the bed. 

It was Walter's intention to think over recent events again. He wishedto busy himself with others; he was tired of himself--at least hethought so for a moment. 

There was a prince, who distributed money among the people. Oh, if I were only a prince!

That wasn't a bad thought. Under the same circumstances, most peoplewould have thought: Oh, if I could only have got some of the money!

The countess-palatine from--where from? Well it makes nodifference. She was in the museum and the papers said she was gracious, very gracious. 

I would do it too, thought Walter, if I were a countess-palatine. Whatsort of a profession is that?

The king had given audiences--and a dinner--and had said--well, theusual things. But for Walter it was new and interesting. The welfare ofthe city seemed to lie heavily on his majesty's heart. It lay heavilyon Walter's heart, too; but that did not prevent Walter from admiringthis peculiarity of the king. In Africa he would do the same thing. 

No, away with Africa!

He threw off his left stocking so violently that it curled aroundthe leg of the chair like a dying earthworm. 

What strange things he had heard of Princess Erika! It was said thatshe was to have married a grand-duke, but rejected him. 

The middle classes were delighted with this news; though not knowingbut that it might merely have been stubbornness on the part of theprincess. 

She was of such a strange nature that she did not know how to behaveherself in her high position. 

Walter slipped off his other stocking, finding fault with the princessfor disregarding the usual customs and conventions. Hm! He wonderedif she would like to change places with him, and let him be PrinceErich--and she----

He wondered if she too wore an ugly nightcap. But--no! Princesseswould wear caps of diamonds. 

Princess Erika!

Walter blew out the light--no, he was on the point of blowing itout. He had selected one of the triangles that Laurens had describedin the bed, when suddenly he became aware of a great tumult in thePieterse home. 

Yes, somebody had rung violently three or four times and was stillbanging at the door. Fire?

Hm! Could it be Princess Erika, he thought, who was coming to changeplaces with him?

Alas, it was only Juffrouw Laps; and she did not come to exchange. 

Well, what did she want then, so late in the evening?

Walter pulled himself together and listened. 

The compartment where Walter and Laurens slept was a boxed-uparrangement over the sitting-room. Two of their sisters shared thespace with them. From considerations of modesty, therefore, the boysalways had to get sleepy a quarter of an hour before the young ladies. 

The writer is unable to say how much oxygen four young people needduring eight hours without suffocating; but anyway there wasn't muchroom in this little nook. 

In another closet-affair there was a similar division, and here, too, the hour for retiring was determined by similar laws of modesty. 

The reader will now understand why a part of the family, the femalepart of course, was still in the sitting-room when Walter imaginedthat Princess Erika had come to exchange places with him. 

Juffrouw Laps, who had rushed up the steps like a crazy woman, burstinto the room weeping and moaning and sobbing. 

The usual cries of, "What on earth is the matter?" "Lord 'a'mercy--what has happened?" were forthcoming. Walter noticed, too, thatthe customary glass of water was offered and drunk, and that properefforts were being made to get the unhappy one to "calm herself. "

Juffrouw Laps began her story with the positive assurance that itwas impossible for her to utter a word. 

It seemed, therefore, that the affair was something important. Walterpulled on one of his stockings and prepared to listen. 

"I swear, Juffrouw Pieterse, by the omnipotent God, that I'm sofrightened and excited that I can't talk. "

"Goodness!"

"Where are your children? In bed? Not all of them, I hope. Really, I can't speak. Give me another glass of water, Trudie. Listen, howmy teeth are chattering. That comes from fright, doesn't it? I'm ina tremble all over. Thank you, Trudie. Where's--Stoffel?"

"He's undressing, " said Juffrouw Pieterse. "He goes to bed beforeme and Pietro. Mina makes so much noise, you know; and Trudie muststay with the boys to keep them from fighting. That's why I sleepwith Pietro, you see. Stoffel undresses himself, and then he drawsthe curtain when he hears us on the steps. But why----"

"How that concerns me, you mean? To be sure. I'm just beside myselffrom fright! And is--Laurens in bed too?"

"Of course! A long time already. He has to go to the printing-houseearly. "

"All in bed! And I--I run through the streets, wretched, crazy, and don't know what to do. Is everybody in bed?--everybody?"

"But what has happened?"

"I'm going to tell you, Juffrouw Pieterse. Oh, if you only knew howfrightened I am!"

Consideration of acoustics now led Walter to put on his other stocking. 

"You know, Juffrouw Pieterse, that of late so much stealing has beengoing on. "

"Yes, but----"

"And burglary and murder! And the police can't catch anybody. You knowthe old woman and the servant-girl who were murdered in Lommer Street. "

"But three are already behind the bars for it. What more do you want?"

"That's all right; the murderers are running around scot-free. They'velocked up three fellows just to keep the people from thinking toomuch. They don't want anybody to ask, 'What are the police for?' Yousee what I mean? I tell you that such a low-down rascal, who commitsa murder and steals lots of money, cannot hide his bloody clothes;nor the money, either. He's not used to having so much money. Allthe neighbors know his coat and breeches; and such a man hasn't anytrunk where he can hide his things. He doesn't know how to manage withdrafts and notes; and he don't know enough to get away to a foreigncountry. As for friends to help him get rid of the stolen things, he hasn't any. I tell you, Juffrouw Pieterse, a murder or a robbery, when they don't catch the murderer right away--then some respectableperson has done it, who has more clothes and boxes and presses andlinen--and he has friends among bankers. A common fellow would sticka hundred thousand florins in the bread-box, and the children wouldfind it when they went to slip a slice of bread and butter. What doyou say, Trudie?"

Trudie was not versed in criminal statistics and had never reflectedon the matter. At least Walter heard no answer. Curiosity compelledhim to draw on his trousers. 

"But, " he heard his mother saying again, "what has happened to you?"

"What has happened? I am beside myself. Don't you see how I'mtrembling? The city is full of murderers!"

"My goodness! How can I help it?"

"You can't. But I am beside myself, and I want to ask your advice. Dothey all go to bed so early?--Stoffel--and Laurens--all of them? Look, how I'm shaking. Do you suppose I dare go back to my room?"

"Why not? Do you think you're going to be murdered?"

"Yes. I do think it! The murderers of that old woman and of theservant-girl are still on the war-path. Yesterday at the illuminationhow many watches did they steal? And the police--what do theydo? Nothing, nothing! Yes, they watch you to see if you beat a rugin the morning after ten o'clock. That's what the police do. Theydon't bother murderers. "

"What do you know about the murderers? It's your duty to report themif you know them. "

Walter put on his vest and wrapped his muffler around his neck. 

"What I know about them! They are besieging me in my own house. Isn'tthat pretty rough? I went out at noon to see the boat race on theAmstel; but there was nothing to see, because there was no wind. Andsuch a crowd! All the kings were there, and the visiting princesand princesses, you know; and everybody stared at the carriages, and I did too. Not that I care anything about a king. Goodness, no! For he is only a worm in God's hand, and when the Master doesn'taid him--all is vanity, vanity. Dust and ashes--that's all. But Ilooked at the carriages, you know, and at the horses, and at thestaring crowd. I thought to myself, I will fry the potatoes when Igo home. They had been left over from dinner; and when there are anypotatoes left over, you know, I always fry them for supper. There wasa big crowd, and all were mad because there was no wind; for peopleare foolish about pleasure and never think of the Master. Worldly, worldly, they were--and the princes and princesses. I thought, well, it's no wonder that there's so much robbery and murder; for they tryGod's patience. I thought, God will punish you; He's only abidingHis time. He always does it, Juffrouw Pieterse! A lady--the creaturehad red pimples on her face, and was older than you--what do yousuppose she had on her head? A turban! She rode in a carriage withfour horses. What do you think of that? She was playing with a fan;and, when a prince rode up to her carriage, she stuck out her handand let the fan go up and down three times. And the prince did thatway three times. Were they crazy, or not? What will the Master sayto that? If He only doesn't send a pestilence on us!"

"Yes, but the murderers--what did they do to you?"

"Why, certainly--what they did? I am going to tell you. I'm stilltrembling. I had sliced my potatoes, put them on a saucer and setthem away in the cupboard. Then I thought, I will fry them when I comehome; for I didn't expect to stay long in the crowd, for I have beensaved by grace and don't care for worldly things--ah, dear JuffrouwPieterse, you must call Stoffel, so he can hear what has happened. "

Stoffel was already on his way down; and Walter was glad of it. Walterhad heard the noise Stoffel was making putting on his clothes in theadjoining booth, and upon this he builded hopes that he too mightbe allowed to go down, where he could hear the exciting story betterthan was possible through the cracks in the floor. In the meantime hehad completely dressed himself. The noises below told him of Stoffel'sarrival in the sitting-room. He heard the usual greetings and JuffrouwLaps's solemn assurance that she was still in such a tremble thatshe couldn't say a word. Then he heard her ask immediately whereLaurens was. 

Laurens? Well, he was asleep. 

That youth's absence seemed to trouble the visitor. She couldn'tproceed. Was it really necessary for Laurens to be present?

"What do you say, Stoffel? Isn't the city full of thieves andmurderers?"

Stoffel drew in his upper lip and tried to make the lower one touchhis nose. Let the reader try the same; then he will know how Stoffelanswered, and what his answer meant. 

Juffrouw Laps pretended to believe that he had said "yes. "

"Don't you see, Stoffel says so too! The city is full of thieves andmurderers, and--a respectable person is afraid to go to bed aloneany more. It's just that way. "

"But--Juffrouw!"

"The police? Nonsense! What good do the police do, when peopledon't believe in God? That's the truth. Whoever doesn't do that islost. Human help--I cannot understand at all why Laurens goes to bed soearly. You surely know that so much sleep isn't good for anybody. Whatdoes the Bible say? Watch and pray! But--everyone according to hisnotion. I swear before God that I don't dare to go home alone and----"

Walter's curiosity was at high tension. In order to hear better hewas leaning over, supporting himself with the chair. The point ofsupport was unsteady. The chair slipped and rattled across the floor, crashing into another piece of furniture. 

"Heaven and earth! What are they up to now, " groaned themother. "Laurens, is that you?"

Walter peeped in, "It was me. " The result was that he was soon in themidst of the interesting conversation that he had been trying to hearfrom above. 

His entrance took place under unfavorable circumstances. He was blamedfor not having been undressed. 

"Do you always put on your nightcap before you undress?" criedthe mother. 

The boy had actually forgotten to take off his nightcap. He was soashamed that he felt he would like to fall through the floor. Hewould rather have neglected anything else. 

"And--what have you there?"

Alas, our hero looked more ridiculous than anyone could look by simplyputting on a nightcap. He had armed himself with an old rusty knifethat his father had used in prehistoric times for cutting leather!

During the whole of the Laps recital, which progressed so slowly, he had thought and hoped and intended--yes, he heard something thatsounded like, "Where is Walter?" The speaker really did not say it--no, on the contrary, those were the very words she wished to avoid--still, he thought he heard her say them. On this Friday he had acted meanand cowardly; but he was still Walter. 

Murderers? Thieves? A lady in danger? What other answer could therebe but: "I am here, I, Walter!"

Oh, fate, why did you put that sword in his hand and let him forgetto remove that nightcap? Why didn't you divide these two absurditiesbetween Stoffel and Walter! Or why couldn't you put that featherydiadem on the head of the sleeping Laurens? It would have been allthe same to him how he looked in his sleep. 

