AT KARANG ANJER. AN ACQUITTAL.
Yes, it was true enough, all poor van Nerekool's trouble had been
absolutely in vain.
When he got to Karang Anjer he found in Mrs. Steenvlak a most amiable
and highly accomplished lady, who, in her husband's absence, received
him most kindly and hospitably; but who, as regards Anna van Gulpendam,
refused to give him the slightest information.
The young lawyer did his very best--he questioned and cross-questioned
his hostess; but he had to do with a shrewd and clever woman who was
quite able to hold her own, and would give him no direct answers. Most
amiable Mrs. Steenvlak was no doubt; but he could get no information
out of her; and all her replies to his oft-repeated questions left our
despairing lover in the greatest perplexity. He begged and entreated,
and she listened to him with the most unwearying patience, she showed
even the deepest sympathy for his distress; but nevertheless nothing
could move her to divulge anything.
"Yes," said she, "Anna has been staying with us for the last few weeks,
and I am happy to say, Mr. van Nerekool, that I succeeded in becoming
her friend, and in obtaining her confidence. I will tell you further,
that in her despair, the poor girl has told me everything--you
understand me, do you not, when I say everything? She has told me
of your mutual affection, and she has also shown me the barrier,
the insurmountable barrier, which must for ever keep you apart."
"Madam!" cried van Nerekool in dismay at her words.
"And," continued Mrs. Steenvlak, "I am bound to tell you that I think
the dear girl is right in every word she says. Of a marriage between
you and her there cannot possibly be any further question; not even if
you could succeed in winning the full consent of her parents. Utter
misery for both of you would be the inevitable result of so foolish
a step. Anna is, in my opinion, quite right when she maintains that
a woman must have an unsullied name for her dowry."
"But, madam!" passionately cried van Nerekool, "Anna is blameless
and pure!"
"I am speaking of her name, Mr. van Nerekool, not of her person. A man
must be able to pronounce his wife's name without having to blush as
he mentions it. Her parents must possess his esteem, and they must be
worthy of his respect. If those conditions do not exist then, for both
man and wife, existence must soon become intolerable. It must become so
to him; for he will always have to be carefully on his guard, weighing
every word he speaks or leaves unspoken; and this restraint soon must
banish all real confidence between them. Every heedless expression,
on the other hand, would inevitably inflict a wound upon her, and,
in the most innocent utterances, she needs must see some hidden
meaning. In fact, under such circumstances, no compromise is possible."
"But, Mrs. Steenvlak," insisted van Nerekool, "I have proposed
to Anna that we should leave Java altogether and go to Australia,
to Singapore, or to any other place she might prefer. There no one
would know the name of van Gulpendam, and we might live only for
one another--and--and, I believe that our love would enable us to
forget the dreary past, and thus a compromise might very easily be
possible. As far as I am concerned no single word would ever drop
from my lips which would allude to the past--I know how deeply any
such hint must wound her, and, believe me, I love her far too dearly
to inflict upon her the slightest pain."
"Oh yes, Mr. van Nerekool, of that I have no doubt whatever; but, you
see, that very silence, that very reticence on your part would be most
painful to her; and it would ultimately become too great a restraint
upon you also--you could not possibly bear it. But, for the matter
of that, I must tell you that, with respect to your letters to her,
she has never told me a single word."
"How could she do so?" asked van Nerekool, "all my letters have been
returned to me unopened."
"I am glad of it," replied Mrs. Steenvlak, "there again Anna has acted
most wisely; and in acting thus she has spared herself, and you too,
much useless sorrow. Every communication from you, every effort on
your part to remove the existing obstacles between you, could only
be most painful, and could not possibly lead to any good result."
"Madam!" cried van Nerekool.
"You said, for instance, just now, that you have proposed to Anna
to go to Singapore, and to be married there. But, just consider, how
could you have undertaken that journey? Separately? I do not suppose
that you could intend so young a girl to undertake such a journey
alone. Together? You feel at once how such a proposition would have
wounded her modesty and her feelings. No, I am glad indeed that she
had the courage not to read your letters."
"But, Mrs. Steenvlak," said van Nerekool, adopting another tone,
"supposing that I were prepared to accept the present circumstances
as they are?"
"What can you mean?" asked Mrs. Steenvlak in some surprise.
"Supposing," continued he, "that in spite of her parents, in spite
of all that has occurred, I should be prepared to make her my wife?"
