Chapter IXYes, the door-bell rang. And it rang again: So it was “for us.” Juffrouw Pieterse drew a long breath; and I must say, she did a very proper thing. While admitting that it is foolish to say what one would do if one were somebody else, still, in her place I should have drawn a long breath, too. Firstly, because I imagine she hadn’t done this for a long time; secondly, because I know how, in adverse circumstances, every change and interruption gives one ground for hope; 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 was too early for them; and this very doubt and uncertainty as to who it might be gave the crisis a favorable turn.Mere uncertainty, even when in no way connected with what is occupying us, has a sort of paralyzing effect. Besides, when one is interrupted in one’s anger, afterwards it is difficult to find the place where one left off.This was Juffrouw Laps’s experience; she tried it, but it wouldn’t work. 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 get them all seated again.Trudie was commissioned to “straighten out” the children, who came off rather badly. The hostess was just about to state a new zoölogical argument, which should establish peace between the hostile parties, when the door opened and Master Pennewip stood before the agitated assembly.He, too, was agitated: the reader knows it.The surprise caused by the arrival of this unexpected visitor had a most favorable effect on the peace negotiations. A truce was tacitly declared, though not without the proviso, at least on Juffrouw Laps’s part, that hostilities should be reopened as soon as curiosity as to Pennewip’s visit had been sufficiently satisfied. Indeed, she was all the more willing for a truce, as it was evident from the man’s appearance that there was something momentous at hand. His wig cried out fire and murder in unmistakable tones. And that was just what the good Juffrouw Laps liked.“Good-evening, Juffrouw Pieterse; my humblest respects. I see you have company, but——”“That ‘doesn’t make a bit of difference,’ Master Pennewip.‘Come right in and take a seat.’”These forms of expression were rigidly observed in the “citizen populace,” III, 7. c.“Won’t you drink a cup with us?”“Juffrouw Pieterse,” he said with extreme dignity, “I didn’t come here 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. Then he drew a roll of manuscript from his pocket, disarranged his wig and spoke:“Juffrouw Pieterse! You are a worthy, respectable woman, and your husband sold shoes——”Juffrouw Pieterse looked triumphantly at Juffrouw Laps.“Yes, Master Pennewip, quite so; he did——”“Don’tinterruptme, Juffrouw Pieterse. Your departed husband sold shoes. I have taught your children from little tots up to their confirmation. Haven’t I, Juffrouw Pieterse?”“Yes, Master Pennewip,” she replied modestly; for she was afraid of that excessive dignity in Pennewip’s manner and voice.“And I just want to ask you, Juffrouw Pieterse, whether, during all this time that your children were in my school, you ever heard any complaints—reasonable complaints—of the manner in which I, with my wife, instructed your children in reading, writing, arithmetic, national history, psalmody, sewing, knitting, drawing and religion? I put the question to you, Juffrouw Pieterse, and wait for a reply.”An awful silence followed this speech. The Juffrouw below had every reason to be satisfied.“But, Master Pennewip——”“I don’t want any ‘but’, Juffrouw Pieterse. I ask you, whether you have had any complaints. Imean, of course, well grounded complaints about 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 is your son Walter?”“Walter? Dear me! Hasn’t he come home, Trudie? He went to take a walk 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, and that’s it? So—from the Hallemans! And he learns such things from the Hallemans—the HallemansIII, 7, a2, perhaps ‘a’—yes, who knows but that it might beII. It’s no wonder—immorality, viciousness—at the French school! And now, Juffrouw Pieterse, I want to tell you that your son——”“What did you say?”Master Pennewip looked about him as if he were drinking in the breathless silence that had fallen over his hearers.Juffrouw Laps hastened to repay with compound interest that triumphant look of the hostess, while that lady, thoroughly miserable, was making frequent use of the camphor bottle. She was not so much mortified that Juffrouw Laps should hear something else unfavorable about Walter, who had caused them so much trouble, as angry that she should be the witness of an accusation that would give her a new weapon in the zoölogical fray.“Didn’t I tell you so? Nothing good will evercome to this Walter. A boy that begins with the Bible will end with something else. Yes, Master Pennewip, I’m not surprised—I shouldn’t be surprised at anything he did. I’ve seen it coming for a long time. But what shouldn’t one expect from a family——”As quick as a flash Juffrouw Pieterse saw here her opportunity to recover 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 a sucking animal?”I am convinced that Pennewip brought this question under a special category for “peculiar overflowings of the heart,” seeing that it followed upon his unfinished accusation against Walter. He looked over his glasses and slowly described with his eye a circle, peopled with women holding their breath, heads and necks stretched out and mouths wide open. The attitude of Juffrouw Laps was threatening above everything else, and said quite distinctly: Answer or die! Am I a sucking animal?“With whom have I the honor to speak?” he asked, probably not considering that this question made the matter still more mysterious, giving the impression that Laps’s animal quality depended upon her name, age, place of residence, family relations, etc.“I am Juffrouw Laps,” she said, “and live down stairs in the front part 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 again triumphant. In politics and the citizenpopulace complete equilibrium is impossible. The parties or powers are in continual motion, first one 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 a thing? 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—front entrance——”“You miss the significance of my question entirely, Juffrouw Laps. The meaning would be similar if I were to ask you if you belonged to that class of organisms that live in oyster-shells.”“Yes, yes, Juffrouw Laps,” cried the triumphant hostess, “that’s the point—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 to herself that she didn’t usually reside in an oyster-shell. She looked at the teacher with astonishment; but he paid no attention at all to the effect of his questions. Assuming a sort of legal manner—which was 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 living young into the world?”“It is a sin, Master Pennewip!”The wig now looked like a battering-ram, anticipating the nature of the next question.“Can you lay eggs, Juffrouw Laps? I only ask you the question. Can you 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 vanquished Juffrouw Laps.I wonder what the reader’s idea is of the effect produced on the company by this terrible sentence, against which there could be no appeal. There was something pitiless in Pennewip’s manner, and in his contracted eyebrows there was no intimation of mercy.Chapter XThe attentive reader who knows human nature will naturally wish to know why I closed the last chapter so tamely, and why that zoölogical problem which, only a short time before had caused such a violent explosion, 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 over the battlefield and, without thinking of the famous battle between the Horatii and the Curiatii, saw with innate tactical talent the correctness of “divide and conquer.” With the forces Stotter, Mabbel, Krummel and Zipperman against the house of Pieterse—that was all right. But now that the house was supported by Pennewip’s powerful hand, it was prudent to withdraw from the battle. For who could guarantee her that she might depend upon her allies? What assurance had she that the midwife, or even Juffrouw Zipperman would not go over to the enemy?—if only out of deference to the versatile wig! No, no, no! She wouldn’t risk her rhetorical artillery in such a doubtful engagement! She was content to say to herself, “I will get even with you later.” Imagining her, with all her relations to society, multipliedby twenty or thirty millions, we would have read the next day in this or that official Laps organ something like this:“Our relations with the Pietersian empire are most cordial. The recent friendly meeting between the two sovereigns was merely that they might have the mutual pleasure of seeing one another, and had no political significance whatever. It will be seen how unfounded were those rumors of ‘strained relations,’ which were said to have been brought about by a discussion of certain characteristics of our popular princess. The reader will recall that we never gave credence to those rumors, and reported them with great reserve.”Thirdly. The third and chief cause of the armistice was—curiosity. Under the present changed circumstances whoever betrayed any anger would have to leave; and whoever left would not find out why Master Pennewip had come, or what new crime Walter had committed. Again we see the truth of the proposition, that everything has its good side.