Walter was in a rage. 

And I am, too. Towards Femke his chivalry had remained in thebackground; and now it must burst forth at a doubtful call fromJuffrouw Laps!

In his anger he threw the weapon down violently and allowed it torebound across the room. He slapped the nightcap on the table. 

No one would have thought that the little man could be so vehement. Hismother, with her usual solicitousness, inquired into the conditionof his mind, asking if he was only cracked, or downright crazy. 

"I tell you, " said the visitor, "you ought not to worry that childso much. "

"Go to bed at once!" cried the mother. 

"Why can't you let the child stay here? But--oh, yes! I was going totell you about my potatoes. "

Walter stayed. For this privilege he was indebted to the generalcuriosity. 

"Just imagine, when I came home about half past ten o'clock--I couldn'tget away earlier on account of the crush, you know. Don't you know, I don't care for these big occasions. Well, when I got home--the cityis full of thieves, murderers, and that must not be forgotten--well, my potatoes were--what do you think my potatoes were? They were--gone!"

"Gone?"

"Gone!"

"All gone?"

"All gone!"

"Your potatoes--gone?"

"My potatoes--all completely gone!"

"But----"

"I tell you those thieves and murderers did it. Who else could havedone it? Thieves and murderers in my house! And I wanted to askyou--for I'm afraid in my room----"

Walter's eyes fairly shone. 

"I wanted to ask, if perhaps--your son Stoffel----"

Stoffel's face was a study, a curiosity. If the said thieves andmurderers could have seen it they would have been greatly pleased, for it bore evidence of Stoffel's intention to leave them undisturbedin their work. 

"But, Juffrouw, " he said, "haven't you a cat in your room?"

"A cat? A cat to fight murderers with!"

"No, Juffrouw, not to fight murderers; but a cat that might haveeaten the potatoes. "

"I don't know anything about a cat. I only know that the city isfull of low-down people when so many murders are committed and no onetries to catch the murderers. Not that I am anxious about my life--no, not at all. When the Master calls me I shall say, 'Let thy daughtergo in peace; my eyes have seen thy glory. '"

"But, woman, why didn't you look in your closet, and under the bed?"

"I didn't want to do that, Juffrouw Pieterse! The Lord will take careof me--but one must not try the Lord's patience. I would not go in thecloset, or look under the bed--not for everything in the world! For ofcourse he's there, and that's why I wanted to ask if your son--Stoffel, or, if Stoffel doesn't want to, if perhaps your son--Laurens, or----"

"But, Juffrouw, why didn't you call the neighbors?"

Thus spoke Stoffel. 

"The neighbors? Well, I guess they know about it. The man who livesunder me is afraid of a poodle-dog, not to mention a murderer. There'sa man living next to me; but, you know, he is--what shall I say--heis a sort of bachelor, and I don't want to get talked about. Youknow a woman must always think of her reputation, and not get mixedup in gossip. "

It did not occur to anyone to ask what sort of a creature Stoffelwas. Was he a bachelor? Or did his position as a teacher protect himagainst any worldly suspicion?

"And, besides, " continued the seductive Laps, "do you think allmen have courage? No! They're as afraid of a thief as they are ofdeath. Last week an insolent beggar was on the steps, and the fellowwouldn't leave. Do you think the men did anything to him? Scared todeath! But, I tell you, I got hold of him in a hurry and----"

She had gone too far, and she saw it. 

"Well, I would have done that if I hadn't been a woman; for a womanmust never use violence. It isn't becoming. What do you say, Trudie? Iran and shut my door. Wasn't that right? No, none of the men-folkhas any courage!"

None of the men-folk! Walter felt insulted. He was swelling withsuppressed courage; he was eager for a fray. At least, he was eager toshow that he was an exception to Juffrouw Laps's general indictment. Ofcourse Juffrouw Laps noticed this. 

"Well, if Stoffel doesn't want to----"

"To tell the truth, I----"

"And if Laurens is already asleep--and if--if no one else will----"

She arose. 

"Then I suppose I must, relying upon God, go alone. But it's horriblefor a woman to be entirely alone!"

She looked at them all in turn, all except the one she was talkingto. Walter felt that he was being forgotten, or overlooked. This onlyincreased his latent courage and made him burn with a desire to benumbered with the knighthood of the house. 

"Yes, if there's nobody here who's not afraid----"

"I'm not afraid!"

All but Juffrouw Laps were surprised. She was a good psychologist, and had not expected anything else. It was her part, however, topretend to be as much surprised as any of the rest. 

"You?"

"You, Walter?"

"Boy, are you crazy? You?"

"Yes, I. I'm not afraid; not if there were ten in the closet and ahundred under the bed!"

A little Luther! But with a difference. Luther had a God in whomhe felt he could trust--reinforced by a few grand-dukes. Walter, without any grand-dukes, was ready to enter the field against a Godwho was allowing any number of murderers to take shelter under theroof and bed of Juffrouw Laps. 

"Boy!"

"I'll risk it. "

"Let him go, Juffrouw Pieterse. You understand--it's company for meto have such a child with me. Then I'm not frightened so badly, if amurderer is in the closet. Nobody wants to be entirely alone. Isn'tthat so?"

Juffrouw Laps gained her point: Walter was permitted to go with her. 

It was principally their vanity that caused the Pieterses to consentso readily to Juffrouw Laps's request and allow her to take Walteraway to act as her castellan. Not one of them felt that it was agood thing for Walter to go with the Juffrouw; but they were allproud of his courage. The story would get noised abroad, and peoplewould pass it on to their friends. Juffrouw Pieterse would see toit that the people knew it was "the same young gentlemen, you know, that went home with Dr. Holsma. "

Yes, and then people would say: "There's something in those Pietersechildren. "

Mothers like to hear such things. 

With his package under his arm Walter marched away with JuffrouwLaps to do battle for that pious lady. That prehistoric weapon heleft behind, on her assuring him that she had a well-filled storeof weapons and ammunition enough to kill all the murderers that hewould have occasion to contend with. 

CHAPTER XXVII

Walter shuddered as he crossed Juffrouw Laps's threshold. He reflected, and wondered how he could have entered upon this knightly expeditionwithout considering certain details connected with it and inseparablefrom it. 

The first thing she offered him, of course, was the fried potatoes, that dainty dish which the murderers had greedily made away with!

Walter was beginning to feel that the game wasn't worth the candle. Theadventure didn't offer sufficient outlet for his chivalry. In fact, he thought something other than chivalry was necessary to facesingle-handed and alone those fried potatoes and Juffrouw Laps'spersistent attentions. 

"Make yourself at home and eat all you want. Don't be a bitembarrassed. Or would you rather take off your coat first? You know, you're to stay all night with me. "

Walter preferred to keep on his coat for the present. 

"And I have a dram for you, too, my boy--something extra. It'sfrom Fockink's. You know where he has his distillery, there in thatnarrow street. You must never pass along there. Bad women live inthat street. They stand at the doors and windows, don't you know;and that isn't good for a bachelor like you. "

Walter, the "bachelor, " looked surprised. He was abashed; though hewas not displeased. This promotion was more flattering than going into"business. "

Still, he was embarrassed. Juffrouw Laps found it desirable, therefore, to continue along this line. 

"Certainly, Walter, you're a bachelor. Don't you know that? It's onlybecause at home they treat you like a child. I tell you, you're abachelor, just as much so as anybody else. Do you think I like Stoffelas well as I do you? No, no, no! Not a bit of it! I like you lotsbetter. Don't you want a pipe to smoke? You are man enough for that. Ofcourse you are; and why shouldn't you smoke a pipe like other men?"

Men, men!

Walter answered that he couldn't smoke yet. It cost him an effort tomake the admission; but his first attempt to equal Stoffel in thatrespect had turned out badly. 

"So? You don't smoke?" She omitted his "yet. "

"Well, it's a good thing. It's a stupid habit in men. And forever theterrible smoke! I know other young gentlemen who do not smoke. Forinstance, there is Piet Hammel. He's as old as you, but a littlesmaller. He's going to marry a cousin of mine; and he doesn't smokeeither. "

Walter felt better now. He was interested. 

"Yes, they're going to get married about--well, I don't know exactlywhen. But they intend to marry. I tell you, you are a real bachelor;and it's awfully stupid of them still to treat you like a child. I'vetold your mother so a hundred times. There on the street just now, when we were together--I'm a delicate woman; but do you think Iwas afraid?--with you with me? Not a bit. Not a trace of fear. Andwhy? Because everybody could see that I had a man with me. I oughtto have taken hold of your arm--you're almost taller than I am--butI didn't do it because you had a package. And then--the people talkso much! The watchman might have seen it, and he would have spreadthe news broadcast that I had been seen at night with a gentleman. "

With a gentleman! Walter was listening. 

"A woman must always think of her reputation. But we're here at homenow, and that's very different, entirely different. I know that ofcourse you wouldn't tell anything bad about me. Whoever tells anythingbad on a woman isn't a true gentleman. You know that. "

Yes, Walter knew it. He understood Juffrouw Laps better than sheimagined. 

"What I wanted to say was, you must never go through that street. Solong as you were a child, it made no difference. But now! Let me fillyour glass for you. "

Walter drank. 

O Fancy, my muse, where art thou?

"How do you like it?"

Walter owned that the liquor had a pleasant taste. 

Satan's handmaid filled the glasses again. They were "so small, "really "mere thimbles. "

"And you must eat something, dearest. Oh, I have always thought somuch of you! It's good for you to have a little dram like that. "

Walter began to eat. 

"Just take off your coat; there's nobody here but us. "

Quite so. Walter did take off his coat. 

"And I'm going to sit close to you, for you are a dear, good, sweet boy. "

Fancy, Fancy!

The liquor was strong, and Walter drank more of it than was goodfor him. He lost some of his modesty, and hardly knew what he wassaying to the talkative Juffrouw, as she asked questions from timeto time. She was not quite satisfied with the way things were going, but hoped for the best. 

Occasionally Walter found time to wonder why he was there, what thepurpose of the enforced visit might be. His hostess seemed to haveforgotten all about those thieves and murderers; and when he remindedher of them, she showed a spirit of valor that did him good. For heand his valor were undone. 

"I will do them! Do you think I'm afraid of such a fellow? Well, I guess not. Not afraid of three of them. I wouldn't be afraid often of them--I'm not afraid of the whole world. I will do them. "

All the better, thought Walter; for then he wouldn't have to "do" them. 

They now heard something rustling around in the closet, or else theyimagined they heard something. Walter was frightened. He was a perfectchild again. 

"Stay here, and I will see what it is, " cried the Juffrouw. "Doyou think I would let them beat you, or stab you, or murder you, my boy! Never! Whoever touches you will have to walk over me. But Iwill give them all they need. "

She went out, taking the light with her, to see what was the matter--ifanything. She was careful to leave Walter in the dark long enough forhim to wish for her return. The tables were being turned. A littlemore, and the boy would seek protection under her apron. 

"But, Juffrouw----"

"I will let you call me Christine. That's my name. "

This was too much for Walter. He preferred to avoid addressing herdirectly. 

"But hadn't I better go home now?"

