Walter had been to church: that was now behind him. Stoffel thought
the pastor had preached a beautiful sermon, and said that "in a way
all he said could be accepted." He hoped that it would "bear fruit."
"Yes," said the mother, "and he mustn't tear his new breeches
again. They cost too much hard work for that."
As a matter of fact the "hard work" done in the Pieterse family
might be regarded as a negligible quantity. There was the necessary
housework, and the usual complaining--or boasting, if you will--but
this was to be expected.
That Walter had postponed his visit to go to church was a result of
the frightful threats of Juffrouw Laps. She cited Second Chronicles
xvi. 12, and in the face of this text the Pieterses were not able
successfully to defend their new and more liberal position. Juffrouw
Pieterse could only say that the Bible was not to be interpreted that
way, as if everything in it applied to a given individual.
But Juffrouw Laps stuck to it, that if one has faith and grace one
may come through all right; whereupon Juffrouw Pieterse expressed
her willingness at all times to take advice.
"Those are the essential things; through them we are saved! And--send
him to me the first of the week. Or he can come Sunday, but after
church. Then he can tell me about the sermon, even if the pastors
are--but what does a child know about it!"
Juffrouw Laps didn't think much of pastors. She held that people
with grace in their hearts can understand God's word without Greek
and Latin.
"Yes, Sunday after church. I will count upon it." And in order to
make her invitation more insistent she mentioned certain sweets that
she usually served her guests at that time.
Supposing that Juffrouw Laps was really anxious for Walter to come,
we must admit that she showed deep knowledge of boy-nature.
As for Walter, he was afraid to be alone with this pious lady. For
him she was the living embodiment of all the plagues that are made
use of in the Old Testament to convert rebellious tribes to the true
faith. For instance, thunder and lightning, pestilence, abysses,
boils, flaming swords, etc.
If he had had the courage he would have asked her just to deposit
the promised dainties somewhere outside of her flat. He would find
them then. But he didn't have the courage.
"And why didn't you go?" asked the mother when Stoffel's enthusiasm
over the sermon had begun to die down.
Walter said he had a pain in his stomach, which children always have
when they want to bridge over disagreeable duties. With a better
understanding between the parents and children this disease would be
less frequent.
"I don't believe you have any pain in your stomach," declared the
mother. "It's only because you're a bad child and never do what you're
told to do."
Stoffel agreed with her; and then a council of war was held. Walter
was condemned to go to Juffrouw Laps's at once; and he went.
Expecting some terrible ordeal, he was greatly embarrassed and confused
by the show of friendliness with which he was received.
"And you did come, my dear boy! But you are so late! Church has been
out a long time. See what I have for you, expressly for you!"
She thrust him into a chair at the table and shoved all sorts of
sweets over to him. Walter's embarrassment increased; and he felt
even less at ease when she began to stroke him and call him pet names.
"Now, tell me about the sermon," she said, when the child tried
to escape the tenderness and affection to which he was not
accustomed. "What did the pastor say?"
"The text----"
"But that's all right--afterwards, when your mouth is empty. You must
eat a few cakes first. Nobody can do everything at once. There is
chocolate; and you're to have a little dram, too. I've always said
that you are a nice boy; but they're forever plaguing you so. But
you're not eating enough; do just as if you were at home."
For Walter that was not the right expression. At home!
His first surprise over Walter began to be possessed by a feeling of
fear. Why, he could not have told to save him.
Suddenly he got up and declared that his mother had told him not to
stay long.
There wasn't a word of truth in it. Juffrouw Laps protested, but
Walter held his ground. Despite all of that kindness Walter was able
to escape from the enemy.
Promising "to come back soon" he ran down the steps and into the
street.
An indescribable feeling of freedom regained thrilled through him. He
had escaped. It was incomprehensible even to him. Never had he been
received so kindly, so cordially; never had he been treated in a
manner approaching this. But why his antipathy? When he left she
was going to kiss him, but he managed to dodge her. Why? He didn't
know. But it made him shudder to think of it.
Should he go home now? What excuse could he give for coming back
so soon?