“But, Master Pennewip,” asked Juffrouw Pieterse—she threw the subdued sucking animal a look that was like a triumphant telegram, and read: Where are you now?—“but Master Pennewip, what has Walter been doing now?”“Yes, what has he been up to this time,” added Juffrouw Laps, delighted that the conversation had taken this turn, and that she was now to hear about Walter’s latest sin.For the sinner is a thing in which pious persons find much edification. As we have already seen, Juffrouw Laps was fond of edification.Pennewip was just on the point of beginning his indictment when the door-bell rang. It rang again: “It’s for us”—and in a moment our truant walked into the room.He was paler than usual, and with good reason; for strange things had happened to him since Fancy had lifted him up and borne him away.“Juffrouw Pieterse,” began Pennewip, “my school is famous, even as far away as Kattenburg. Do you hear me?”“Yes, Master Pennewip.”“I repeat it: Famous! And, too, chiefly on account of the fine moral there—I mean, of course, in my school. Religion and morality occupy the first place in my school. I could show you verses on the Deity—but I pass over that. It is sufficient for you to know that my school is famous as far as—but what am I talking about—I’ve even had a boy from Wittenburg; and I was once consulted about the education of a boy whose father lived at Muiderberg.”“Oh, Master Pennewip!”“Yes, Juffrouw, I still have the letter and could show it to you. The man was a gravedigger—the boy painted inappropriate figures on the coffins. And just for this reason I feel it my duty to tell you that I don’t intend to see my school lose its good name through that good-for-nothing boy of yours there!”Poor Walter had fallen from the clouds. That sounded quite different from a papal appointment—which he really no longer cared for, as he had just received another appointment that pleased him better.His mother wanted to pass immediately to what shecalled her “divine worship” and give him a sound thrashing, in order to satisfy the teacher that religion and morality took the first place in her house, too.But the teacher found it preferable to tell the party what the trouble was, and incidentally to strengthen the feeling of guilt in the patient.“Your son belongs to the class of robbers, murderers, ravishers of women, 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 of exclamations 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 leave small room for doubts; and I, who have chosen Walter for my hero, anticipate difficulty in convincing the reader that he was not so bad as he seemed—after his“Robber Song.”“On the steed,Off I speed,With helmet on headAnd a sword in my hand and the enemy dead;Quick, away!”“Christian souls,” cried the whole party, “is he mad?”“Rather late,Near the gateA 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 feelHow it seemed.”“Heavenly grace, what is he going to do in the cave?”“In my arm,Free from harmLay 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 burnedFor 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 fireAnd revenge!”“Mercy on us! What had they done to him!”“Revenge’s sweet,And is meetFor the King of the World——”“Is he crazy? I’ll make him a king!”“Revenge’s sweetAnd is meetFor the King of the World,Who alone is supreme, with a banner unfurledForever!”“What sort of a thing is he talking about?”“All! Hurrah!But, I say——”Everybody shuddered.“All! Hurrah!But, I sayNo 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, “for pleasure!”“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 mother had beaten him till she came to her senses again, he went to bed in the little back room, far from dissatisfied with the day’s work, and was soon dreaming of Fancy.Chapter XIOn the next day things had largely resumed their wonted course. That someone may not charge me with carelessness, or indifference towards the persons with whom we spent a pleasant evening, I will remark in passing that Juffrouw Mabbel was again busy with her baking and “clairvoyange,” and that Mrs. Stotter had resumed her activities with the stork. Those unfortunate creatures who were committed to her care she condemned to lie motionless for two or three months—perhaps to give 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 future grandparents of the past. His wig had not yet recovered from the excitement 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 in the papers whose clearness, conciseness and sublimity betray his master hand. I have heard that he died of smallpox—he had not been vaccinated; it will be remembered—but I consider it my duty to protect him from any such slander. A genius does not die; otherwise it wouldn’t be worth while to be born a genius. Still, if Klaashad died like other people, his spirit would have lived in those coming after him. And that is a beautiful immortality.The family de Wilde, too, has not died out, and will not die. I am certain of it.Juffrouw Krummel asked her husband if she was really a “sucking animal.” Being from the bourse, and having much worldly wisdom, he replied after reflection that of such things he didn’t believe more than half he heard. “In this case the last half,” he added—but softly.Juffrouw Zipperman had caught a cold; but was still able to boast about her son-in-law. She was a “respectable woman.” Only she couldn’t endure for Juffrouw Laps to talk so much about “virtue,” and the “respectability” of her father, who was “in the grain business.” Old Man Laps, she said, was notin, butunderthe grain business. He had carried sacks of grain, but that was quite different from selling grain. For the man who sells is much bigger than the man who carries. Juffrouw, therefore, had been making misleading statements.Trudie and her sisters had decked themselves out as well as possible and were sitting at the window. When young people passed by they looked as if they had never in their lives straightened out anybody.The Juffrouw in the rear below told the grocer that she was going to move out; for it was just scandalous, simply scandalous the way the Pieterses carried on in their back room; that she couldn’t leave anything uncovered.Juffrouw Pieterse was busy with her household,and looked like a working woman. From time to time she had “divine service” with the children, who, if they could have had their choice, would have preferred to have been born among the Alfures, Dajaks, or some other benighted people whose religion is less strenuous.I am glad to be able to say that Juffrouw Laps had passed a good night. I should like to tell more about her, but I don’t care to exhaust myself.Stoffel had returned to school, and was trying to inspire the boys with contempt for riches. He was using on them a poem that had probably been written in a garret by some poor devil or other whose wealth gave him little cause for complaint. The boys were inattentive, and seemed not to grasp the peculiar pleasure in having no money to buy marbles. Stoffel attributed their hard-heartedness to Walter’s crazy ideas: They had heard of his attack on the Margrave and of that remarkable visit to the cave.And Walter?He still lived in expectation of the punishment he deserved so richly. For his mother had given him to understand repeatedly that the little “straightening out” of the evening before was merely for practice, and that the reward of his sin would be delayed till she could speak with the preacher about it.In the meanwhile Walter didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t return to 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 do if I let him out of my sight?” said his mother, who was presumably afraid that hemight make a fresh attack on the cloisters. As a matter of fact, she denied him this privilege merely because Walter asked it.She expressed the opinion that it was best not to let bad children have their own way.If Walter had been right wise, he would have pretended to be thoroughly in 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 ladies did 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 used to 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 crooked knees, 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 easily his childish soul was moved by whatever seemed great to him. He was a pure child, and he was a good boy. He wouldn’t have hurt a fly. The criminal character of his song was due to his desire to grasp what is greater than everything else and to be the leader in that world created by his childish fancy.Robber—good! But a first-class robber, a robber of robbers, a robber without mercy—for pleasure!As to the gross mistreatment of women mentioned in his song, he had no idea what it meant. He used the word for the sake of rhyme, and because from certain sentences in his book he had got the