"Mr. van Nerekool," replied Mrs. Steenvlak very seriously, "do not
speak so wildly I pray. In spite of her parents! That must mean that
you are prepared to accept all the consequences such a step would
entail. In other words, that you are prepared to show her parents that
respect and that esteem which they could justly claim from you as their
son-in-law. But do you not see that by thus acting you would be making
yourself contemptible in Anna's eyes?--you would be taking away the
last support the girl still has to cling to in her exile. Believe me,
the cruellest blow you can strike a woman of her nature, is to prove
to her that she placed her affections on one unworthy of her. The
unsullied image of him whom once she loved--whom she perhaps still
fondly loves--gives her, in spite of the obstacles which separate
you from one another, the best consolation in her sorrow. And that
pure remembrance will be to her, together with the consciousness of
having acted strictly in accordance with her duty, her chief support
in a lonely life."
As Mrs. Steenvlak was speaking, Charles van Nerekool had covered his
face with his hands. At her last words however he sprang up from his
chair, he took her hand and said:
"A lonely life you say? Oh, do tell me where Anna now is. I will go
to her, perhaps even yet I may succeed in winning her--tell me where
to find her!"
"Mr. van Nerekool," rejoined Mrs. Steenvlak, very quietly, "do not,
I pray you, try to do any such thing. She has given me her fullest
confidence, and I do not intend to betray it. She has told me every
detail, she has consulted me about the line of conduct she ought to
adopt; and in all she does she has my sanction. Do you think that I
would throw fresh difficulties in her way? You surely cannot wish me
to do so."
"But," cried van Nerekool passionately, "what does she intend to
do--what kind of plans has she formed?"
"She simply intends henceforth to live forgotten."
"Perhaps to mar--!" cried he.
"My dear sir," hastily interrupted Mrs. Steenvlak, "do not pronounce
that word, I forbid you to do so. In your mouth such a word conveys a
foul calumny. She has refused your hand--she will never marry another."
"But what then does she intend to do?"
"I have told you," replied Mrs. Steenvlak, "she intends to live in
perfect solitude and oblivion; and thus she wishes quietly to await
death, which, she hopes, will soon release her from all her troubles."
"She is ill then?" cried he in dismay.
"No, she is not ill," replied Mrs. Steenvlak; "but such a trial as
she has gone through is not at all unlikely to impair a young girl's
health; and may very probably shorten her life."
"Madam," cried van Nerekool, "your words are torture!"
"I am telling you the simple truth."
"Oh tell me--where is she?"
"Never," was the quiet reply.
"Is she in Java? Is she in India?"
"I will not give you the slightest clue."
"Has she gone to Europe? Oh, I beg and pray you, have pity upon me
and deliver me from this fearful suspense?"
"I will tell you nothing at all. Do you understand me, Mr. van
Nerekool? nothing at all."
"Can I not in any way move you to pity?"
"No, Mr. van Nerekool, I intend to remain true to my word and,
moreover--"
"But, madam," interrupted van Nerekool vehemently, "you must take
pity upon my wretchedness!"
"Moreover," continued Mrs. Steenvlak calmly, "I feel certain that in
acting as I am doing, and in keeping absolute silence, I am preventing
much future misery."
"You are hard, you are pitiless!" cried the young man in despair,
as he rushed from the house. For a couple of days longer he stayed at
Karang Anjer, at the house of the regent of that dessa who entertained
him with the utmost hospitality.
He cross-examined his host. "Yes--he knew nonna Anna well. She had
frequently, in company with the njonja, called upon his wife; but
she had gone away without letting anyone know where she intended to
go to. His wife and he thought that she had gone back to Santjoemeh."
The unhappy lover kept wandering about the neighbourhood, making
inquiries everywhere. He tried to obtain some clue from the
loerahs, from the overseer, from the postmasters round about; but
nowhere--nowhere--could he obtain the slightest information. Either
these people really knew nothing, or else they were obeying orders
and would tell him nothing. This seemed to van Nerekool most likely,
as he heard at a certain posting station that no one could tell where
the young lady had gone. During his wanderings he sat down at many
a guard house, and again and again he put the same question: "Could
anyone tell him where to look for the young European lady?" But it
was only to receive the same answer over and over again, "No, sir."