"Not at all. You don't want to leave me, do you? You know your motheris in bed asleep now. Besides, it was understood that you were tospend the night here and take breakfast with me. "

Breakfast! The boy hadn't been doing anything else for an hour. Wasthat to continue till morning?

"I'll tell you what! Just undress yourself; and you needn't be a bitashamed before me. I will make down a pallet for you there in thecorner. When I'm here alone--just a woman--with all the thieves androbbers--oh, it's so horrible!"

Walter did not dare to say no; nor did he dare to do what was proposedso enticingly. He hesitated. 

She talked sweetly and persuaded him. 

He began to----

The child was as if hypnotized. 

O Fancy, Fancy! Where art thou?

CHAPTER XXVIII

It will be remembered that on this significant Friday a boat-racehad been arranged for the amusement of the visiting princes andprincesses. It had to be called off on account of a disinclinationon the side of the wind to fill its part of the program, or rather, to fill the sails. For it was to have been a "sail. " Rowing was notin style then; it was not considered dignified and manly. Besides, the boats were not built to be propelled in this way. 

The boat-race had been canceled; but the crowd remained, and continuedto discharge its enthusiasm for royalty till a late hour. It was agreat day; and the populace perspired and shouted and howled. 

It was so hot that kings and princesses perspired like ordinarymortals. They flourished fans indolently. At that time there was aspecial kind of fan: "joujoux de Normandie. "

It was observed that the old countess-palatine manipulated her fan moreelegantly than anyone else. No doubt it was through this "gentle art"that she exerted her greatest influence on humanity. 

Gradually the carriages of the distinguished guests disappeared, and the knightly horsemen tired of the saddle. The day drew to aclose. The populace pushed and crowded and sang and hurrahed anddrank. Fireworks were discharged, to express, so the newspapers said, the inexpressible love of the people for princes and princesses. 

Oh, those firecrackers, and the danger in them! Quick, quick--throwit--a second longer and it will burst in your hand--hurrah!

It was magnificent--the danger and thrilling anxiety. There wasa tradition that somebody had once held a firecracker in his handtoo long and had been badly hurt by it. This traditional "somebody"was now inspiring the revelers with fresh enthusiasm. 

So it was on that evening, before the city authorities had prohibitedthe use of fireworks. After the houses had been covered with slate, it was thought that there was too much danger of fire in firecrackers, but on that evening, when the houses still had thatch roofs, thedangerous pleasure of Amsterdam youth was unrestrained. 

And the other dangerous pleasures! How many lasses went home with theirskirts singed, some of them hardly getting home at all. Interestingadventures! And a boy--"those boys have to have their noses ineverything"--yes, a youth came very near getting a load in hisface. Thrilling delight!

The crowd was now in the street where Juffrouw Laps resided. Thereader will recall that Walter was spending the night with her. 

Boom! went a gun, or a cannon-cracker; and Walter awoke just as hisaffectionate hostess and religious adviser was going to give hima kiss. 

Juffrouw Laps had burned her sinful lips. "Lord have mercy on us, what is that!" she cried. 

Both ran to the open window. Ordinarily a respectable Hollandish girlnever leaves her window open at night; but the extreme heat of theevening must be urged in Juffrouw Laps's favor. 

It was clear to them at once that they had not been fired upon bythose "murderers, " for nobody paid any attention to them or showed anyinterest in them. Other windows were open, as well; and on all sidespeople were looking out. Right and left a cannonade of firecrackerswas going on. 

In the interest of privacy Juffrouw Laps took the precaution to blowout the light as quickly as possible. Another might have neglectedthis. 

Walter looked down on it all with the delight of a child. He forgotthe insistent kindness of his hostess; he thought of nothing butthe crowd below and their antics. The noise and tumult sobered him;and it even had a quieting effect on Juffrouw Laps. 

"How foolish the people are. They push one another hither and thitherand don't know themselves why they do it. "

"Click, click!" answered an enthusiast with a gun. He was in themidst of a bevy of girls, who scattered in an uproar. 

"They're all drunk, " said Juffrouw Laps. "I wish they would gohome. I'm tired--and it's two o'clock. "

"Just a little more!" begged Walter. "I'm not tired--not a bit!"

"I'm afraid you're catching cold. For you know, the night air aftera hot day--well, put on your cap, dearest. I wouldn't have this nightair to give you a cold for everything in the world. Look, there goesanother one. " It was a Roman candle. 

 "Amour à la plus belle. Honneur au plus vaillant----"

"Why don't they sing Dutch? Do you understand any of it?"

Walter knew something of the handsome Dunois, who slew so many Turksand received as his reward the daughter of the duke, his master. Howwould a knight be rewarded after he had already received one reward? Orhow would it have been if the master had had no daughter?

While Walter was asking his lady friend such difficult questions asthese, they heard an outburst of cries and abuse and oaths below. Areaction had set in. It was a perfect riot. The crowd swayed firstone way then the other, according as one party or the other was inthe ascendency. 

Non-combatants were pushing their way out; combatants, themselvescrowded, were crowding others. Cries of "help" were heard. Mothers, with babies in their arms, attested their fear; women in delicatehealth made their condition known. 

The press was worst on the corner, whither the revelers were streamingfrom three directions. Here was located a popular restaurant anddrinking-place, which was probably the destination of the stream comingfrom Amstel Street. The second stream, coming from Utrecht Street, evidently had the same objective in view. The strongest currentwas flowing from the belligerent group, which was now squeezed intoclose quarters. 

From his recent experience Walter knew what it meant to be in such amob. Whoever fell was walked over. But it really wasn't so bad as that:to fall was impossible. The danger was in being crowded off the streetinto basements, where limbs and necks might be easily broken. In thisrespect there was more danger than there had been the evening beforein Kalver Street. 

"Christian souls!" cried Juffrouw Laps. "I'm getting right sick atthe stomach. "

Walter's condition was about the same. All at once he seized herarm. He thought that he saw somebody--somebody who looked like----

"That's right, dear. Hold fast to me. It's simply death and murder!"

Walter did not say anything. 

"Isn't it enough to run anybody crazy?" continued the dearJuffrouw. "Hold fast to me, and remember that I am your Christine. "

He was remembering something else. 

"Don't be afraid--Lord, that child's beside himself--nobody shallhurt you. I will take care of you. "

He held on to her arm all the tighter; otherwise he was as if turnedto stone. 

"I wouldn't pay any attention to it, sweetheart. But--it is badenough. Do you see that girl there with the North Holland cap on? Iwouldn't like to be in her place. "

"It is--Femke! O God, it is Femke!"

Shaking off Juffrouw Laps, who attempted to hold him back, he rusheddown the steps and in a few minutes was in the thickest of the fray. 

He fought his way through the crowd like a mad-man, soon reaching thepoint where he had seen Femke. She, however, had disappeared. A manwith flashy cap and sailor's jacket, who from above had looked likeher escort, was still contending with the crowd. It seemed as if thetwo had come arm in arm through Amstel Street. 

"Is there a girl here with a North Holland cap on?"

The man was too busy fighting and wrestling for standing-room to makeanswer. Meanwhile, Walter noticed that the fellow was strugglingtoward the "Herberge, " and concluded that his lady must have takenrefuge there. 

Walter paid no more attention to the punches and blows he received. Hewas only concerned to give as many blows as were necessary to hastenhis arrival at the restaurant. The place was about as badly crowdedas the street, but there was no fighting going on. 

Yes, Walter had made a good beginning: yesterday in the "PolishCoffeehouse, " to-day in the "Juniper Berry"--thrown in there, fightinghis way in here. 

He was in the restaurant at last, looking for Femke. Now he thoughtthat he had discovered her, standing on a step, or something of thekind. With lips tightly closed, her arms crossed, the girl was lookingquietly down on the multitude as if in silent contempt. The rim wastorn from her cap and was hanging down. Walter thought that he evensaw blood on her face--Femke's dear face!

He was exhausted and could not reach her. He looked at her. She didnot see him. 

She stood there proud and haughty. He called to her. She did not hear. 

"O God! she despises me. I deserve it for my cowardice at Holsma's. "

"Boy, " said the woman behind the bar, "we don't have any bellowinghere. If you want to bellow go to your mother. "

Easier said than done. He couldn't move a peg, such was the press. Hewas shoved against the counter; and it was impossible for him to keepsight of Femke. The tears began to roll down his cheeks. 

"What are you doing in such a crowd anyway?" continued the woman, "when you're so weak. You look as flimsy as a dish-rag. What haveyou been doing? Let me give you a glass of cognac. "

He would have been only too glad to pay for his place; but, as he"received at home everything that he needed, " he did not havethe wherewithal. Still, there was no danger of his being thrownout. The crowd, which was threatening to expend its remainingenergy in destroying the liquids of the place, was now occupying thebarmaid's attention. I should say Mrs. Goremest's attention. She wasthe proprietress. 

The girl continued to hold her position of advantage. There wassomething scornful in her features. "Who dares!" she seemed to say. 

Walter was feeling bad. She looked over in his direction, but withoutseeing him. He called; but she did not hear. 

Then the fellow with the flashy cap and sailor jacket appeared in thedoor. He had not been one of the belligerents; but he had sufferedthe fate of neutral powers. As his clothing testified, both partieshad been his enemies. 

So intent was the fellow on getting in that he did not even take timeto return the shoves and cuffs that he received. Twice, three timeshe was crowded back; for where so many want the same thing, it isn'teasy to obtain. Nevertheless, he had one advantage over the others, who sought only a resting-place and a glass of liquor. He was incitedby something else. 

Walter hoped with all his heart that the fellow would succeed inreaching Femke. She looked so lonely in the midst of that wild mob. Ifhe had been stronger, he would have--but she wouldn't have anything todo with him. Wouldn't she push him off, just as she did the insolentfellow who first caught hold of her apron?

The girl seemed now to spy the sailor. She nodded to him and smiled, as if to encourage him. Or was she thanking him for his fidelity? Hersmile bore the message that she was uninjured, and fearless. Yes, she stood there a statute of repose. 

The sailor nodded back. 

He would never have denied her, Walter thought. 

Mrs. Goremest happened to see the new arrival; and, from the way shegreeted him, he seemed to be a frequent visitor to her place:

"Hello, Klaas. Are you there too? You're out of breath, aren't you?"

She gave orders to let him through, and even came out a few stepsand helped open up the way for him. 

Thus it happened that Klaas Verlaan found standing-room at the counternot far from Walter. 

"Well, they've made the most of you!"

He saw it the same way. He was never certain of a moment's recreationbefore bedtime. Walter, as well as the girl who still maintained herelevated position in the corner, agreed with the bar-woman's verdict. 

"Had a good day?" continued the woman. "It was bad about theboat-race. "

Klaas placed his finger on his mouth, as if he were going to tellher a secret. He wanted to tell of an adventure with Princess Erika. 

"A glass of corn?" translated the bar-woman, but without guessingthe right thing. 

"Half and half?"

"Nor that either. "

"Red?"

This time Klaas was particularly dainty and hard to please. He declinedregularly whatever she suggested and continued to exert himself todraw her into a more confidential talk. He had had the pleasure ofpulling Princess Erika out of the water. 

On the outside they were still singing, "Amour à la plus belle. "

"The devil take those Welsh songs!" cried one of the drinkers. "Weare Dutchmen forever!"