impression that it must afford great pleasure.If, perchance, for those fourteen stivers Grandisson—weary remembrance—had fallen into his hands, his Wednesday’s poem would have been quite different. No doubt he would have sought a reconciliation with the butcher’s Keesje, forgiving him completely all his liberties with “Holland nobility” and even presenting him a few slate pencils.For that is the striking characteristic of spirits such as Walter’s. Whatever they are, they are that with all their might, always going further in any direction than they would seem to be warranted 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 notunderstandit and are ashamed to admit our ignorance—if through some chance they 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 anyone whose soul is differently organized from ours. How does the watch move? asks the child, and cannot rest until he has torn apart the wheels he could not understand. There the watch lies in pieces, and the little miscreant excuses himself with the remark that he just wanted to see how it was made.Chapter XIIWalter sat with his elbows on the table, his chin resting in his hands. He seemed to be deeply interested in Leentje’s sewing, but we 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 only occasionally, when Juffrouw Pieterse left the room, did she have an opportunity 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 be who was caught in between the thrashing of yesterday and the priest of to-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 another house.”“Yes, it was Amalia’s father—but that isn’t it. I have something to tell 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 duck came—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 you want 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 if you were mad.”Walter had a vision. He stretched himself up, cast a proud glance at the beams in the ceiling, placed his right hand over his heart, extended his left, as if he were draping a Spanish mantle about him—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 out of 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 this new dignity.Long before the beginning of this story—yes, a longtime before this—there was a queen of spirits, just like in “Hans Heiling.” Her name 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 with a motion of her hand she drove away the firmaments.Her children played with planets as with marbles, and she complained that it was so difficult for her to find them again when they had rolled away under the furniture.The little son of the queen,PrinceUpsilon, was peevish over this and 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 paid more attention to his playthings.They tried to satisfy him as best they could, but no matter what they gave him, he always wanted something else, something larger. This was 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 accustom himself to privations.She issued an order, therefore, that for a certain time Upsilon was to have no playthings.The order was carried out. Everything was takenaway from him, even the comet that he and his little sister Omicron happened to be playing with.Prince Upsilon was somewhat stubborn. He so far forgot himself one day as to speak disrespectfully to his mother.Even Princess Omicron was contaminated by his example—nothing is worse than a bad example—and violently threw her pallet against the universe. That was not becoming in a girl.Now, in the kingdom of spirits, there was a law to the effect, that anyone showing disrespect toward the queen, or throwing anything against the universe, should be deprived of all titles and dignities for a certain length of time.Prince Upsilon became a grain of sand.After he had behaved himself well in this capacity for a few centuries he 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. In recognition 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 harmed anyone. Soon he received four feet and the rank of a mastodon, with the 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 time taken together is only as a short quarter of an hour—or to speak more correctly, 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 to children. For spirits, present, past and future are all the same. They comprehend yesterday, to-day and to-morrow at a glance, just as one reads a word without spelling it out. What was and is going to be,is.The Egyptians and Phœnicians knew that very well, but Christians have forgotten it.Fancy knew that Walter could not read, so she related Upsilon’s story to 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 years as 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 a spirit-prince in a short time and escape any further degradation it was necessary for him to be diligent and well behaved in his present state, and not write any robber songs, or slip out things and sell them—even if it was only a Bible.And, too, he must become reconciled to seeing JuffrouwPieterse without a train on her dress. Fancy said it couldn’t be helped.This “Fancy” must have been some lady at his mother’s court, who visited him in his exile to comfort and encourage him, so that he wouldn’t think they were punishing him because they were angry with 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 with it all and promises to improve. At first she was a fire-ball; but she behaved so nicely that she was soon changed to a moon-beam; and also in this state there was nothing against her. It seemed to be a pleasure for her; and it was all her mother could do to keep from shortening the punishment. She was soon turned into vapor, and stood the test well; for she filled the universe. That was about the time you began to eat grass. Soon she was a butterfly. But your mother did not consider this suitable for a girl and had her changed into a 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 holds in 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. Each must undergo his punishment alone. It’s already a great concession that you two are imprisoned in the same universe. Recently, when your little brothers flooded the milky way with sin, they were separated completely.”Walter was sad. How gladly would he have kissed his little sister!—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 of accomplishing 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 eat grass or build continents—I will eat and build with pleasure, if I may 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 heard the 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 called out just like other sawmills: “Karre, karre, kra, kra——”Thereupon Walter went home. We have already seen what awaited him there.
Chapter IXYes, the door-bell rang. And it rang again: So it was “for us.” Juffrouw Pieterse drew a long breath; and I must say, she did a very proper thing. While admitting that it is foolish to say what one would do if one were somebody else, still, in her place I should have drawn a long breath, too. Firstly, because I imagine she hadn’t done this for a long time; secondly, because I know how, in adverse circumstances, every change and interruption gives one ground for hope; 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 was too early for them; and this very doubt and uncertainty as to who it might be gave the crisis a favorable turn.Mere uncertainty, even when in no way connected with what is occupying us, has a sort of paralyzing effect. Besides, when one is interrupted in one’s anger, afterwards it is difficult to find the place where one left off.This was Juffrouw Laps’s experience; she tried it, but it wouldn’t work. 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 get them all seated again.Trudie was commissioned to “straighten out” the children, who came off rather badly. The hostess was just about to state a new zoölogical argument, which should establish peace between the hostile parties, when the door opened and Master Pennewip stood before the agitated assembly.He, too, was agitated: the reader knows it.The surprise caused by the arrival of this unexpected visitor had a most favorable effect on the peace negotiations. A truce was tacitly declared, though not without the proviso, at least on Juffrouw Laps’s part, that hostilities should be reopened as soon as curiosity as to Pennewip’s visit had been sufficiently satisfied. Indeed, she was all the more willing for a truce, as it was evident from the man’s appearance that there was something momentous at hand. His wig cried out fire and murder in unmistakable tones. And that was just what the good Juffrouw Laps liked.“Good-evening, Juffrouw Pieterse; my humblest respects. I see you have company, but——”“That ‘doesn’t make a bit of difference,’ Master Pennewip.‘Come right in and take a seat.’”These forms of expression were rigidly observed in the “citizen populace,” III, 7. c.“Won’t you drink a cup with us?”“Juffrouw Pieterse,” he said with extreme dignity, “I didn’t come here 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. Then he drew a roll of manuscript from his pocket, disarranged his wig and spoke:“Juffrouw Pieterse! You are a worthy, respectable woman, and your husband sold shoes——”Juffrouw Pieterse looked triumphantly at Juffrouw Laps.