In his distress and perplexity, he at length left Karang Anjer and
went to Tjilatjap, for he wanted to find out whether there was any
truth in the report which van Gulpendam had so assiduously circulated,
namely that his daughter had gone to Europe. Very luckily for him the
regent of Karang Anjer possessed a travelling carriage which he placed
at the disposal of his guest. This was a most fortunate thing for van
Nerekool; for he would otherwise have had to travel the fifty-two
miles to the harbour on horseback, and, in his desponding frame of
mind, the fatigue of so long a journey might have had the most serious
effect upon his health. The road from Karang Anjer to Tjilatjap lies
on one continuous plain which is but very little above the sea-level,
while the hills which rise close to the Indian Ocean run north and
south, thus preventing the free circulation of land and sea breezes
and rendering the atmosphere exceedingly oppressive and stifling.
When van Nerekool reached the harbour, he found that there also he
could obtain no tidings. Neither the assistant resident of that place,
nor the harbour-master nor any of the agents of the steam Navigation
Company--nor, in fact any of the other shipping agents, knew anything
about the departure of a young girl to Australia or to any other
country. For months past no strange ship had sailed from that port;
and the boats of the India Navigation Company which run to Australia,
do not go along the South coast of Java but get into the Indian Ocean
by the Bali straits. It was evident, therefore, that van Gulpendam's
tale of two ladies under whose escort Anna travelled to Europe,
was a merely trumped-up story.
Weary and sick at heart, van Nerekool was forced to return to Wonosobo
by way of Bandjar Negara. There he stayed for a little while longer,
and when, in that magnificent climate, he had almost entirely regained
his health and strength, he went back to Santjoemeh where he found
his friends, August van Beneden, Leendert Grashuis, Theodoor Grenits
and Edward van Rheijn anxiously waiting to welcome him home.
"Well?" was the question of all of them as soon as they had made
inquiries after their friend's health, "well?"
The question alluded of course to his inquiries, for the anxiety and
the efforts of van Nerekool had remained no secret among them.
"Nothing!" replied van Nerekool fetching a deep sigh, "I have found
out nothing, not even the faintest clue."
"No more have I," added Grenits.
"You?" asked Charles in surprise.
"Yes," rejoined the young merchant. "I also have been at work. I
have made inquiries amongst all the commercial men in Dutch India;
but from all sides I have had but one answer. 'No young girl in any
way corresponding to the description of Miss van Gulpendam has started
from any of the shipping stations.'"
"You think therefore--?" asked van Nerekool.
"I think that Miss van Gulpendam has not left Java at all."
"But where on earth can she be then?" cried van Rheijn.
"God only knows!" sighed van Nerekool.
"But her parents?" observed Leendert Grashuis, "we can hardly suppose
that a young lady of her age could have thus disappeared without
consulting her parents."
"No," said van Rheijn, "especially as we know that Resident van
Gulpendam is not exactly the papa to play tricks with."
"Yet," rejoined van Nerekool, "I am of opinion that neither the
Resident nor his wife have the least idea where Anna now is."
Thereupon he told his friends all about his conversation with
Mrs. Steenvlak; and when he had given them a detailed account of
all that passed between him and that lady, he concluded by saying,
"She only could give us the information we want if she would."
"If that be so," remarked van Beneden, "we ought to search in the
neighbourhood of Karang Anjer."
"I have done so," was van Nerekool's reply, "I have most minutely
searched the entire district. I have questioned everybody whom I
considered in the least likely to know anything about her movements;
but all my inquiries have ended in nothing."
"Well, Charles," said Grashuis, "in that case I can see nothing for
it than to leave the solution of the mystery to time."
"To time!" sighed van Nerekool, "I suppose you are right; but, my
dear friends, I am most wretched and most miserable."
"You must get to business and, by hard work, seek to divert your
thoughts," said van Beneden. "I can assure you that your absence has
not diminished the arrears of work at the Court of Justice. At all
events, brooding over your troubles can do no good whatever."
"Well," replied van Nerekool, "to work then. God grant that hard work
may have the effect you anticipate."
"That reminds me," remarked Grenits, "that to-morrow I shall have to
appear in court."
"You? what for?"
"Don't you remember Mokesuep's business?"
"Oh, aye, for the cuffs you administered to that scoundrel!"
"That will mean eight days for you, friend Theodoor," observed van
Beneden, "eight days at least of seclusion. Well, that's not so very
formidable after all."
August van Beneden was not very far wrong, for the court condemned
Grenits to ten days' imprisonment and to pay a fine of twenty-five
guilders for the assault, which, though it had led to no serious
consequences, was no light offence, inasmuch as it had been committed
on the person of a witness in a case of opium smuggling. The sentence
would probably have been much more severe; but the court made allowance
for the natural feelings of indignation called forth by the shameful
conduct of the opium police towards a defenceless young girl, at which
the plaintiff Mokesuep had been present without interfering to protect
her from insult. No sooner had the sentence been pronounced, than
every hand in a crowded court was stretched out to Theodoor Grenits,
while Mokesuep was shunned like some venomous reptile. The public
did not look upon the punishment in the light of a degradation at
all; and Grenits became the hero of the hour. A few days after this,
baboe Dalima's case came on before the native court at Santjoemeh.