"Yes, we are Dutchman forever----"

"And our prince----"

"Sh!"

"I will sing what I please; and, if anybody doesn't want to sing"--hestruck himself on the chest, and the whole party was Dutch andenthusiastic over royalty. "Our Prince" was sung lustily, and toa finish. 

"Hurrah!"

"Yes, when we were still true Dutchmen----"

"Yes, when we were still true Dutchmen----"

"And under the republic!"

"Long live the republic!"

"You all ought to have seen a yacht-race then. "

"And our prince----"

"Under the republic all men were equal. "

"Equal. No difference at all. "

"Down with the tyrants!"

"They're not a bit better than we are!"

"They suck the life out of the people. "

"Yes, they bleed us. "

"And why? Because you're all cowardly dogs. "

"Yes, they're all cowardly dogs. "

"You put your necks under the yoke. "

"Whenever a king comes around, or an emperor, or a prince, then allof you are so frightened you tremble like an aspen leaf. "

"Yes, like an aspen leaf!"

"If you fellows were----"

"All men are born free. "

"Yes, we were born free and equal. "

"And true Dutch hearts--what say you, Mrs. Goremest? What do you think, that's a daughter of M'neer----"

The name died on the speaker's lips. He became pale. 

"A daughter of M'neer----!"

"Certainly. Ask Verlaan. "

Verlaan nodded. 

"Is that so, Klaas? Really and truly? Why then does she stand theredressed that way--like an ordinary girl?"

"Oh, those clothes came from my Gertie, you know. Rich people have----"

"Come, boys, we must go home now. Mother Goremest needs sleep, too. We are not made of iron; we are flesh and blood. "

"Down with the tyrants! We were born free. True Dutch hearts----"

"Sh! The young lady----"

"What? That girl? What then?"

"Sh! The daughter of--but don't say a word. Damme if it isn't so--thedaughter of M'neer--Kopperlith!"

"Kopperlith on Keizersgracht? What are you talking about, man! Kopperlith--on Keizersgracht!"

"Yes, of course. Come, we're going. "

"His daughter? His----natural daughter?"

"That's right. You understand it now; but keep quiet about it. "

The true Dutch hearts and republicans paid and left the bar. 

It was a sudden whim of Klaas Verlaan's to make his ward a child ofKeizersgracht; but it brought him in more ducats than he cared toadmit afterward. 

Kopperlith? Kopperlith? on Keizersgracht? Femke on Keizersgracht! Andon the day after to-morrow he was to begin work for this wealthygentleman. 

His head swam. Was he still Walter Pieterse? He doubted it. Beforehe had quite come to himself, he was forced through the door withother late stragglers. It was time for Mrs. Goremest to close. 

The street was comparatively quiet now. Walter remained near the"Herberge, " which to him was a sort of temple where his Goddess wasbeing worshiped. Now and then somebody else was pitched out the door, who would have been glad to stay longer. It was not every day thatone got an opportunity to see a daughter of M'neer Kopperlith. Somewanted to join the triumvirate of Verlaan, the republican speaker, and Mrs. Goremest; but the three felt themselves strong enough to dothe work and share the rewards. 

At last the outflow ceased, and Walter was just going to peep throughthe curtains of the glass door, when the door opened again and therepublican emerged. Walter heard Klaas call to him:

"There on the corner in Paarden Street, you know. If it costs a dollarmore, that's all right. Tell the cabby----"

Walter understood. The republican was to get a cab--for Femke?

Walter waited. In the meanwhile, Mrs. Goremest had locked the door anddrawn the curtains, so that it was impossible for him to look in now. 

In a short time a carriage drove up, and the republican sprang outof it. The door of Mrs. Goremest's establishment opened again, andKlaas Verlaan with the ostensible daughter of Kopperlith appeared. 

"Femke, I am here!" Walter cried, hurrying to her. "I am here. Oh, Femke, don't go with the strange men!"

"What in the devil are you doing here again!" snorted Verlaan, seizingWalter by the collar to pull him back into the restaurant. "What doyou want? And who are you?"

"Femke, don't go with the strange men. I will take you home, I, Walter. "

"The boy is weak in the upper story, " affirmed Mrs. Goremest. "He'sbeen bellowing around her the whole evening like a calf, and he hasn'tspent a doit. "

Walter reached for Femke's hand; and then he noticed how curiouslyshe was rigged out. She was completely covered. Of her head, face, shoulders, figure--nothing was to be seen. Mrs. Goremesthad contributed her cloak; but what would one not do for aKopperlith? Still, she was saving: Only the stump of one tallowcandle was burning. It flickered strangely, giving to everything aghostly appearance. 

"Is it you, Erich?" the girl asked. 

"Femke, Femke, for God's sake, don't go with those strange men!"

Tearing himself away from Verlaan, he threw himself at Femke's feet. Hepulled aside her cloak and covered her hand with tears and kisses. 

"Just like I tell you, " declared Mrs. Goremest. "The boy is as crazyas a bedbug. "

"Femke, I will never deny you again. Strike me, tread on me, kill me, but--don't go with those strange men. "

"Light!" cried the girl peremptorily--a word that even a Dutchmanunderstands. 

The republican took the candle from the counter and held it so thatthe light fell on Walter's face. The boy was still kneeling. Throughan opening in her hood the girl looked down on him and was silent. Shedid not withdraw the hand that Walter held closely pressed to his lips. 

Verlaan made a motion as if to remove the intruder; but the girlstopped him with a look. Then she laid her free hand on Walter's head, saying simply:

"My brother!"

"Another descendant of Kopperlith!" growled the republican. The youngpeople have strange ideas about how to spend the night. "

When Walter came to his senses, he was in the street again. Thecarriage had driven away--whether with her, or without her; whetherwith the two men, or without them--that he did not know. It madeno difference to him: she had called him "brother, " seriously, solemnly. She had spoken clearly and distinctly. 

"O God! I thank thee. Thou art kind and compassionate. I didn'tknow that Femke could speak like that. She must have felt it down inher heart. "

To-morrow, he thought, he would become immensely wealthy--in"business"--and, of course, he was going to be a king again, andstill more: For Femke he would be more than a brother! Juffrouw Lapshad awakened in him--well, something, he did not know himself what itwas. His heart rejoiced; he walked upon stilts, as tired as he was, and wondered that his head did not bump against the clouds. 

CHAPTER XXIX

For anyone in Walter's present mood, there are only two things inthe world; self, and--nothingness!

Walter looked about him. "Butter Market, " he read on a sign. He noticedthat in the street socks could be bought, wagons hired, etc. , etc. 

But what did it all mean? Nothing. He had kissed Femke's hand!

It is too bad that the world did not sink out of existence on thatsummer night. 

If Walter had noticed such an occurrence, he might have asked ifFemke was hurt; otherwise the phenomenon would not have disturbed him. 

The reader will understand, of course, that on this eventful nightthe world did not go down. 

Walter forgave the sun for rising. He even excused the Butter Marketfor being such a hot place; but it was difficult for him to convincehimself that it was not all a dream. 

A new feeling took possession of him. His ambitious plans of a materialnature receded into the background of consciousness. His one desirenow was to love Femke--and win her love. Those continents that wereexpecting salvation from him might wait. 

He thought of Femke and her soft hand. Never had her hand felt likethat. Formerly it had seemed harder and rougher; but, of course, he had just been mistaken about it. He imagined, too, that hithertohe had not marked her voice well, nor her carriage. Surely, he hadnever seen the true Femke till to-night--better, this morning. 

But--Klaas Verlaan and his rough companions! What did all thatgab about M'neer Kopperlith mean? There were other questions too;but--Femke had called him brother; and that was one thing which withhim was as firm as the rock of Gibraltar. 

Brooding thus, he slipped along through the streets. Weak and tired, he came to the "Dam. " Here he saw a long row of carriages. Thecoachmen sat in their places waiting for the princely guests, whohad wanted to see a Holland sunrise. The sun was already in sight;but there were no princes and princesses to see him. A few laborerswere looking on indifferently. 

Yesterday Walter would have exerted himself to see a live, fullgrownking, just to find out if he looked like Macbeth, or Arthur, orLear. To-day he was so tired that kings did not interest him. 

He was just starting on, when the coachmen suddenly assumed a rigidattitude. A boy remarked that "they" were coming now. He was right:they did come; and all, except one old lady, drove away so rapidly thatscarcely anyone saw them. She touched her coachman on the shoulder. 

"She has forgotten something, " said the boy. 

Three or four cavaliers stormed back into the palace and brought herfan. While they were gone, the boys wondered at the pimples on herface. Walter's pictures had had nothing of that kind. How differentFemke's face was!

Walter trudged along further; and, without thinking of where he wasgoing, he came to the meadow where Femke and her mother dried theirclothes. He sat down on the grass, intending to wait for the firstsigns of life in Femke's home. He was not certain that she was there;he did not know but that she might still be at Holsma's; but therewould be somebody there. 

Overcome by weariness he lay down and gradually fell asleep. His capcame off, rolled down into the ditch and disappeared in the mud. 

If anyone passed by, he remarked that there lay a drunken fellow. Yes, youth begins early. Possibly the fellow was sick; but then the policewould take care of him. Nobody hurt him; nobody touched him. Hisdreams were undisturbed. 

He dreamed of various things; but the principal object of his dreamswas a young girl, who was standing on a platform playing ball withheavy men, as if that were nothing. Suddenly it was little SietskeHolsma. 

Then in his dreams he heard a voice:

"Goodness, boy, how did you get here?"

At first the voice was far away, then nearer, and finally quitenear. He had the dim impression that somebody was pulling him up toa sitting posture. 

"Sietske!" he whispered, still sleeping. 

"Yes, that's my name. How did you know it?"

"Sietske----!"

"Why, certainly. Who told you? And what are you doing here. It isn'tvery respectable. Are you drunk? And so young, too. "

He called Sietske's name again. 

"You may call me by my first name, if you want to; but how does itcome? Did Femke tell you? It's a real disgrace to lie here like ahog. What were you going to say?"

Walter rubbed his eyes and felt of his head. "I would like to washmyself, " he said, not yet wide awake. 

"All right, " cried Mrs. Claus. "And you're not hurt, are you? Whereis your cap?"

"Wash--with cold water, " Walter said. 

"Good! Come to the pump with me. " She led him through the house andacross the back yard. 

"You needn't be afraid to undress here; nobody can see you. But howdid you happen to call me by my first name all at once. Not that I'moffended at all. "

Walter was still too much asleep to recall what had happened to himduring the past few hours; so he only said that he had a headacheand must wash himself first. 

Mrs. Claus, noticing that he was ashamed to undress, hung some quiltson the fence, thus converting the yard into a sort of room. It neveroccurred to her that her own presence might embarrass him. Walterwas still not quite pleased with the outlook for a bath; but sinceyesterday he had been thinking of other things as strange. 

He began to strip, allowing Mrs. Claus to help him, just as if hehad been fifteen years younger than he was. To Mrs. Claus he was onlya child. 

She laid him on a bench under the spout and began to pump. At the firstdrops he shivered; then the water flooded his head and shoulders. Hecould neither see nor speak. His efforts to speak she interpreted ascalls for more water. 

"Yes, this will be good for you. " Her words were drowned by thesplashing water. 