“Yes, Master Pennewip, quite so; he did——”“Don’tinterruptme, Juffrouw Pieterse. Your departed husband sold shoes. I have taught your children from little tots up to their confirmation. Haven’t I, Juffrouw Pieterse?”“Yes, Master Pennewip,” she replied modestly; for she was afraid of that excessive dignity in Pennewip’s manner and voice.“And I just want to ask you, Juffrouw Pieterse, whether, during all this time that your children were in my school, you ever heard any complaints—reasonable complaints—of the manner in which I, with my wife, instructed your children in reading, writing, arithmetic, national history, psalmody, sewing, knitting, drawing and religion? I put the question to you, Juffrouw Pieterse, and wait for a reply.”An awful silence followed this speech. The Juffrouw below had every reason to be satisfied.“But, Master Pennewip——”“I don’t want any ‘but’, Juffrouw Pieterse. I ask you, whether you have had any complaints. Imean, of course, well grounded complaints about 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 is your son Walter?”“Walter? Dear me! Hasn’t he come home, Trudie? He went to take a walk 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, and that’s it? So—from the Hallemans! And he learns such things from the Hallemans—the HallemansIII, 7, a2, perhaps ‘a’—yes, who knows but that it might beII. It’s no wonder—immorality, viciousness—at the French school! And now, Juffrouw Pieterse, I want to tell you that your son——”“What did you say?”Master Pennewip looked about him as if he were drinking in the breathless silence that had fallen over his hearers.Juffrouw Laps hastened to repay with compound interest that triumphant look of the hostess, while that lady, thoroughly miserable, was making frequent use of the camphor bottle. She was not so much mortified that Juffrouw Laps should hear something else unfavorable about Walter, who had caused them so much trouble, as angry that she should be the witness of an accusation that would give her a new weapon in the zoölogical fray.“Didn’t I tell you so? Nothing good will evercome to this Walter. A boy that begins with the Bible will end with something else. Yes, Master Pennewip, I’m not surprised—I shouldn’t be surprised at anything he did. I’ve seen it coming for a long time. But what shouldn’t one expect from a family——”As quick as a flash Juffrouw Pieterse saw here her opportunity to recover 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 a sucking animal?”I am convinced that Pennewip brought this question under a special category for “peculiar overflowings of the heart,” seeing that it followed upon his unfinished accusation against Walter. He looked over his glasses and slowly described with his eye a circle, peopled with women holding their breath, heads and necks stretched out and mouths wide open. The attitude of Juffrouw Laps was threatening above everything else, and said quite distinctly: Answer or die! Am I a sucking animal?“With whom have I the honor to speak?” he asked, probably not considering that this question made the matter still more mysterious, giving the impression that Laps’s animal quality depended upon her name, age, place of residence, family relations, etc.“I am Juffrouw Laps,” she said, “and live down stairs in the front part 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 again triumphant. In politics and the citizenpopulace complete equilibrium is impossible. The parties or powers are in continual motion, first one 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 a thing? 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—front entrance——”“You miss the significance of my question entirely, Juffrouw Laps. The meaning would be similar if I were to ask you if you belonged to that class of organisms that live in oyster-shells.”“Yes, yes, Juffrouw Laps,” cried the triumphant hostess, “that’s the point—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 to herself that she didn’t usually reside in an oyster-shell. She looked at the teacher with astonishment; but he paid no attention at all to the effect of his questions. Assuming a sort of legal manner—which was 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 living young into the world?”“It is a sin, Master Pennewip!”The wig now looked like a battering-ram, anticipating the nature of the next question.“Can you lay eggs, Juffrouw Laps? I only ask you the question. Can you 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 vanquished Juffrouw Laps.I wonder what the reader’s idea is of the effect produced on the company by this terrible sentence, against which there could be no appeal. There was something pitiless in Pennewip’s manner, and in his contracted eyebrows there was no intimation of mercy.
Yes, the door-bell rang. And it rang again: So it was “for us.” Juffrouw Pieterse drew a long breath; and I must say, she did a very proper thing. While admitting that it is foolish to say what one would do if one were somebody else, still, in her place I should have drawn a long breath, too. Firstly, because I imagine she hadn’t done this for a long time; secondly, because I know how, in adverse circumstances, every change and interruption gives one ground for hope; 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 was too early for them; and this very doubt and uncertainty as to who it might be gave the crisis a favorable turn.
Mere uncertainty, even when in no way connected with what is occupying us, has a sort of paralyzing effect. Besides, when one is interrupted in one’s anger, afterwards it is difficult to find the place where one left off.
This was Juffrouw Laps’s experience; she tried it, but it wouldn’t work. 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 get them all seated again.
Trudie was commissioned to “straighten out” the children, who came off rather badly. The hostess was just about to state a new zoölogical argument, which should establish peace between the hostile parties, when the door opened and Master Pennewip stood before the agitated assembly.
He, too, was agitated: the reader knows it.
The surprise caused by the arrival of this unexpected visitor had a most favorable effect on the peace negotiations. A truce was tacitly declared, though not without the proviso, at least on Juffrouw Laps’s part, that hostilities should be reopened as soon as curiosity as to Pennewip’s visit had been sufficiently satisfied. Indeed, she was all the more willing for a truce, as it was evident from the man’s appearance that there was something momentous at hand. His wig cried out fire and murder in unmistakable tones. And that was just what the good Juffrouw Laps liked.
“Good-evening, Juffrouw Pieterse; my humblest respects. I see you have company, but——”
“That ‘doesn’t make a bit of difference,’ Master Pennewip.‘Come right in and take a seat.’”
These forms of expression were rigidly observed in the “citizen populace,” III, 7. c.
“Won’t you drink a cup with us?”
“Juffrouw Pieterse,” he said with extreme dignity, “I didn’t come here 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. Then he drew a roll of manuscript from his pocket, disarranged his wig and spoke:
“Juffrouw Pieterse! You are a worthy, respectable woman, and your husband sold shoes——”
Juffrouw Pieterse looked triumphantly at Juffrouw Laps.
“Yes, Master Pennewip, quite so; he did——”
“Don’tinterruptme, Juffrouw Pieterse. Your departed husband sold shoes. I have taught your children from little tots up to their confirmation. Haven’t I, Juffrouw Pieterse?”
“Yes, Master Pennewip,” she replied modestly; for she was afraid of that excessive dignity in Pennewip’s manner and voice.
“And I just want to ask you, Juffrouw Pieterse, whether, during all this time that your children were in my school, you ever heard any complaints—reasonable complaints—of the manner in which I, with my wife, instructed your children in reading, writing, arithmetic, national history, psalmody, sewing, knitting, drawing and religion? I put the question to you, Juffrouw Pieterse, and wait for a reply.”
An awful silence followed this speech. The Juffrouw below had every reason to be satisfied.
“But, Master Pennewip——”
“I don’t want any ‘but’, Juffrouw Pieterse. I ask you, whether you have had any complaints. Imean, of course, well grounded complaints about 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 is your son Walter?”
“Walter? Dear me! Hasn’t he come home, Trudie? He went to take a walk 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, and that’s it? So—from the Hallemans! And he learns such things from the Hallemans—the HallemansIII, 7, a2, perhaps ‘a’—yes, who knows but that it might beII. It’s no wonder—immorality, viciousness—at the French school! And now, Juffrouw Pieterse, I want to tell you that your son——”
“What did you say?”
Master Pennewip looked about him as if he were drinking in the breathless silence that had fallen over his hearers.
