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 long time 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, Prince Upsilon, 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 taken away 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 zoˆphyte.
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 Phoenicians 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 Juffrouw Pieterse
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.