"You didn't hurt yourself, did you? Do you think that will be enoughnow? I've pumped till I've got a pain in my side. But if you thinkthat----"

She stopped all at once, but still held on to the pump handle, as ifto show her willingness to continue. 

"I forgot entirely to"--she began pumping again--"wash you off withgreen soap. Femke always washes herself with it. It makes the skinnice and smooth. --You ought to see your back now. It shines likea looking-glass. "

Walter wanted to say something but couldn't. 

"Yes, and your forehead, too. It's the green soap that does it. Iguess your mother never washes you with green soap, does she? Thenone must scour and scrub and rub. But, if you are not used to soap----"

She lifted that terrible pump handle again. 

"I believe this will be about enough, " Walter blubbered. His mouthwas so full of water that again Mrs. Claus did not understand him. 

"Green soap is good for corns, and for rheumatism. " She was pumpingaway for dear life. 

Walter finally succeeded in rescuing himself and the bench fromthat destructive stream of water. He was now able to make his criesfor mercy understood; but he was not yet able to get up. Besides, the good woman had hung his clothes out of his reach, and he wasashamed. He remained sitting. 

"Do you want anything else?" inquired the water nymph. 

"No, no, no!" he answered quickly. She was already lifting thepump-handle again. "But----"

The simple, innocent woman did not understand; and, when he continuedto sit there like a helpless lump of misery, she asked:

"Do you have a pain anywhere?"

"No, I haven't any pains. "

"Are you tired?"

He was still tired, and said so. 

"And I woke you up! I'll tell you what, you must go to sleep and takea good nap. "

She began drying him off, as if that were a usual thing in her day'swork. Then she rolled him up in a sheet and carried him off like a sackof clothes. He could not but notice the way she laid him down. Thenshe covered him warmly. 

"Straighten out your legs, my boy. "

Walter did as she said, and experienced an indescribable feeling ofcomfort. And when she punched him and patted him and tucked him in, and said: "Poor child, you can sleep good now. This is Femke's bed, you know----" then he was more than comfortable; he was delighted. 

When he awakened at about four o'clock in the afternoon he heardwhispering voices. He listened, at first to find out where he was, and then to understand what was being said. 

It seemed as if there were a plot further to confuse Sietske withFemke in his mind. 

"Yes, Sietske; but what does he mean by lying out like that? If Iwere his mother----"

The answer was:

"Cousin, I don't suppose his mother knows about it. Hermann did thesame thing once. That's the way boys are. "

Oho! Sietske was there; and Mrs. Claus was her cousin, and her namewas Sietske too! And that girl--there in Mrs. Goremest's place?

His thoughts became more and more confused; though physically hefelt well. 

How would it do, he thought, to tear a little piece out of the sheet, so as to be able to examine it to-morrow and make certain of himselfand his adventures?

If he had been accustomed to fine bedlinen at home, he might nowhave taken an especial pleasure in Mrs. Claus's extremely roughhomemade linen. Hm! He had always dreamed of princesses sleeping onembroidered silk, among diamonds and pearls! He did not yet know thatit is possible to conceive royal and imperial highnesses otherwiseat night, and that perhaps a princess might sometimes be willing totousle Femke's bed. 

He looked about the room. There was another small bed, where, hesupposed, Femke's mother slept. Across the room was the chimney. Herewere small shelves decorated with works of art. Walter noticed the"resurrection of Lazarus. " Four chairs were in the room. One wasstanding by his bed, and on it his clothes were carefully arranged. 

In the middle of the room stood a table; and the drawer was partlyopen. It was too full. Father Jansen's woolen socks were peepingout while they waited for repairs. Walter wondered if those otherobjectionable articles were there too. 

On the wall, at the head of his bed, hung a crucifix, with a smallbasin of holy water. With that she crosses herself, he thought. Hestuck his hand into it: it was dry. The whole arrangement was fastenedto an embroidered piece of cardboard, and, when he touched it, something fell from behind it. 

It looked like a large-sized letter. Walter picked it up and looked forthe address. He felt that it must be a letter from Femke to him. Thenhe reproached himself, and, trembling with emotion, restored the pieceof paper to its place. He had held it up to the light: it was theOphelia that he had presented her after his illness! She had treasuredthe picture together with the most sacred thing she possessed. 

He was wide awake now; but who wouldn't wake up on receiving a letterfrom Heaven?

He dressed himself and went into the other room, where he supposedMrs. Claus and Sietske were. Not a soul was to be seen. For the firsttime it occurred to him that after those few words he had heard nothingmore. The girl had surely visited her "cousin" and then gone away. 

But Mrs. Claus herself? Perhaps she, too, had gone away. This wasthe case; however, she had not gone out without leaving behind hera peculiar sign of her uncouth character and lack of refinement. Ona small table, before which stood an inviting chair, lay two piecesof bread and butter of her standard make. Beside them was a pot ofcoffee. To be sure, it was cold now; but--well, Walter acted quickly"according to his convictions. "

Other thoughts now forced themselves on his mind. The "House ofPieterse" appeared to his mind's eye as a menacing waterspout. Inthe face of this danger difficult questions that had been clamoringfor answer had to be forgotten. 

To go home? For heaven's sake, no!

His mother, Stoffel, his sisters--all had turned into Macbethanwitches. In his imagination, even Leentje had deserted him and wasasking him to beg forgiveness for his shameful behavior. He thoughtof the prodigal son; though he knew that no calf, fat or otherwise, would be slaughtered on his return. 

Sakkerloot! I haven't done anything wrong; I haven't squanderedanything--not a doit of my inheritance! Have I allowed the wine torun out? Not a drop!

But something must have been the matter; for--he did not dare togo home. 

Have I had any pleasure? Have I enjoyed any feast with four youngladies? No! Have I allowed hounds to run around loose in thebanquet-hall? Have I had any negro servant to hold my horse?

There he took his stand. And he stayed there. Of camels and girls andwine he felt that he was innocent; but himself, and his adventuresof the night, he was unable further to explain. 

"I wish I were a crumb of bread, " he sighed, as he stuck one intohis mouth, "then I would know where I belong. "

Doubtless the first crumb of bread that was ever envied by a ruler. 

Go to America?

Yes, if he only had those hundred florins that Mr. Motto had relievedhim of. Of course that worthy gentleman was now living like a princeon the money. At least, Juffrouw Pieterse had said as much. But, even if he had the money, he could not go away and leave Mrs. Claus'shouse to the mercy of stray thieves and robbers. In a way, hadn't heon yesterday evening taken the field against robbers?

Besides, he had no cap. There was nothing in sight that looked likea hat. Yes--there hung a North Holland cap!

Femke? America?

CHAPTER XXX

While Walter was looking at Femke's cap and revolving other plans ofescape, the door opened and Kaatje, the girl from Holsma's, walkedin. Not recognizing her, Walter did not understand her when she saidthat Femke had sent her to ask how he was. He looked at the messengersearchingly; then he asked:

"Are you trying to make a fool of me?"

He had puzzled over recent events till everything seemed ghostly andunreal; and he was angry. 

"My dear sir, Femke sent me. "

"What Femke? Somebody's grandmother again. " He took a step forward;and his attitude was threatening. 

"Are you that giant Miller's sweetheart?" taking another step forward, while Kaatje fell back. 

"Young man!"

Kaatje was already outside of the door, Walter close after her withhis fists doubled up. 

"Young man, what's the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with me? I'm tired of being made a fool of. Youunderstand?"

She retreated backwards; he pursued. It may have looked comical; butthat was the way his anger chose to express itself. In this mannerthe girl returned by the same way she came, which was the footpathacross the meadow where the clothes were dried. 

"Oh, heavens! If the doctor would only come. "

"What do you think of me?" Walter said, punctuating his words. 

"Oh, Lord!"

"Do you think I'm drunk?"

"Oh, no, no. Not at all!"

"Or crazy?"

"No, no!--Where can the doctor be so long!"

Two very similar shouts put an end to the strained situation. 

"Thank God, there he is!"

"Thank God, there it is!"

One cry came from Dr. Holsma's coachman, who was driving up hurriedly;the other cry meant that two boys, who were fishing in the ditch forfrogs, had caught Walter's cap. 

Walter accepted his lost property without question or complaint;while Kaatje, with tears in her eyes, ran up to Dr. Holsma to explainwhat was the matter. 

"Is it really so bad?" asked that gentleman presently. 

He approached Walter, who was shaking the mud from his cap, glad tothink that he was concealing his embarrassment and fright. 

"Well, my boy, it's a good thing I met you here. I wanted to ask youif you wouldn't like to take dinner with us this evening. Afterwardswe will all go out for a little amusement, if you like. "

That was the tone Walter needed to hear. He burst into tears. 

"Thank you, thank you! That will be nice for my mother, too. "

Holsma motioned to Kaatje, who had timidly retired to the background. 

"Go to Juffrouw Pieterse and tell her that the young gentleman dineswith us, and that he is going to spend the evening with us. "

"Yes, " cried Walter quickly, "and----"

The doctor looked at him anxiously. He was afraid that he saw symptomsof the alleged mental disorder; but Walter's eye was calm and gaveno ground for fear. 

"M'neer, can't she say too that I----"

"Out with it, my boy! What have you on your heart?"

"That I was with you--all day!"

Holsma reflected. 

"Certainly, " he said, "all day. "

"From early this morning--from seven o'clock on. "

"From seven o'clock on, " the doctor repeated. 

"And--I ate breakfast at your house. "

"Certainly, the young gentleman ate breakfast at our house. To besure, he ate breakfast with us. Kaatje, you can ride in the carriagewith us. "

As Holsma helped Walter in he gave the coachman directions to stop atJuffrouw Pieterse's, where "the girl" was "to leave a message. " Whenhe took a seat by his protégé, Walter pressed his hand and exclaimed:"Oh, what a good fortune it is that I found you!"

"Do you think so? It was only a--mere accident. Mrs. Claus is a----"

"A cousin?" interrupted Walter. 

"Yes, and she's a good woman, " said Holsma. "She is a cousin of ours, and I came to visit her. I do that every week, not as a physician, but as a kinsman. You can go to see her as much as you like: nothingwill hurt you there. "

"M'neer!" exclaimed Walter suddenly--and he caught his breath--"Ithink so much of Femke!"

"So?" answered Holsma dryly. "I do too. "

The doctor was diagnosing Walter's case; but he preferred to do itquietly. While speaking of indifferent things, he noted that Kaatje hadbeen mistaken; that Walter was both excited and exhausted, but thathis mind was unaffected. On the contrary, his mind was growing. Hissoul was expanding. 

When Kaatje left the carriage, Walter felt that the time had come togive and receive explanations. Holsma was of a contrary opinion. Hewas friendly enough, but showed no inclination for heart-to-heartconfidences. Walter's confusing story was promptly interrupted. 

"I've heard that you're going to enter the world of business. "

"Yes, sir, the day after to-morrow. "

"Well, that isn't bad, if you get into the right hands. You must work, though; and that's good for boys like you. "

Fearing that Walter might imagine he was something more than theaverage boy, Holsma continued immediately:

"It's a good thing for everybody, especially young people. They'reall alike; and all need to work. All boys must work; and girls, too. Everybody must work. "

Walter did not understand that the doctor was giving him a doseof medicine; but he saw that the time for explanations had notyet arrived. Still he would have felt better if he could haveunburdened his mind of at least a part of those persistent memoriesof last night. His instinct of chivalry would have prevented himfrom mentioning the details of the Laps affair, which, after all, had only been an ineffective attack. 