Juffrouw Laps hastened to repay with compound interest that triumphant look of the hostess, while that lady, thoroughly miserable, was making frequent use of the camphor bottle. She was not so much mortified that Juffrouw Laps should hear something else unfavorable about Walter, who had caused them so much trouble, as angry that she should be the witness of an accusation that would give her a new weapon in the zoölogical fray.
“Didn’t I tell you so? Nothing good will evercome to this Walter. A boy that begins with the Bible will end with something else. Yes, Master Pennewip, I’m not surprised—I shouldn’t be surprised at anything he did. I’ve seen it coming for a long time. But what shouldn’t one expect from a family——”
As quick as a flash Juffrouw Pieterse saw here her opportunity to recover 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 a sucking animal?”
I am convinced that Pennewip brought this question under a special category for “peculiar overflowings of the heart,” seeing that it followed upon his unfinished accusation against Walter. He looked over his glasses and slowly described with his eye a circle, peopled with women holding their breath, heads and necks stretched out and mouths wide open. The attitude of Juffrouw Laps was threatening above everything else, and said quite distinctly: Answer or die! Am I a sucking animal?
“With whom have I the honor to speak?” he asked, probably not considering that this question made the matter still more mysterious, giving the impression that Laps’s animal quality depended upon her name, age, place of residence, family relations, etc.
“I am Juffrouw Laps,” she said, “and live down stairs in the front part 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 again triumphant. In politics and the citizenpopulace complete equilibrium is impossible. The parties or powers are in continual motion, first one 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 a thing? 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—front entrance——”
“You miss the significance of my question entirely, Juffrouw Laps. The meaning would be similar if I were to ask you if you belonged to that class of organisms that live in oyster-shells.”
“Yes, yes, Juffrouw Laps,” cried the triumphant hostess, “that’s the point—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 to herself that she didn’t usually reside in an oyster-shell. She looked at the teacher with astonishment; but he paid no attention at all to the effect of his questions. Assuming a sort of legal manner—which was 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 living young into the world?”
“It is a sin, Master Pennewip!”
The wig now looked like a battering-ram, anticipating the nature of the next question.
“Can you lay eggs, Juffrouw Laps? I only ask you the question. Can you 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 vanquished Juffrouw Laps.
I wonder what the reader’s idea is of the effect produced on the company by this terrible sentence, against which there could be no appeal. There was something pitiless in Pennewip’s manner, and in his contracted eyebrows there was no intimation of mercy.
Chapter XThe attentive reader who knows human nature will naturally wish to know why I closed the last chapter so tamely, and why that zoölogical problem which, only a short time before had caused such a violent explosion, 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 over the battlefield and, without thinking of the famous battle between the Horatii and the Curiatii, saw with innate tactical talent the correctness of “divide and conquer.” With the forces Stotter, Mabbel, Krummel and Zipperman against the house of Pieterse—that was all right. But now that the house was supported by Pennewip’s powerful hand, it was prudent to withdraw from the battle. For who could guarantee her that she might depend upon her allies? What assurance had she that the midwife, or even Juffrouw Zipperman would not go over to the enemy?—if only out of deference to the versatile wig! No, no, no! She wouldn’t risk her rhetorical artillery in such a doubtful engagement! She was content to say to herself, “I will get even with you later.” Imagining her, with all her relations to society, multipliedby twenty or thirty millions, we would have read the next day in this or that official Laps organ something like this:“Our relations with the Pietersian empire are most cordial. The recent friendly meeting between the two sovereigns was merely that they might have the mutual pleasure of seeing one another, and had no political significance whatever. It will be seen how unfounded were those rumors of ‘strained relations,’ which were said to have been brought about by a discussion of certain characteristics of our popular princess. The reader will recall that we never gave credence to those rumors, and reported them with great reserve.”Thirdly. The third and chief cause of the armistice was—curiosity. Under the present changed circumstances whoever betrayed any anger would have to leave; and whoever left would not find out why Master Pennewip had come, or what new crime Walter had committed. Again we see the truth of the proposition, that everything has its good side.“But, Master Pennewip,” asked Juffrouw Pieterse—she threw the subdued sucking animal a look that was like a triumphant telegram, and read: Where are you now?—“but Master Pennewip, what has Walter been doing now?”“Yes, what has he been up to this time,” added Juffrouw Laps, delighted that the conversation had taken this turn, and that she was now to hear about Walter’s latest sin.For the sinner is a thing in which pious persons find much edification. As we have already seen, Juffrouw Laps was fond of edification.Pennewip was just on the point of beginning his indictment when the door-bell rang. It rang again: “It’s for us”—and in a moment our truant walked into the room.He was paler than usual, and with good reason; for strange things had happened to him since Fancy had lifted him up and borne him away.“Juffrouw Pieterse,” began Pennewip, “my school is famous, even as far away as Kattenburg. Do you hear me?”“Yes, Master Pennewip.”“I repeat it: Famous! And, too, chiefly on account of the fine moral there—I mean, of course, in my school. Religion and morality occupy the first place in my school. I could show you verses on the Deity—but I pass over that. It is sufficient for you to know that my school is famous as far as—but what am I talking about—I’ve even had a boy from Wittenburg; and I was once consulted about the education of a boy whose father lived at Muiderberg.”“Oh, Master Pennewip!”“Yes, Juffrouw, I still have the letter and could show it to you. The man was a gravedigger—the boy painted inappropriate figures on the coffins. And just for this reason I feel it my duty to tell you that I don’t intend to see my school lose its good name through that good-for-nothing boy of yours there!”Poor Walter had fallen from the clouds. That sounded quite different from a papal appointment—which he really no longer cared for, as he had just received another appointment that pleased him better.His mother wanted to pass immediately to what shecalled her “divine worship” and give him a sound thrashing, in order to satisfy the teacher that religion and morality took the first place in her house, too.But the teacher found it preferable to tell the party what the trouble was, and incidentally to strengthen the feeling of guilt in the patient.“Your son belongs to the class of robbers, murderers, ravishers of women, 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 of exclamations 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 leave small room for doubts; and I, who have chosen Walter for my hero, anticipate difficulty in convincing the reader that he was not so bad as he seemed—after his“Robber Song.”“On the steed,Off I speed,With helmet on headAnd a sword in my hand and the enemy dead;Quick, away!”“Christian souls,” cried the whole party, “is he mad?”“Rather late,Near the gateA 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 feelHow it seemed.”“Heavenly grace, what is he going to do in the cave?”“In my arm,Free from harmLay 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 burnedFor 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 fireAnd revenge!”“Mercy on us! What had they done to him!”“Revenge’s sweet,And is meetFor the King of the World——”“Is he crazy? I’ll make him a king!”“Revenge’s sweetAnd is meetFor the King of the World,Who alone is supreme, with a banner unfurledForever!”“What sort of a thing is he talking about?”“All! Hurrah!But, I say——”Everybody shuddered.“All! Hurrah!But, I sayNo 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, “for pleasure!”“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 mother had beaten him till she came to her senses again, he went to bed in the little back room, far from dissatisfied with the day’s work, and was soon dreaming of Fancy.