The Javanese girl most emphatically denied that any opium had been
found in her possession, she even swore that she had not been searched
for any such object. She gave a very simple and unvarnished account
of all that had taken place; but the testimony of Mrs. van Gulpendam
and that of Mokesuep contradicted her assertions. The former handed
in a written statement to the effect that she had not given the baboe
leave to spend the night outside the Residence; but had only given her
permission to start on the next morning, and that she had, in fact, set
her a pretty heavy task of needlework to finish before going. Mokesuep
swore that the girl's story was a fabrication from beginning to end,
that she had violently resisted the search for opium and had bitten
Lim Ho's ear as he made an attempt at holding her hands. That, in this
struggle with the bandoelan, her dress had become torn and deranged,
and that she might very probably have received a few scratches,
but that there had been nothing resembling the outrage of which she
accused Lim Ho.
The medical officer also was examined, and he maintained that there
could have been no such assault as the girl complained of; he spoke
only of some slight abrasions which had occasioned a trifling loss
of blood.
In all this evidence the demoralising influence of the opium farmer
could plainly be seen; but however conscientious might have been the
new president who now occupied Mr. Zuidhoorn's place, the evidence
must have compelled him to dismiss the complaint lodged by Dalima
against Lim Ho.
The court, therefore, proceeded to deal with the charge of opium
smuggling of which the baboe stood accused.
The deposition left by the murdered bandoelan Singomengolo was positive
enough. It stated most distinctly that, hidden in the folds of her
sarong and under the waistband, he had found a box full of opium. That
the box in question had been delivered to Controller Verstork and
had been sealed up by him. That the contents had been examined and
were found to consist of eight matas of opium of coarse and blackish
appearance, and of a sourish smell, and that, therefore, it could
not have been obtained from the opium farmer in a legitimate way.
But, when the little box was produced in court and was shown to Lim Ho,
he hesitated for a while, and at length said that the struggle which
was going on prevented him from actually seeing Singomengolo produce
the box and that, moreover, his ear was very painful, and he was at
the time busy in trying to staunch the blood. He could not, therefore,
declare that he had seen the box at all until Singomengolo handed it
to Verstork. It thus appeared that the man, though a vile scoundrel,
was not wholly devoid of better feelings.
Not so, however, with Mokesuep. When he entered the witness-box,
bound by his oath to utter nothing but the truth, he did not for an
instant scruple to say that he had actually seen Singomengolo discover
the box hidden in the girl's clothing; and in giving his evidence he
entered so minutely into detail and gave so graphic a description of
the poor girl's struggles, that he fairly disgusted all present. Very
ominous murmurs of disapprobation arose among the crowd. This went so
far, that at length the president had to interfere, and to request
the witness to confine himself strictly to the facts, as all such
embellishments and elaborate descriptions were clearly superfluous.
The chief-djaksa appeared as public prosecutor, and, as this was
Dalima's first offence, he demanded that she should be condemned to
three months' hard labour.
August van Beneden however stood up for the defence, and drew the
attention of the court to the fact that the small box which had been
produced, was precisely similar to that other one which the bandoelan
pretended to have discovered in the hut of Setrosmito the defendant's
father. He further mentioned the rather strange coincidence, that,
on the body of Singomengolo, after his murder, a number of other
little boxes were found, all precisely similar again to that produced
against Dalima. He called the coppersmith from whom the bandoelan
had procured these boxes, and this man swore that Singomengolo had
bought twelve of them from him, at the price of seven guilders.
August van Beneden took advantage of this man's evidence to remind
the court of the dodges and tricks which all opium hunters were
well known to employ in order to secure the conviction of any one
they might accuse. Finally he altogether disputed the authority of
the individuals who had testified to the nature and value of the
opium. The document they had drawn up as containing the result of
their examination, he rejected as absolutely valueless; inasmuch as
it was the work of Chinamen who were no chemists at all; but had
come to the conclusion that the drug could not have been obtained
through the regular channels, simply on the evidence of colour, taste,
and smell. He pointed out that, as a general rule, the worst opium
smugglers were the farmers themselves, and that, in hardly any two
cases were their wretched mixtures alike. In fact he defied even the
most expert chemist to establish anything like perfect similarity
between two different decoctions of the same farmer.