Involuntarily he bent his steps toward Ash Gate. It was not his
intention to visit Femke--not at all, really not! For he didn't have
his Ophelia with him--proof conclusive that when he left home he had
not thought of Femke.
And when he came in sight of his mills on the Buitensingel--oh,
they were silent! Was there no wind? Or were they observing Sunday?
The Buitensingel was full of people taking a Sunday stroll. Walter
followed the small stream, which led him towards Femke's house. Soon he
stood before the low enclosure; but he did not dare to go in. Why? He
put the blame on the absent Ophelia.
"If I only had that picture here I'd certainly go in!"
That is questionable. Even with the picture he would have probably
been just as shy. He didn't know what he ought to say--or, better,
whether he could say anything, or not. He reflected. Suppose Femke's
mother should ask, "Did you want anything?"
We--yes, the "gentle reader" and I--we should have known what to
answer. I wonder if our wisdom would have been wiser than the stupidity
of the child, who stood irresolute and hesitating before the fence?
He stood staring at the house, his mouth wide open. His knees trembled,
his heart fluttered, his tongue was dry.
A small column of smoke curling up from the chimney aroused him. What
if a fire should break out! Then he would have to go in. He would
rescue her, and carry her away in his arms--far, far away--to the end
of the world, or at least outside of the town! Just anywhere where
the people wear red velvet and green silk, where the gentlemen carry
big swords and the ladies wear long trains. They would be so becoming
to Femke. And she should ride horseback, and he would follow her--no,
he would ride by her side, with a falcon on his hand!
If a fire should break out!
But Walter saw that the house was in no danger. This smoke came from
the kitchen. He noticed other houses in the neighborhood where cooking
seemed to be going on, and everywhere the chimneys were bearing witness
to activities below which were presumably similar to those of Femke.
Finally a crowd of fellows came along who had evidently been stopping
at one of those establishments where "refreshments" are served. They
had been greatly refreshed, and in their exuberance of freshness,
so to say, they crowded Walter away from the fence and took him along
with them for a little way.
He was easily reconciled to this; for why, he thought, should he
stand there and watch the smoke? There wasn't going to be any fire;
and then he didn't have Ophelia with him.
But to-morrow! To-morrow he would bring that picture with him! And
then he wouldn't stand at the fence like a baby.
He felt ashamed when he thought of his friends in their gay colors,
or in armor, with plumes and swords. Those kings and knights and
pages--they had been courageous, otherwise they never would have
received such high orders and distinctions. Unless there were some
change, he felt that he would never be pictured like that.
However, he expected that such a change would come--without doubt,
surely, certainly, truly! The further he went, the more determined
he became to go in the next day and put on a bold front and say:
"Good-day, Juffrouw, how do you do?"
It was more difficult for him to decide what he would say to Femke.
He made up various little speeches in the manner of Floris the
Fifth. In case Femke shouldn't like them he was going to say, "Why,
that is from our greatest poet."
And then he would ask her to explain a lot of mysterious words
in Floris that he hadn't understood--for instance, "fast fellow,"
"coverture," "chastity," and others.
Walter's development was determined by his desire to know things. His
feeling for Femke, which was hardly real love, was subordinated to
his thirst for knowledge. He knew that he couldn't get much from her,
especially book-learning; but it was a pleasure merely to discuss
things with her, even if she knew nothing about them.
He was curious to know all that she might have to tell him, or to ask
him; for no doubt she too had been saving up her impressions for her
first friend. But, alas! he was not so certain of her friendship! True,
when he was sick she had asked about him; but perhaps she was just
passing by, and thought how easy it would be to ring the bell and ask,
"How is Walter?"
Still it had taken courage to do it. What would Mungo Park have said
if he had seen him hesitating before the gate! Walter knew that wasn't
the way to conquer the world.
And if anybody had asked Mungo Park: "What do you want in Africa?"
Well, he would have answered. Such a traveller in such a book is
never embarrassed.
Then Walter began to address all sorts of remarks to negro kings
that he had conquered with lance and sword. All the women kissed his
hand as he rode by on his bay, with fiery red caparison. He inquired
patronizingly after those good girls who had nursed him in his illness,
"because the strange white man was far from mother and sisters and
had no home." He would reward them princely.