The attentive reader who knows human nature will naturally wish to know why I closed the last chapter so tamely, and why that zoölogical problem which, only a short time before had caused such a violent explosion, 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 over the battlefield and, without thinking of the famous battle between the Horatii and the Curiatii, saw with innate tactical talent the correctness of “divide and conquer.” With the forces Stotter, Mabbel, Krummel and Zipperman against the house of Pieterse—that was all right. But now that the house was supported by Pennewip’s powerful hand, it was prudent to withdraw from the battle. For who could guarantee her that she might depend upon her allies? What assurance had she that the midwife, or even Juffrouw Zipperman would not go over to the enemy?—if only out of deference to the versatile wig! No, no, no! She wouldn’t risk her rhetorical artillery in such a doubtful engagement! She was content to say to herself, “I will get even with you later.” Imagining her, with all her relations to society, multipliedby twenty or thirty millions, we would have read the next day in this or that official Laps organ something like this:
“Our relations with the Pietersian empire are most cordial. The recent friendly meeting between the two sovereigns was merely that they might have the mutual pleasure of seeing one another, and had no political significance whatever. It will be seen how unfounded were those rumors of ‘strained relations,’ which were said to have been brought about by a discussion of certain characteristics of our popular princess. The reader will recall that we never gave credence to those rumors, and reported them with great reserve.”
Thirdly. The third and chief cause of the armistice was—curiosity. Under the present changed circumstances whoever betrayed any anger would have to leave; and whoever left would not find out why Master Pennewip had come, or what new crime Walter had committed. Again we see the truth of the proposition, that everything has its good side.
“But, Master Pennewip,” asked Juffrouw Pieterse—she threw the subdued sucking animal a look that was like a triumphant telegram, and read: Where are you now?—“but Master Pennewip, what has Walter been doing now?”
“Yes, what has he been up to this time,” added Juffrouw Laps, delighted that the conversation had taken this turn, and that she was now to hear about Walter’s latest sin.
For the sinner is a thing in which pious persons find much edification. As we have already seen, Juffrouw Laps was fond of edification.
Pennewip was just on the point of beginning his indictment when the door-bell rang. It rang again: “It’s for us”—and in a moment our truant walked into the room.
He was paler than usual, and with good reason; for strange things had happened to him since Fancy had lifted him up and borne him away.
“Juffrouw Pieterse,” began Pennewip, “my school is famous, even as far away as Kattenburg. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Master Pennewip.”
“I repeat it: Famous! And, too, chiefly on account of the fine moral there—I mean, of course, in my school. Religion and morality occupy the first place in my school. I could show you verses on the Deity—but I pass over that. It is sufficient for you to know that my school is famous as far as—but what am I talking about—I’ve even had a boy from Wittenburg; and I was once consulted about the education of a boy whose father lived at Muiderberg.”
“Oh, Master Pennewip!”
“Yes, Juffrouw, I still have the letter and could show it to you. The man was a gravedigger—the boy painted inappropriate figures on the coffins. And just for this reason I feel it my duty to tell you that I don’t intend to see my school lose its good name through that good-for-nothing boy of yours there!”
Poor Walter had fallen from the clouds. That sounded quite different from a papal appointment—which he really no longer cared for, as he had just received another appointment that pleased him better.
His mother wanted to pass immediately to what shecalled her “divine worship” and give him a sound thrashing, in order to satisfy the teacher that religion and morality took the first place in her house, too.
But the teacher found it preferable to tell the party what the trouble was, and incidentally to strengthen the feeling of guilt in the patient.
“Your son belongs to the class of robbers, murderers, ravishers of women, 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 of exclamations 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 leave small room for doubts; and I, who have chosen Walter for my hero, anticipate difficulty in convincing the reader that he was not so bad as he seemed—after his
“Robber Song.”“On the steed,Off I speed,With helmet on headAnd a sword in my hand and the enemy dead;Quick, away!”
“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 gateA push and a blow,Vanquished dragoon, Margrave laid low——”
“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!”
“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——”
“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——”
“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 feelHow it seemed.”
“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 harmLay the maid as we sped;Her cries, sweet complaints, and the tears——”
“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!”
“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——”
“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 burnedFor fun.”
“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 fireAnd revenge!”
“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 meetFor the King of the World——”
“Revenge’s sweet,
And is meet
For the King of the World——”
“Is he crazy? I’ll make him a king!”
“Revenge’s sweetAnd is meetFor the King of the World,Who alone is supreme, with a banner unfurledForever!”
“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——”
“All! Hurrah!
But, I say——”
Everybody shuddered.
“All! Hurrah!But, I sayNo pardon shall be lavished,The men shall be hanged and the women——”
“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 men shall be hanged and the women ravished——”
“The camphor bottle! Trudie, Trudie!”
“For pleasure!”
“For pleasure!”
“For pleasure,” repeated the teacher in a grave-yard voice, “for pleasure!”
“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 mother had beaten him till she came to her senses again, he went to bed in the little back room, far from dissatisfied with the day’s work, and was soon dreaming of Fancy.
Chapter XIOn the next day things had largely resumed their wonted course. That someone may not charge me with carelessness, or indifference towards the persons with whom we spent a pleasant evening, I will remark in passing that Juffrouw Mabbel was again busy with her baking and “clairvoyange,” and that Mrs. Stotter had resumed her activities with the stork. Those unfortunate creatures who were committed to her care she condemned to lie motionless for two or three months—perhaps to give 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 future grandparents of the past. His wig had not yet recovered from the excitement 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 in the papers whose clearness, conciseness and sublimity betray his master hand. I have heard that he died of smallpox—he had not been vaccinated; it will be remembered—but I consider it my duty to protect him from any such slander. A genius does not die; otherwise it wouldn’t be worth while to be born a genius. Still, if Klaashad died like other people, his spirit would have lived in those coming after him. And that is a beautiful immortality.The family de Wilde, too, has not died out, and will not die. I am certain of it.Juffrouw Krummel asked her husband if she was really a “sucking animal.” Being from the bourse, and having much worldly wisdom, he replied after reflection that of such things he didn’t believe more than half he heard. “In this case the last half,” he added—but softly.Juffrouw Zipperman had caught a cold; but was still able to boast about her son-in-law. She was a “respectable woman.” Only she couldn’t endure for Juffrouw Laps to talk so much about “virtue,” and the “respectability” of her father, who was “in the grain business.” Old Man Laps, she said, was notin, butunderthe grain business. He had carried sacks of grain, but that was quite different from selling grain. For the man who sells is much bigger than the man who carries. Juffrouw, therefore, had been making misleading statements.Trudie and her sisters had decked themselves out as well as possible and were sitting at the window. When young people passed by they looked as if they had never in their lives straightened out anybody.The Juffrouw in the rear below told the grocer that she was going to move out; for it was just scandalous, simply scandalous the way the Pieterses carried on in their back room; that she couldn’t leave anything uncovered.Juffrouw Pieterse was busy with her household,and looked like a working woman. From time to time she had “divine service” with the children, who, if they could have had their choice, would have preferred to have been born among the Alfures, Dajaks, or some other benighted people whose religion is less strenuous.I am glad to be able to say that Juffrouw Laps had passed a good night. I should like to tell more about her, but I don’t