He began again; but the doctor interrupted him before he had hardlymentioned the fried potatoes. 

"Yes, such things happen to everybody. That doesn't amount toanything. The thing for young people to do--and for old people, too--is to work. It seems to be rather windy. "

That was true. If it had only been as windy yesterday. 

"Do you like pictures?" asked Holsma, when they had left the carriageand were entering his home. 

"Of course!"

"Good! Just go into that room. Look at everything as long as youplease. "

The doctor pushed him into the room, then ran through the hall andup the stairs to prepare the family for Walter's reception. 

Walter found little pleasure in paintings. He had had no trainingin art. For him, a man with a dog and a hare was merely a man with adog and a hare. He felt that a poem ought to have been written aboutit all; then it would have been intelligible. His glance fell on theportrait of a woman, or a queen, or a fairy, or a mayor's daughter. 

Femke!

Instead of the North Holland cap she wore a diadem of sparkling stars, or rays of----

"Dinner is ready, and papa and mamma invite you to come out to thedining-room. Are you still sore after your fall?" It was littleSietske. 

"I didn't fall. "

"I mean from your fall on the table in the coffee-house. Howcomical! Well, if you are all right again, we're going out thisevening--papa, mamma, William, Hermann, you, I--all! We're going tothe theatre!"

Sietske had understood her orders. 

"Going out?--to the theatre? But my mother----"

"Papa will attend to that. Don't worry; he will arrange everything. "

Once out in the hall, Walter hesitated again. He motioned to Sietskeand took her back into the room. 

"Sietske, who is that?"

"That is a great-great-great-great-grandmother of ours. "

"But she looks like----"

"Like Femke! Of course. Like me, too. When Hermann puts on such acap you can't tell him from Femke. Come, now. We mustn't keep mammawaiting. "

On entering the dining-room Walter was met by that quiet cordialitythat the doctor had prescribed. When all were seated Sietske mentionedthe picture again in apologizing to Walter for hurrying him awayfrom it. 

"Yes, " remarked the doctor quietly, "there is some resemblance;but Femke is not so pretty. No, not by a great deal. "

A cold douche!

Walter had never thought of Femke's beauty. He really did not knowwhether the girl was pretty, or not. 

"Will you take some sauce, Walter?"

She had called him brother, so solemnly, and with such a mien! Ofcourse the lady in the portrait, with the sparkling diadem, wouldhold out her hand the same way. Walter made an awkward gesture withhis hand. 

"Salad?" asked Sietske. 

"It will be crowded, " said Mevrouw Holsma. "Everyone will want to seethe kings and princes. We haven't asked our guest yet if he wants togo. We're going to the theatre; would you like to go with us?"

Walter was charmed at the prospect. He had never been in a theatre, but had long wanted to see such a play as Leentje had described. Hecared nothing for kings. He would have given a dozen kings for onebaron carrying away a girl in the approved manner. The Gloriosoinfluence was still on him. 

"We shall see half of the sovereigns of Europe, " said Holsma, "anda dozen candidates----"

Walter wondered what the candidates would do in the "comedy. " Sietskeexplained. 

There was still plenty of time. Holsma was going out to see a patientand promised to stop at Juffrouw Pieterse's. 

For reasons of fashion and feminine finery the play was not to begintill nine o'clock. 

Walter heard that Femke, too, was to witness the performance; and fromthe conversation he gathered that the relations existing between thearistocratic family and the poor wash-girl were most cordial. MevrouwHolsma sent Sietske to ask Femke to come in; but Femke preferred toremain with little Erich, with whom she was playing at the time. 

"Erich?" thought Walter. 

"I thought as much, " said Mevrouw Holsma. "That's why she wasn't atthe table. She would rather stay with the baby. "

"She says, too, that we sit at the table too long for her, " addedSietske. 

"She wouldn't enjoy the play anyway, " observed William. "She's a goodgirl, but she's a little thick-headed. Don't you think so, mamma?"

"Everyone must act according to his own convictions, and consult hisown tastes. Femke is too good to be forced to anything. "

There must have been some special reason why the mother was goingto the theatre with the rest, when she preferred to stay at homewith little Erich, who had the measles. But she was going to remain"only a little while, " and then come back with Uncle Sybrand. Hewould return to the theatre taking Femke with him, if she cared to go. 

"I call it thick-headedness, " affirmed William. "She just don't wantto put on a fine dress. "

"No, she doesn't want to be a fine lady, " said the mother. "She isvery sensible and fears that this might disturb her relations with hermother. We ought to have taken her when she was little; but Mrs. Clauscouldn't give her up then. And now Femke can't give herself up. "

"She's only stubborn, " William explained. 

"She is proud, " corrected his mother, "too proud to appear other thanshe is. She wouldn't exchange places with a princess. "

Uncle Sybrand came. He announced that the "Scylla" of Rotgans was to begiven, followed by "Chloris, " with something else as a close. Holsmahad already returned, bringing Walter the assurance that it was allright with his mother. 

Walter was enchanted in anticipation. Was he still thinking of Femke?

William said: "So far as I'm concerned she can stay at home. Supposethe students were to see me with a peasant girl! What would they dofor me when I enter college in September?"

Such an Amsterdamer calls everybody a "peasant, " even if he is astudent and able to explain what sort of a "Scylla" that was. 

All were now dressed and starting. Walter was to see his first"comedy, " and, perhaps, take a part in one. 

CHAPTER XXXI

Good Muse, sweet Muse, take us back to Pieterseville again. Whisperto me and tell me what happened there during Walter's romanticenchantment; and have a care that my language rises to the dignityof the subject. 

We know already, Clio, how the mistress of the castle saw her progenydepart to protect the distressed lady from the nefarious attacks ofrobbers and murderers; how her blessing and the consecrated blade werewithheld, and how the brave youth sallied forth with a nightcap hisonly weapon. We know, too, how the bachelor Stoffel, the hereditarycustodian of the reputation of the family----

Ah, let us treat the matter quite simply, and leave the muse alone. 

On the Friday evening in question Juffrouw Pieterse went to bed asusual. The others did the same. There were no indications of baddreams. There was no trace of anxiety over the terrible danger towhich Walter had thoughtlessly exposed himself. This might havebeen because they did not know of the danger. It had not been atall necessary for Juffrouw Laps to conceal her intention so slylyand always omit Walter's name from the knighthood of the Pietersefamily. Thanks to the stupidity of the family, she might have gainedher point without any finesse. 

Saturday morning dawned, that morning on which Mrs. Claus appliedthe restoratives so abundantly, and so efficaciously. 

"I wonder where in the world the boy can be so long?" said the mother. 

"I don't suppose he got up very early; and then maybe she had him toread a chapter out of the Bible at breakfast. "

This explanation by Stoffel quieted the family for half an hour. 

"How would it do for you to go over there?" Juffrouw Pieterse proposedat last. 

"I'm not going, mother. You know it isn't on my way to school. "

That was a sufficient reason. Never do anything that isn't on yourway--one of the favorite maxims of conservatism. Stoffel himself didnot know how profound was the wisdom of his political aphorism. 

"How would it do, then, to send Leentje over to Juffrouw Laps's toinquire about Walter?"

This proposal met with approval, and Leentje was dispatched forthwith. 

Oh, poor Juffrouw Laps! She was "the most wretched woman in the world;"and the room from which Walter had fled so suddenly was now the templeof all the heterogeneous griefs and pains that novelists ever makeuse of. 

I will not place Walter above Joseph, Theseus, Jason or Hippolytos. MayApollo preserve me from such blind partiality. Not by any means do Iregard my hero as the most interesting mortal that ever left a womanin the lurch. No, not in Walter's worth do I seek for the measureof the forsaken lady's despair. Indeed, Juffrouw Laps's pain wasnot caused by any reflections as to the beauty or excellence of thevanished knight. There was another element in the matter that wasfilling her with horror and driving her to distraction. With all duerespect for the suffering of other abandoned ladies, Asnath, Ariadne, Medea, Phaedra--but Juffrouw Laps had to face Walter's family. Thatwas the trouble. 

Her fertile brain evolved the most wonderful plans. How would it do forher to tell that he had been carried away in a fiery chariot beforethe eyes of the people, like Elias of old? She discarded the idea, for fear that no one would believe it. 

At first she had waited at the window, watching for her little Theseusto return. When she saw him no more she thought that perhaps the mobhad carried him off with them. That was not an unpleasant thought;since her fear for his return to his family was greater than herdesire for his return to her. This is easily understood: what mighthe not tell at home?

It was already daylight; but Juffrouw Laps knew that it was too earlyto go to the Pieterses'. Besides, what would she say? That her littleknight had run away during the night? And why? Whither? How did sheknow but that he had already told the story in all its details?

She determined--not to determine upon anything, and to leave thematter with the "Master" for the present. With this pious resolve sheclimbed into her maidenly bed; and, before falling asleep, she groaned:"If the rascal had only broken his neck, like the high priest Eli, in First Samuel, 4!"

No doubt the Master saw the distress of his faithful disciple andtaught her how to meet the situation that awaited her waking; forLeentje soon returned with the assurance of Juffrouw Laps that Walterwas out taking a morning walk. 

In a way, this was the truth. The Juffrouw merely neglected to addwhy he was taking a walk, and at what hour in the morning he had goneout. Leentje, suspecting nothing, asked no questions. For her it was a"matter of course" that he would not go out in the middle of the night. 

The family now regarded the incident as fresh evidence of Walter'sobjectionable habit of roving, and nothing more. They felt no anxietyfor his personal safety. 

"There it is again!" said the mother. "The trouble and vexation Ihave with that boy. Anybody else would sit down for a while afterbreakfast; but he--what does he do? He runs away before it's hardlydaylight. Is that any way to do, Stoffel?"

"No, mother. "

"And to leave us here anxious and worrying over him!"

"Yes, mother. "

"This is a nice caper he's cutting again. He knows very well thatwe're all uneasy and won't have a minute's peace till he comes. Godonly knows where he is. "

Stoffel could not wait to hear more. It was time for him to goto school. 

It may be repeated that there was not a word of truth in all thisuneasiness and anxiety. The family considered such a display to be theproper thing; though, for the rest, they did not manifest the slightestinterest in Walter's fate. For aught they knew some accident mighthave happened to the boy; but, instead of making a serious effort tofind out what had become of him, his mother found it easier to accusehim of indecorous conduct and general worthlessness. 

Thus matters remained until Dr. Holsma's carriage drove up beforeJuffrouw Pieterse's door that afternoon and Kaatje alighted with hermessage. After the recent fright Walter had given her, she was gladenough to escape from such close proximity to the young lunatic. Forthus she regarded him. 

All rushed to the window. 

"There he is; there he is!" cried the whole family in a breath, andas loud as they could. "Did you ever! Really, he's sitting there inDr. Holsma's carriage. "

This flattering observation banished everything else from theirthoughts, and made Kaatje's task an easy one. It was now a simplematter for her to allay their fears. They were no longer concernedto know where Walter had been. It was enough that he was now inDr. Holsma's carriage. 