In all this conquered land Walter was king and Femke was--queen! How
magnificent the big red velvet cloak would look on her--and the
gold crown!
Conquering continents was easy. He was scarcely thirteen; and yet
he was afraid that somebody might get ahead of him while he was
being detained by the treacherous Pennewip with declensions and
conjugations. And, then there were still more things to learn before
one could be king, even of a small country. Pocket-change would have
to be increased too, for, with all possible economy, six doits a week
were insufficient. The Hallemans--well, they had more; but fortunately
they were not thinking of Africa. For the present he was not afraid
of any competition from that quarter; but other children, nearer the
"grown-up" stage, might get the idea in their heads! And then, what
would he do to keep his mother from guessing when he made his trips
into the "interior" longer, and stayed out later than was allowed by
the regulations of the Pieterse household?
It was a difficult matter, but he would manage it.
All that might happen to him and Femke in Africa would be read
afterwards in pretty little books with colored pictures. He already
saw himself sitting on a throne, and Femke by his side. She was not
proud; she was willing for everybody to know--all those kneeling
before her--that she had been a poor wash-girl. She had become queen
because Walter had loved her; and now they needn't kneel any more.
On special occasions--well, of course, that was different; for
instance, when his mother and Stoffel came to visit him. They should
see how all the people honored him--and Femke whom they had treated so
badly. But once would be enough; then he would forgive them everything
and build them a big house with water-barrels and wash-tubs. For
Pennewip he would build a big schoolhouse, with desks and ink-bottles
and copy-books and wall maps of Europe and tables of the new weights
and measures. Then the old master could give instruction from early
in the morning till late at night--or even all night.
He was just puzzling over how he was going to reconcile Master
Pennewip and the dusky young African to one another when Leentje
opened the door.
Without noticing it he had got home and rung the
door-bell. Unsuspectingly he fell into an environment quite different
from that in which he had moved for the last half hour. He scarcely
understood what his mother meant when she asked him how the visit
turned out, and whether Juffrouw Laps was satisfied with his report
on the sermon.
Sermon? Laps? He was unprepared for such an examination. He stammered
out a sort of miscellaneous and irrelevant jumble of words, but
fortunately containing nothing about Africa.
It now developed that in the meantime there had been a sudden change
in certain details of religious belief.
"You see, mother?" said Stoffel. "Just as I've always said, it
would take a lawyer to explain anything to suit her. She always
knows better----"
"That's so," answered the mother. "She's cracked or crazy. Now,
just tell me, Stoffel, if anyone can expect such a child to remember
everything a preacher says. I can't do it myself; and you can't do it,
either. Master Pennewip can't do it. I tell you, nobody can do it. And
to require that of such a child! She just wants to play the professor;
that's the reason she does it."
Stoffel was of the same opinion. Encouraged by his sympathy the mother
became eloquent.
"I would like to know what she's thinking about; or if she thinks
she's a pastor. With all her biblical quotations! And then to torment
a child hardly out of a sick bed--it's a disgrace. You don't need to
go to her. What business have you got with her? I tell you----"
Here it occurred to her that she herself had compelled Walter to go,
and she interrupted this line of thought to scold Walter and tell him
to get out of his Sunday breeches. Her dissatisfaction with herself
expressed itself further in a funeral oration on Walter's last suit,
which had cost so much "hard work."
"And then to let that child sit there for an hour without anything
to eat or drink! She would----"
Walter's feeling for justice couldn't let that pass. He assured them
that on the contrary--and then that excessive kindness got in his way
again. In his confusion he went into all the details of the chocolate.
"Well! Why didn't you say so at once? But it's all the same. I was
going to add that she ought to have given you something to eat. That's
the way such folks are--always grumbling about others and they won't
see themselves. I believe in grace too, and when I have my housework
done I like to hear the Scripture read--but to be everlastingly and
eternally prating about it? No, that isn't religion. What do you say,
Stoffel? One must work part of the time. Walter! aren't you going
to pull off those new breeches? I've told him a dozen times. Trudie,
give him his old ones!"
Walter changed his breeches; but he promised himself that in Africa
he would wear Sunday breeches every day.