care to exhaust myself.Stoffel had returned to school, and was trying to inspire the boys with contempt for riches. He was using on them a poem that had probably been written in a garret by some poor devil or other whose wealth gave him little cause for complaint. The boys were inattentive, and seemed not to grasp the peculiar pleasure in having no money to buy marbles. Stoffel attributed their hard-heartedness to Walter’s crazy ideas: They had heard of his attack on the Margrave and of that remarkable visit to the cave.And Walter?He still lived in expectation of the punishment he deserved so richly. For his mother had given him to understand repeatedly that the little “straightening out” of the evening before was merely for practice, and that the reward of his sin would be delayed till she could speak with the preacher about it.In the meanwhile Walter didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t return to 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 do if I let him out of my sight?” said his mother, who was presumably afraid that hemight make a fresh attack on the cloisters. As a matter of fact, she denied him this privilege merely because Walter asked it.She expressed the opinion that it was best not to let bad children have their own way.If Walter had been right wise, he would have pretended to be thoroughly in 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 ladies did 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 used to 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 crooked knees, 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 easily his childish soul was moved by whatever seemed great to him. He was a pure child, and he was a good boy. He wouldn’t have hurt a fly. The criminal character of his song was due to his desire to grasp what is greater than everything else and to be the leader in that world created by his childish fancy.Robber—good! But a first-class robber, a robber of robbers, a robber without mercy—for pleasure!As to the gross mistreatment of women mentioned in his song, he had no idea what it meant. He used the word for the sake of rhyme, and because from certain sentences in his book he had got the impression that it must afford great pleasure.If, perchance, for those fourteen stivers Grandisson—weary remembrance—had fallen into his hands, his Wednesday’s poem would have been quite different. No doubt he would have sought a reconciliation with the butcher’s Keesje, forgiving him completely all his liberties with “Holland nobility” and even presenting him a few slate pencils.For that is the striking characteristic of spirits such as Walter’s. Whatever they are, they are that with all their might, always going further in any direction than they would seem to be warranted 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 notunderstandit and are ashamed to admit our ignorance—if through some chance they 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 anyone whose soul is differently organized from ours. How does the watch move? asks the child, and cannot rest until he has torn apart the wheels he could not understand. There the watch lies in pieces, and the little miscreant excuses himself with the remark that he just wanted to see how it was made.
On the next day things had largely resumed their wonted course. That someone may not charge me with carelessness, or indifference towards the persons with whom we spent a pleasant evening, I will remark in passing that Juffrouw Mabbel was again busy with her baking and “clairvoyange,” and that Mrs. Stotter had resumed her activities with the stork. Those unfortunate creatures who were committed to her care she condemned to lie motionless for two or three months—perhaps to give 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 future grandparents of the past. His wig had not yet recovered from the excitement 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 in the papers whose clearness, conciseness and sublimity betray his master hand. I have heard that he died of smallpox—he had not been vaccinated; it will be remembered—but I consider it my duty to protect him from any such slander. A genius does not die; otherwise it wouldn’t be worth while to be born a genius. Still, if Klaashad died like other people, his spirit would have lived in those coming after him. And that is a beautiful immortality.
The family de Wilde, too, has not died out, and will not die. I am certain of it.
Juffrouw Krummel asked her husband if she was really a “sucking animal.” Being from the bourse, and having much worldly wisdom, he replied after reflection that of such things he didn’t believe more than half he heard. “In this case the last half,” he added—but softly.
Juffrouw Zipperman had caught a cold; but was still able to boast about her son-in-law. She was a “respectable woman.” Only she couldn’t endure for Juffrouw Laps to talk so much about “virtue,” and the “respectability” of her father, who was “in the grain business.” Old Man Laps, she said, was notin, butunderthe grain business. He had carried sacks of grain, but that was quite different from selling grain. For the man who sells is much bigger than the man who carries. Juffrouw, therefore, had been making misleading statements.
Trudie and her sisters had decked themselves out as well as possible and were sitting at the window. When young people passed by they looked as if they had never in their lives straightened out anybody.
The Juffrouw in the rear below told the grocer that she was going to move out; for it was just scandalous, simply scandalous the way the Pieterses carried on in their back room; that she couldn’t leave anything uncovered.
Juffrouw Pieterse was busy with her household,and looked like a working woman. From time to time she had “divine service” with the children, who, if they could have had their choice, would have preferred to have been born among the Alfures, Dajaks, or some other benighted people whose religion is less strenuous.
I am glad to be able to say that Juffrouw Laps had passed a good night. I should like to tell more about her, but I don’t care to exhaust myself.
Stoffel had returned to school, and was trying to inspire the boys with contempt for riches. He was using on them a poem that had probably been written in a garret by some poor devil or other whose wealth gave him little cause for complaint. The boys were inattentive, and seemed not to grasp the peculiar pleasure in having no money to buy marbles. Stoffel attributed their hard-heartedness to Walter’s crazy ideas: They had heard of his attack on the Margrave and of that remarkable visit to the cave.
And Walter?
He still lived in expectation of the punishment he deserved so richly. For his mother had given him to understand repeatedly that the little “straightening out” of the evening before was merely for practice, and that the reward of his sin would be delayed till she could speak with the preacher about it.
In the meanwhile Walter didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t return to 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 do if I let him out of my sight?” said his mother, who was presumably afraid that hemight make a fresh attack on the cloisters. As a matter of fact, she denied him this privilege merely because Walter asked it.
She expressed the opinion that it was best not to let bad children have their own way.
If Walter had been right wise, he would have pretended to be thoroughly in 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 ladies did 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 used to 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 crooked knees, 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 easily his childish soul was moved by whatever seemed great to him. He was a pure child, and he was a good boy. He wouldn’t have hurt a fly. The criminal character of his song was due to his desire to grasp what is greater than everything else and to be the leader in that world created by his childish fancy.
Robber—good! But a first-class robber, a robber of robbers, a robber without mercy—for pleasure!
As to the gross mistreatment of women mentioned in his song, he had no idea what it meant. He used the word for the sake of rhyme, and because from certain sentences in his book he had got the impression that it must afford great pleasure.
If, perchance, for those fourteen stivers Grandisson—weary remembrance—had fallen into his hands, his Wednesday’s poem would have been quite different. No doubt he would have sought a reconciliation with the butcher’s Keesje, forgiving him completely all his liberties with “Holland nobility” and even presenting him a few slate pencils.
For that is the striking characteristic of spirits such as Walter’s. Whatever they are, they are that with all their might, always going further in any direction than they would seem to be warranted 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 notunderstandit and are ashamed to admit our ignorance—if through some chance they 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 anyone whose soul is differently organized from ours. How does the watch move? asks the child, and cannot rest until he has torn apart the wheels he could not understand. There the watch lies in pieces, and the little miscreant excuses himself with the remark that he just wanted to see how it was made.