The young advocate was completely successful; and the court at
Santjoemeh declared that the charge against baboe Dalima had not been
satisfactorily established, and therefore acquitted her. She was set
at liberty there and then, and the treasury was ordered to pay the
costs of the prosecution.
The verdict was hailed with thundering applause, and the public
became so demonstrative that the president had peremptorily to call
for silence. Mokesuep left the court amidst looks and gestures of
the most profound contempt and much hissing and hooting. He got into
his carriage as quickly as he could and immediately drove off. It
was evident that the public was well aware of what had taken place
in the hut by the Djoerang Pringapoes, and that everybody knew the
odious part Mokesuep had played in the transaction.
The trial was no sooner over than a crowd of well-wishers surrounded
the unfortunate Javanese girl Every one could plainly enough see the
painful situation she was in, and pitied her accordingly. Had the
law allowed further inquiry, Lim Ho might have found himself in a
difficult position; but as no legal remedy existed, the public showed
the greatest sympathy towards his victim. On all sides she received
congratulations on the happy issue of her trial, on all sides she heard
kind words and friendly offers. Van Nerekool, Grenits, Grashuis, van
Rheijn, and van Beneden, were of course close to the poor creature who,
though deeply moved by the sympathy she received, yet could not refrain
from shedding tears of sorrow as she thought of her blighted youth. Van
Nerekool proposed to place her in the house of an aged couple where
she might be sure of the kindest treatment in return for such services
as she could render to the mistress of the house. Dalima heartily
thanked the young judge for his great kindness; but she told him that
she intended to take up her abode with her mother until after the
event she was expecting. The poor girl was a genuine child of nature,
and felt no false shame as she spoke of her misfortune. She took that
opportunity, however, to gain some information about nonna Anna. But,
as we know, Charles van Nerekool could tell her nothing more than that
her young mistress had spent some time at Karang Anjer, and thereupon
had disappeared without leaving any clue as to her whereabouts.
"Karang Anjer? where is that?" asked Dalima, musingly.
Van Nerekool gave her the necessary directions, and then he proceeded
to join his friends whom Grenits had invited to his house to drink
a glass together in honour of van Beneden's victory. It was getting
somewhat late in the day and the sun's rays darting down almost
perpendicularly made the heat most oppressive; but a good pair of
horses soon brought our friends to Grenits' door.
Glad enough to get under cover, they all rushed in, and Grenits at
once cried out to his servant, "Sidin, get us some fizz quickly!" and
a few moments after the young men were congratulating van Beneden on
his well-merited success in a glass of sparkling Veuve Clicquot.
After the first burst of excitement was over, and when they had
begun to discuss somewhat more calmly the incidents of the trial,
a feeling of disappointment began to prevail.
"Is it not enough to make one despair altogether of the future of our
fair Indian possessions," cried Grashuis, "when we come to think that
we are sitting here congratulating one another on the issue of such
a case as this? Every single person, including even the members of
the court itself, is convinced that poor little Dalima is the victim
of a most detestable outrage and yet, not only does the real culprit
escape scot free, but the innocent girl herself was very near being
found guilty, and punished for a purely imaginary offence! Could such
a thing ever have happened at home? There must be something radically
wrong in our entire colonial system."
"I will tell you in one word," replied Grenits, "where the mischief
lies, it is the abominable opium trade which is at the bottom of all
this, which overrules and demoralises everything out here. You heard
the head-djaksa's prosecution? Did you ever see anything more neatly
put together? Did you notice how cleverly all the witnesses who might
have spoken in Dalima's favour were got out of the way? Verstork
sent to Atjeh, Miss van Gulpendam smuggled away somehow or other,
while Mokesuep did not fail to put in an appearance."
"The brute!" muttered van Rheijn.
"Yes," continued Grenits, "and if it had not been for our friend
August, that poor girl would have been found guilty as so many others
have been who have been falsely accused of opium crimes. Just now
you asked, Leendert, whether any such thing could possibly happen
in Holland. I do not take upon myself to say what may be possible
or impossible there; but this one thing I do know, that our whole
opium-system is derived from thence, that year by year the opium
revenue keeps on rising by several millions; and that thus the passion
for opium is, by every possible means, excited to its utmost pitch. I
further know that our Government and our Government officials are thus
compelled by the authorities at home to support the opium farmers and
to wink at all their dirty tricks with their attendant train of fatal
consequences. Is it not enough to make one hide one's head for shame
when we come to think that we belong to a nation whose sordid love of
money and grasping avarice not only tolerate such a state of things,
but actually fosters and encourages it?"