"Ate breakfast at the doctor's? Girl, you don't say so! And--and--whyisn't the coachman wearing his furs?"

Kaatje was dumbfounded and could only stammer some reference to theseason. In fact, the manner in which her message was being receivedstrengthened her worst suspicions of Walter's sanity. It seemed toher that the entire family was a little "off. "

"And he really ate breakfast at the doctor's? Do you understand, Trudie? Ate breakfast at Dr. Holsma's!"

"Yes, he ate breakfast with us. To be sure he did. The doctor himselfsaid so. "

"At Dr. Holsma's, and ate breakfast there?"

"Why, certainly. Where else?"

"And did he use the good manners I've taught him?"

"Of course, Juffrouw! But----"

"And is he now in the carriage with the doctor?"

"Why, Juffrouw--naturally!"

"Listen, my dear, " continued the proud mother, "I am going to tell yousomething; but you need not repeat it to anybody else. Don't you know, that's an unusual child!"

"Yes, " sighed Kaatje, thoroughly convinced, "I know it. "

"You know it, don't you? And do you know why? I'm going to tellyou. He's an unusual child, because--Pietro, move away a little, andyou, too, Mina. Trudie, you can stay where you are, but pay attentionto your knitting!--he's an unusual child, don't you know, because, before he was born, you understand----"

"Oh, Juffrouw!"

"Yes, my dear, I dreamed of a butterfly; and it was dragging off anelephant! You understand now?"

"Oh, yes, Juffrouw. I understand exactly. "

"Don't you see? That's the reason. Give the doctor my politest regards, and thank him for me. If he's only well-behaved--I mean Walter. Andthe coachman wears such a fur cap only in the winter?"

Kaatje managed to escape, fully resolved never to dream of elephantsand butterflies. Such an indulgence seemed to her to be particularlydangerous; for she now began to think in all seriousness that thewhole family was crazy, and that what she had seen in Walter wasmerely a sample of the general disorder. 

When a few hours later the doctor himself stopped at JuffrouwPieterse's, her joy over Walter's exaltation know no bounds. Holsmatook note of the stupid woman's foibles and follies, and resolvedto prescribe an intellectual diet for Walter that would counteracttheir influence. 

Poor Juffrouw Laps! If she had only known how happily everythinghad turned out, how much worry she might have spared herself! In theseclusion of her own room she was still quoting the Bible and fightingfor her honor. 

CHAPTER XXXII

The reader is now invited to return to the theatre party, from whichhe was called suddenly away by the anxiety experienced in certainquarters over Walter's disappearance. 

The family took their seats, in the parquet this time, having had togive up their box to visiting potentates. The box was still unoccupied. 

"A comedy!" Walter thought. He looked about him and listened. 

The house was crowded, and everyone was talking. Backstairs gossip andcourt scandals were passed around. People were wondering who wouldsit there, and who would sit there. Later arrivals were pushing atone another and quarreling about seats. 

"The programs for the princes are printed on silk. What do you supposeit cost a yard?"

"Rotgans is one of the first poets!"

"Hm! Better say one of the second. "

"He's a poet of the seventh class. "

"Why, then, one of his plays? We have poets whose song is as clearas a bell!"

"Of course, Bilderdyk! A Phoenix!"

"Oh, these foreigners don't understand a word of it anyway, and itdoesn't make any difference what the play is. "

"It's a pity about Floris. "

"Oh, there's something behind that. "

"Yes, Bilderdyk is a patriot. "

"A genuine Hollander!"

"A genuine----"

"He will give those foreigners something to think about. "

"Sh!---- . . . Not much flattery. No Hollander is going to do that. "

"Sh!"

Everybody stood up. A footman appeared in the royal box, probably tosee whether the cushions were straight on the chairs, or not. 

"The idea, the very idea of standing up before a lackey!"

It was enough to make them indignant; but they had done it, eventhose who protested loudest. There were city aldermen in the number, and doctors, and professors, and prominent business men, including, perhaps, the great Kopperlith. 

Another period of babbling and waiting; then another footmanappeared. Again everybody sprang to his feet. Again all, except thesilent Holsmas, railed at such stupidity. 

The crowd became more restless. Innumerable times were they fooled bysome footman or other, who opened a door to break the monotony. Thepeople were already beginning to complain, but softly, cautiously. 

Walter was carried away with the elegance and magnificence of itall. One thing, however, jarred upon his sense of propriety: hewondered how such swell folk could say such commonplace things. TheHolsmas said nothing. Only once, when Uncle Sybrand pointed to acertain box, did they join in the general hubbub. 

"She will sit there, I think. "

"I shall be sorry if I have left little Erich all for nothing, "said Mevrouw Holsma. 

"He's safe with Femke. "

"Yes, but I had rather be with him myself. The child is sick. I'mnot going to wait much longer. "

"It's doubtful whether she will come with the others. I've heard thatshe's full of moods and mischief. She cares nothing for convention. Itseems to run in the blood. "

"If she isn't here by ten o'clock I'm going. I don't care much aboutit, anyway. "

This conversation occupied Walter for a short time. Who was this personon whose account Mevrouw Holsma had left the bedside of her sick child?

The tension of expectancy was broken, and a momentary excitement pulsedthrough the multitude. All arose to their feet, and remained standing. 

An emperor, or something of the kind, entered the royal box. Waltercould see little; but he inferred what was going on from whisperingshe heard about him. His majesty had made a quick rush for his chair, turning over a few other chairs in so doing. That was a habit ofhis. Then he looked about the auditorium for a moment with squintedeyes, jerked up his chair and fell into it. He was in a hurry. Thepublic was now at liberty to take their seats. 

The other boxes were now filled quickly, as if by a stroke ofmagic. Remarkable costumes were on exhibition. There were bodices threeinches wide, with skirts of as many yards. Voluptuous bosoms hoveredbetween chin and girdle. Scanty sleevelets did not know whether theywere to cover arms or shoulders. The ladies wore kid gloves reaching totheir armpits, and on their heads were turbans and flower-gardens. Theuniforms of the gentlemen were even more conspicuous. Those shakos! Theenemy would have run at the sight of them. 

The orchestra began to play. It was that song about the brave Dunois, of course. 

"Arise!" someone called; and all scrambled to their feet again inhonor of the brave hero. 

The curtain went up. 

 "Yes, Minos, on the present that I gave to thee---- 'Twas stolen from the church----"

"What church?" asked Walter. 

"Sh!" from William. "Poetic license. You will see how it is. "

 "----hangs Nisus' crown and life. "

"Qu'est-ze qu'elle changte?" cried the countess-palatine. Then shelet herself out on costumes, speaking in a noisy voice. 

Walter listened like a finch. Not that he understood very well;but everything strange interested him intensely. 

Not a soul was touched by the tragic bravery of King Minos; no one waslistening. Poor Rotgans! Afterwards it was said that Napoleon had beenespecially pleased with "our Snoel" and with "our Watlier. " Goodness, Napoleon! When he was to be crowned he had Talma the mimic to drillhim for the ceremony--instead of saying to Talma: "Look, this is theway an emperor appears when he's crowned!"

Walter listened attentively; even though he sometimes felt that hecould make such verses himself. 

During the performance another commotion arose. One of their majestieshad asked for a glass of orange lemonade; and this was something thebuffetier did not have. A runner was dispatched to the drug-storepost haste. He returned with a bottle of lemon-syrup. The situationbecame threatening. The news spread like fire that they were making a"Majesty" wait for such a trifle. King Minos declared:

 "Feelings of pleasure thrill my inner man--"

"De l'eau de fleur d'orange! que diantre!" cried a chamberlain. AndMinos noticed that nobody was interested in what was going on inhis interior. 

A confectioner up on "Olympus" allowed his light to flash out andgave some valuable information; but the police had him by the collarin a jiffy. He was to be dragged away and put in confinement forthe present. The technical charge was, "Making a demonstration forthe House of Orange. " At that time the House of Orange was in exile, and Napoleon's brother was king of Holland. 

 "Feelings of pleasure thrill my inner man--"

repeated Minos with gusto. The conductor of the orchestra seized hisbaton and was going to play, "Hail to the Emperor. " Many stood up inreadiness to escape in case of danger. 

In the meantime the prisoner was screaming as if he were possessed;but the two Italian police that Napoleon had brought with him couldnot understand a word. 

The emperor himself had forgotten that he had called for orange waterand was now engrossed in a military map. 

"Qu' a-t-il?" he seemed to be asking the lady next to him. 

Minos had begun again and was once more repeating his assurance that"feelings of pleasure thrill----"

Walter noted that the grown-up members of the Holsma party did notpay the slightest attention to the play. 

"If she doesn't come soon, I'm going, " Mevrouw Holsma repeated. 

"Perhaps she's sitting further back in the emperor's box, where wecan't see her. "

"I've heard that in Paris she never stays fifteen minutes in the sameplace. Maybe we shall find her somewhere else, " remarked another. 

"I am not going to wait but five minutes longer. My little Erich isworth more to me than a thousand cousins----"

"Of the king, " added Holsma. 

Walter had thought that they meant Femke. What, then, could be sointeresting about the princess? The boxes were full of them. 

At the close of the third act Mevrouw Holsma left with Uncle Sybrand, who was to return with Femke. "If she will come, " he said. "For shecares nothing for such a fuss. "

Walter knew better. Uncle Sybrand ought to have seen her in the"Juniper Berry. " But a knight tells no tales. 

Old Minos is insanely in love with Ismene, who is so beautifuland virtuous. Scylla is insanely in love with Minos, who is old anddignified. Ismene is in love with Focus, who is a hero; and, possibly, Focus loves Ismene, though he does not treat her quite gallantly. Hesays to her:

 "Princess, thy reasons spare: to me they're odious!"

The tumult on Mount Olympus began afresh. Had the rebelliousconfectioner returned? All eyes were directed toward the gallery. Apoliceman in uniform was seen remonstrating in vain with some menon the front seat. In order to make them understand his French, orItalian, he was pulling at their arms. They were to understand thathe did not want to arrest them, or kill them, but merely wanted themto give up their seats. 

 "Princess, thy reasons spare: to me they're odious!"

"Qu' y a-t-il encore?" asked the emperor again; and, when one of thechamberlains answered his question, he laughed heartily. Heads weretogether everywhere. Something interesting was going forward on MountOlympus. People whispered and tittered and laughed outright. Theireyes were fastened on the gallery. Even the emperor stood up andleaned out of his box. But it did no good: he could not see aroundthe corner. He was surprised at this. 

The countess-palatine, however, had got to the bottom of thematter. She was exchanging telegraphic messages with someone in thebackground on Mount Olympus. No one was thinking of Rotgans' play. 

She was greeting someone with that famous fan. Whom? The rebelliousconfectioner? With arms extended she was testifying that there wassomething extraordinary up there among that rabble. 

 "Princess, thy reasons spare: to me they're odious!"

The countess-palatine threw off all restraint, and laughed andlaughed. After the emperor had laughed hilarity was permissible. Herpleasure was beyond her control. 

I should have to have a double pen to report what Uncle Sybrand saidon his return, and, at the same time, reproduce the exclamation thatescaped Walter, who was looking towards the gallery with eyes andmouth wide open. 

"Where is Femke?" asked Holsma. 

"She didn't want to come, " replied Uncle Sybrand. "Just as I said. "

"There she is!" cried Walter. 