Chapter XIIWalter sat with his elbows on the table, his chin resting in his hands. He seemed to be deeply interested in Leentje’s sewing, but we 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 only occasionally, when Juffrouw Pieterse left the room, did she have an opportunity 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 be who was caught in between the thrashing of yesterday and the priest of to-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 another house.”“Yes, it was Amalia’s father—but that isn’t it. I have something to tell 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 duck came—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 you want 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 if you were mad.”Walter had a vision. He stretched himself up, cast a proud glance at the beams in the ceiling, placed his right hand over his heart, extended his left, as if he were draping a Spanish mantle about him—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 out of 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 this new dignity.Long before the beginning of this story—yes, a longtime before this—there was a queen of spirits, just like in “Hans Heiling.” Her name 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 with a motion of her hand she drove away the firmaments.Her children played with planets as with marbles, and she complained that it was so difficult for her to find them again when they had rolled away under the furniture.The little son of the queen,PrinceUpsilon, was peevish over this and 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 paid more attention to his playthings.They tried to satisfy him as best they could, but no matter what they gave him, he always wanted something else, something larger. This was 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 accustom himself to privations.She issued an order, therefore, that for a certain time Upsilon was to have no playthings.The order was carried out. Everything was takenaway from him, even the comet that he and his little sister Omicron happened to be playing with.Prince Upsilon was somewhat stubborn. He so far forgot himself one day as to speak disrespectfully to his mother.Even Princess Omicron was contaminated by his example—nothing is worse than a bad example—and violently threw her pallet against the universe. That was not becoming in a girl.Now, in the kingdom of spirits, there was a law to the effect, that anyone showing disrespect toward the queen, or throwing anything against the universe, should be deprived of all titles and dignities for a certain length of time.Prince Upsilon became a grain of sand.After he had behaved himself well in this capacity for a few centuries he 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. In recognition 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 harmed anyone. Soon he received four feet and the rank of a mastodon, with the 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 time taken together is only as a short quarter of an hour—or to speak more correctly, 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 to children. For spirits, present, past and future are all the same. They comprehend yesterday, to-day and to-morrow at a glance, just as one reads a word without spelling it out. What was and is going to be,is.The Egyptians and Phœnicians knew that very well, but Christians have forgotten it.Fancy knew that Walter could not read, so she related Upsilon’s story to 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 years as 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 a spirit-prince in a short time and escape any further degradation it was necessary for him to be diligent and well behaved in his present state, and not write any robber songs, or slip out things and sell them—even if it was only a Bible.And, too, he must become reconciled to seeing JuffrouwPieterse without a train on her dress. Fancy said it couldn’t be helped.This “Fancy” must have been some lady at his mother’s court, who visited him in his exile to comfort and encourage him, so that he wouldn’t think they were punishing him because they were angry with 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 with it all and promises to improve. At first she was a fire-ball; but she behaved so nicely that she was soon changed to a moon-beam; and also in this state there was nothing against her. It seemed to be a pleasure for her; and it was all her mother could do to keep from shortening the punishment. She was soon turned into vapor, and stood the test well; for she filled the universe. That was about the time you began to eat grass. Soon she was a butterfly. But your mother did not consider this suitable for a girl and had her changed into a 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 holds in 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. Each must undergo his punishment alone. It’s already a great concession that you two are imprisoned in the same universe. Recently, when your little brothers flooded the milky way with sin, they were separated completely.”Walter was sad. How gladly would he have kissed his little sister!—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 of accomplishing 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 eat grass or build continents—I will eat and build with pleasure, if I may 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 heard the 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 called out just like other sawmills: “Karre, karre, kra, kra——”Thereupon Walter went home. We have already seen what awaited him there.
Walter sat with his elbows on the table, his chin resting in his hands. He seemed to be deeply interested in Leentje’s sewing, but we 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 only occasionally, when Juffrouw Pieterse left the room, did she have an opportunity 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 be who was caught in between the thrashing of yesterday and the priest of to-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 another house.”
“Yes, it was Amalia’s father—but that isn’t it. I have something to tell 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 duck came—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 you want 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 if you were mad.”
Walter had a vision. He stretched himself up, cast a proud glance at the beams in the ceiling, placed his right hand over his heart, extended his left, as if he were draping a Spanish mantle about him—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 out of 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 this new dignity.
Long before the beginning of this story—yes, a longtime before this—there was a queen of spirits, just like in “Hans Heiling.” Her name 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 with a motion of her hand she drove away the firmaments.
Her children played with planets as with marbles, and she complained that it was so difficult for her to find them again when they had rolled away under the furniture.
The little son of the queen,PrinceUpsilon, was peevish over this and 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 paid more attention to his playthings.
They tried to satisfy him as best they could, but no matter what they gave him, he always wanted something else, something larger. This was 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 accustom himself to privations.
She issued an order, therefore, that for a certain time Upsilon was to have no playthings.
The order was carried out. Everything was takenaway from him, even the comet that he and his little sister Omicron happened to be playing with.
Prince Upsilon was somewhat stubborn. He so far forgot himself one day as to speak disrespectfully to his mother.
Even Princess Omicron was contaminated by his example—nothing is worse than a bad example—and violently threw her pallet against the universe. That was not becoming in a girl.
Now, in the kingdom of spirits, there was a law to the effect, that anyone showing disrespect toward the queen, or throwing anything against the universe, should be deprived of all titles and dignities for a certain length of time.
Prince Upsilon became a grain of sand.
After he had behaved himself well in this capacity for a few centuries he 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. In recognition 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 harmed anyone. Soon he received four feet and the rank of a mastodon, with the 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 time taken together is only as a short quarter of an hour—or to speak more correctly, 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 to children. For spirits, present, past and future are all the same. They comprehend yesterday, to-day and to-morrow at a glance, just as one reads a word without spelling it out. What was and is going to be,is.
The Egyptians and Phœnicians knew that very well, but Christians have forgotten it.
Fancy knew that Walter could not read, so she related Upsilon’s story to 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 years as 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 a spirit-prince in a short time and escape any further degradation it was necessary for him to be diligent and well behaved in his present state, and not write any robber songs, or slip out things and sell them—even if it was only a Bible.
And, too, he must become reconciled to seeing JuffrouwPieterse without a train on her dress. Fancy said it couldn’t be helped.
This “Fancy” must have been some lady at his mother’s court, who visited him in his exile to comfort and encourage him, so that he wouldn’t think they were punishing him because they were angry with 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 with it all and promises to improve. At first she was a fire-ball; but she behaved so nicely that she was soon changed to a moon-beam; and also in this state there was nothing against her. It seemed to be a pleasure for her; and it was all her mother could do to keep from shortening the punishment. She was soon turned into vapor, and stood the test well; for she filled the universe. That was about the time you began to eat grass. Soon she was a butterfly. But your mother did not consider this suitable for a girl and had her changed into a 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 holds in 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. Each must undergo his punishment alone. It’s already a great concession that you two are imprisoned in the same universe. Recently, when your little brothers flooded the milky way with sin, they were separated completely.”
Walter was sad. How gladly would he have kissed his little sister!—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 of accomplishing 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 eat grass or build continents—I will eat and build with pleasure, if I may 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 heard the 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 called out just like other sawmills: “Karre, karre, kra, kra——”
Thereupon Walter went home. We have already seen what awaited him there.