All present shook their heads and sighed; for the words Grenits
uttered were the simple truth.
"But," inquired van Rheijn, "ought we to blame the nation for all
this? Ought we not rather to find fault with the Government which
countenances such abuses?"
"The Government!" impatiently exclaimed Grenits, "a nation always
deserves the Government it has. Yes, of course, it is the Government
which issues the orders and which acts; but the nation looks on
and--is loud in its praises of a minister who can boast that he makes
as much out of the business as can be squeezed from it. It seems to
me that the Dutch people have either lost their manliness altogether
or else are on the verge of idiocy. It has no eye, no heart for its
colonies, no feeling whatever, nothing, only one single thought:
'that minister balances his budget admirably!' And then the minister,
feeling certain of success and applause, actually in his place in the
House allows himself to perpetrate jests which an ordinary individual
would be ashamed to utter in a pot-house. Then his friends applaud and
the legislature seems to consider his jokes a very pretty exhibition
of wit."
Fortunately, however, at this moment Sidin came in, and his appearance
checked the young merchant's indignant flow of words, a thing which
his friends might not have found it easy to do. The Javanese servant
held two formidable looking letters in his hand, which he offered to
his master.
"By Jove," cried van Rheijn, "two official letters! I bet you that
it is the order to send you to jail."
Grenits made no reply, but quietly opened one of the letters.
"Only a very commonplace marriage announcement," said he when he
had glanced at the paper; and then, when he had looked at it again,
he cried out:
"I say, boys, here's fun! just listen to me:--'Mr. and Mrs. Lim Yang
Bing and Mr. and Mrs. Ngow Ming Than have the honour to announce the
approaching marriage of Mr. Lim Ho, son of the former, to Miss Ngow
Ming Nio daughter of the latter. The marriage ceremony will take place
on the third of September next, and a reception will subsequently
be held at the residence of Mr. Lim Yang Bing in the Gang Pinggir
at Santjoemeh.'"
"Piping hot," remarked Grenits, "poor Dalima's trial is scarcely over!"
"A Chinese wedding must be a curious affair," said van Rheijn. "You
are going eh?"
"You may go if you like," returned van Nerekool, "I have not the
slightest objection, if only you will allow me to stay at home. I
could not, for the life of me, hold out my hand to that scoundrel
Lim Ho, or offer him even the most formal congratulations."
"Come, come," said Grashuis. "There will no doubt be a great crowd,
and it will be easy enough to get out of that part of the ceremony
without being remarked at all; who is to notice it?"
"That's right!" laughed Grenits, "that's it 'des accommodements avec
le ciel!' But just let me see what this second document is about. Upon
my word, Edward, you would have won your bet. The day after to-morrow,
I have to surrender myself into the custody of the jailer to undergo
my sentence of ten consecutive days of imprisonment."
For a few moments, a silence fell upon all present. They quite
justified Grenits' conduct, and in fact applauded it as a generous
outburst of manly indignation. But yet the fact of ten days'
imprisonment threw a gloom over these young men, who were so full of
vigour and life. The condemned man, however, was the first to regain
his cheerfulness, "Well, my friends," cried he, "you will try and
preserve me from feeling too lonely, I hope."
"That we will!" cried one, "I have a splendid novel by Ebers, called
Serapis, it has only just come out, I will send it you."
"And I," exclaimed another, "I shall have my piano sent up to the jail,
then you can strum away to your heart's content."
"And we will come and sit with you as often as we possibly can,
you will not lack company."
"That's best of all!" cried Grenits gaily.
"I will bring my fiddle."
"Yes, and I my flute."
"Then," laughed Grenits, "we shall get the whole jail to execute a
sarabande de condamnés."
"The sarabande is all very well," remarked van Beneden; "but I think
we might do something better than that."
"Well, what is it?" asked all in chorus.
"You remember, do you not, that as we were seated together under
the Wariengien tree on the green at Kaligaweh, I proposed making an
experiment in opium smoking, in order to find out what its effect
really is. Very well, on Sunday next, we might carry out that plan."
"Capital! a capital idea!"
"But," asked Grashuis, "who will provide the opium and the pipe?"
"Leave that to me," replied van Rheijn, "don't trouble about that,
I shall get all we require."
"All right, gentlemen," said Grenits, "that's a bargain!"
As he spoke he shook hands with his friends, and the company broke up.