"Who?"

"Femke, M'neer, Femke, Femke--that is Femke! And she----"

The girl above had taken hold of the policeman by the collar and, pushing him to one side, had pressed forward to the front row. Thereshe had seated herself on the laps of the fellows the policeman hadbeen negotiating with in vain. 

"It is Femke, M'neer. If only they don't hurt her!"

Again the emperor stood up and stared at Mount Olympus. He saw the girlwith the North Holland cap and nodded to her. The countess-palatinegreeted again with her fan, as if she would congratulate her onsecuring the seat. 

"But, M'neer, it is Femke, " cried Walter, amazed that he receivedno answer. 

Even Holsma and Sybrand were surprised, but not so much so as Walter. 

"Now, children, " said Holsma, "you can tell your mother that we sawher. " And to Walter he continued, "That girl is a relation of ours. "

"Yes, Femke!"

"No, that isn't her name; and----"

"M'neer, don't I know Femke?"

That sounded quite different from what Walter had said that eveningwhen he "denied" her. 

The girl's big blue eyes, roving about the hall, suddenly fell onWalter. She bent over, looked him attentively in the face, then noddedto him and threw him a kiss. 

At least, he thought it was that way; and it was that way. But everyonein the parquet thought that the kiss had been intended for him. Folkof quality were annoyed at the insolence of the peasant wench; whilemore "sporty" persons returned the attention. 

Soon hissing was heard. The news had leaked out that Princess Erika, the cousin of the king, had dressed in the national costume to showher affection for the people. 

"Don't you believe it, M'neer? I tell you that is Femke, " Walterassured him with tears in his eyes. 

"No, no, my boy. That girl is not Femke. "

"But, she greeted me!"

"You saw the emperor greet her; and you know he would not salutea wash-girl. "

That was perhaps true; but it was hard for Walter to accept it. And, on the other hand, it was just as hard for him to believe that theprincess was a cousin of the Holsmas. 

Again he imagined that the girl was nodding to him and motioning herlips. It looked to him as if she said: "My brother!" Walter lispedthe words after her and pressed both hands to his breast. 

Yes, now he had it! They considered him a little daft and wantedto cure him of his fixed idea. That would explain the visit to thetheatre and also Femke's alleged unwillingness to come with UncleSybrand. But--how did she dare to interfere with the policeman? Andthe greeting from the emperor? And how did Holsma know that he had"denied" Femke, and that her presence could threaten his peace of mind?

"Oh, M'neer, let Femke sit here! I will be perfectly quiet. I am soafraid she will get hurt up there among those men. "

Holsma looked at him wistfully. After all, could Kaatje have beenright about it? He sought to distract Walter's attention by referringto other things; but it was useless. 

"All right, " said Holsma at last "I just wanted to tease you alittle. Femke is sitting up there, because she--doesn't wish to sithere. She thinks that it wouldn't be proper, because she's only awash-girl. She's afraid we would be ashamed. You see?"

"M'neer, no one need be ashamed to sit by her. Not even the emperor. "

"Yes, yes, " agreed Holsma. "Quite so. Femke is a brave girl anddoesn't need to cringe before anybody. Watch the play, my boy. "

Walter was willing to do what the doctor said, but not without takingleave of that glorious apparition. He looked up; and she smiled tohim again. Then she took from her breast a rose branch, with threebuds on it, held it a moment between the forefinger and thumb of herleft hand, pointed to Walter with her right and let it fall. 

The rosebuds landed on the bald pate of a stout gentleman near theHolsma party. He seized them and examined them admiringly; but, beforehe could decide what to do with them, Walter had sprung over half adozen chairs and deprived him of the precious property. With a glancetoward Olympus, Walter pressed the roses to his lips. Princess Erikanodded approval; and the playful countess-palatine applauded lustily. 

That was more than Walter could bear. He had never forgiven himselffor denying her; but she, the noble, the big-hearted, the majesticone!--she had proclaimed her pardon publicly before the people. Andthat was why she preferred to sit in the gallery. She had washedaway the black spots from his soul; she had restored his soiledchivalry. These thoughts flashed through Walter's mind like lightning. 

He sank to the floor in a faint. But was it any wonder?

The Holsmas took him home with them for the night; and another messagewas sent to Juffrouw Pieterse. 

"Don't you see, Stoffel? Just as I said! I don't care if everybodyknows it. He's simply living at Dr. Holsma's. Trudie, don't forget whenLeentje goes to the grocer's---- Upon my soul, he's at Dr. Holsma'sall the time!"

CHAPTER XXXIII

The next morning, Sunday, the doctor invited Walter into his study. Hespoke to him sympathetically and encouraged the boy to lay his casebefore him; though he avoided everything that might make Walter believethat his experiences were anything extraordinary. He already knewmore about it than Walter could tell. Even Walter's adventure withJuffrouw Laps was perfectly transparent to him. There was nothinglost to him because of the boy's lack of skill in handling the story. 

While Walter poured out to him his inner experiences, Holsma listenedquietly, as if it was all familiar to him. Walter's reverence andpassion for the good he interpreted as a commonplace phenomenonincident to budding youth. He treated the boy's love for Femke as anordinary matter. He admitted that it had been exactly the same waywith him when he was a boy--a method that few parents and educatorsseem to be familiar with. 

"Certainly, certainly, my boy. In such moods a fellow would liketo be everywhere at the same time, ruling, regulating and puttingthings into order. He feels that he's responsible for everything;and it hurts him to see so much crookedness in the world. I know verywell how it is. But you must consider the means and remedies at yourdisposal. How are you going to begin to improve things?"

Walter was silent. 

"Do you think that everyone is bad? I suppose you hardly thinkthat. There are plenty of people in the world who wish for the samethings that you are worrying about. Why don't they change the world?"

Again Walter was silent. The very simplicity with which Holsma putthe question disconcerted him. 

"I will try to help you out. Do you believe that I am a good man?"

"Oh, yes!" cried Walter enthusiastically. 

"You think so? Well, I think so too. I should be ashamed not to beable to say that. Why don't I reform the world? You often speak ofAfrica. That's because you don't know that country, my boy. And I, whoam a good man, have not abolished slavery. Why not, do you suppose?"

Walter returned no answer. Holsma was busy with a surgicaloperation. Is it any wonder that the patient tried to withdraw themember that was being cut away?

"I will present the matter to you differently. Do you hear thatknocking and hammering? Listen! That comes from the blacksmith's shopover there. It isn't so bad on Sunday; but you can easily imaginethat the noise sometimes disturbs me. "

"In case of sickness!"

"Yes, and also when I wish to think. And then I should like to see theblacksmiths swept away--quick--just like that! But why don't I do it?"

"Because--because you can't, M'neer. "

"Quite right. For the same reason I have not yet corrected any of thewrongs in Africa. Nor in Asia; nor in America; nor in other countriesthat I might mention. But yesterday evening, when you were taken sickin the theatre, I brought you home with me and put you to bed. ThenI sent a messenger to quiet your mother. That was my duty, wasn't it?

"No thanks, my boy. It seemed to me to be my duty; and I didit--because I could. Whatever is impossible, is not my duty; andthat's the reason I don't take those blacksmiths between my thumband forefinger and transport them to some other clime. For the samereason I don't fret over doings in Africa. Impossible duty is no duty;and running after the impossible interferes with the performance ofreal duties. At school did you ever fail to know a lesson?"

"Oh yes, very often! But not lately; because Femke----"

"Leave Femke out of account for the present. I may say somethingabout her another time. When you were neglecting your books at school, you were thinking of other things, things far removed from your work. 

"That is a mistake that many young people make--don't be offended:I did the same thing--and usually on account of laziness. It is moreconvenient to imagine one's self soaring over the distant mountaintop than to lift a foot and step over the stone just in front ofone. Of all the million things that you would like to do there areonly a very few that you can do. Busy yourself with these few. Thatis the way to succeed. Whatever comes up, always ask: 'What is myimmediate duty?' Will you promise to do this?"

Walter gave Holsma his hand on it. 

"And you would like to know more, my boy? I would, too. What liesbefore you? Well, you are behind in your studies. Other boys of yourage know more. We will speak of that again, however; for that issomething to be attended to later, and does not come under the head ofimmediate duty. That smattering of Latin, for which you envy William, you can acquire in a few months, when once you've learned how to useyour will. The enemies you have to fight now are quite different fromthe knights of your romances. Do not underestimate the difficultiesyou will have to contend with. That might result in your defeat. Youmust learn to use your intellectual faculties at will; and keep a firmgrip on 'Fancy, ' or else she will throw you head over heels. Dreamingis not living. "

Walter nodded assent. 

"True manliness, " Holsma continued, "means, to do what has to be done, no difference how insignificant it may be. What would you think of alot of knights, who let tramps beat them over the heads because theircode of honor did not allow them to fight with tramps? You are goinginto business now: come to me in a month and tell me if you have keptyour word. Then we will speak further; but--that first! Will you?"

"Certainly I shall keep my word, M'neer. But, M'neer, may I ask----?"

"About Femke? Well, that is a good, brave girl. She's a cousinof mine. "

"But how did she happen to be----?"

"The young lady in the theatre wasn't Femke. That was PrincessErika. We wanted to see her because her ancestors were related toours. You rogue, you! There was nothing special about that. "

"A real princess?"

"Yes; and Femke is a real wash-girl. I hope that Princess Erika has asadmirable a character as Femke. But don't attribute too much importanceto this, my boy. Such differences in related families are of frequentoccurrence, whether one notices them, or not. There was a time whenErika's forefathers dressed themselves in skins; and mine did thesame. We don't know whether she is aware that she has relations hereor not. Uncle Sybrand found out--well, he takes a sort of pleasurein tracing out the identity of opposites. Rightly understood, theworld is smaller than you imagine; everything is a link in the samesequence. Who knows but that you may turn the course of historyto-morrow, when you go to work for--what is the style of the firm?"

"Ouwetyd & Kopperlith. "

"Yes, when you go to work for Ouwetyd & Kopperlith. But, whether it'sto be an historical event, or not, perform your immediate duty. Thatis the chivalrous, manly thing for you to do--if you will take myadvice. Will you?"

"Yes, M'neer! But--Femke?"

"There you go again! She has nothing to do with your immediateduty. The lady that you must attend upon and serve faithfully is--who?"

"Do you mean 'Business'?"

"Right. If you are determined to know more about Femke, I will tellyou what she says. She says that for the present you must think ofnothing but your work. "

"Oh, I will, I will!"

"For about ten years. "

"Ten years? Ten?"

"Yes, that is what she said when she heard how little you know andhow little you can do. "

"Ten years?"

"Yes, that is what she said. Perhaps eight, perhaps twelve, perhapstwenty. One cannot say exactly beforehand. You understand that, don't you?"

"Ten years!"

"So she said. "

"I will!"

"Good. It will give me pleasure--and Femke, too. Don't imagine itwill be particularly difficult. Ten years ago thousands began justwhere you will begin to-morrow; and they are still alive. So, you see, it can be done. Besides, think only of the first month; and then thetime will seem shorter. I shall expect you to come to see me in abouta month; then we shall have more to say. "

Before Walter left, he promised again to banish all boyish folliesfrom his thoughts. But he put away the rosebuds; and he kept them.