The next day Walter rang the doctor's door-bell. His heart was in a
flutter, for the doctor lived in an imposing house. He was admitted
and, after he had been announced, was told just to come upstairs.
The maid conducted Walter to the "study," where the doctor was busy
performing one of his paternal duties: he was teaching his children.
There were three. A boy, somewhat older than Walter, sat alone in one
corner writing at a small table. The other two, a boy of Walter's
age and a girl that seemed to be a few years younger, stood before
the table behind which the doctor was sitting. On the table stood a
large globe, evidently the subject of discussion. This became clear
to Walter later, for, as far as he knew, he had never seen such a
large ball. He didn't know that there was any other way to explain
the location of countries except by means of maps. Thus he noticed
in the room all sorts of things that he didn't understand till later.
When the maid opened the door of the room he heard the voices of
the children, and also that of the father. He even heard laughter;
but when he walked in all became as still as death. The two children
at the table stood like soldiers. There was something so comical in
their attitude that Walter could have laughed at them if he hadn't
been so embarrassed. Even the girl had a touch of official earnestness
in her face more striking than he had seen it in older people, even
at church. While the doctor was welcoming Walter and offering him
a chair, the boy stood with hands clapped down on the seams of his
trousers as if he expected someone to say, "Right about--face!" or,
"Forward, column right, march!"
The larger boy in the corner had only looked up once, but with
that peculiarly hostile expression which distinguishes man from
other animals--to the disadvantage of the former. It is noticeable
especially in children--sometimes in women.
"I'm glad to see you, my boy. It was nice of you to come. What have
you there?"--then he turned to the little soldiers.
"Remind me afterward to tell you at dinner something about Olivier
van Noort. William, you can think of it, can't you?"
Walter squinted at his Lady Macbeth, and was so embarrassed that he
was helpless to present it to the doctor. The room was so magnificent;
and the furnishings--the big cases full of books! His picture seemed
so common and ugly that, if he could have done so, he would have
swallowed it.
At home they had taught him how he must stand and sit and speak;
and now he stood there, as awkward as a cow, stammering and
stuttering. Making a supreme effort he managed to get it out that he
had "come to thank the doctor" for his recovery--"but God first"!
The two soldiers bit their lips; and even the doctor found it difficult
to keep a straight face.
"God first! Well said, my boy. Have you already thanked God?"
"Yes, M'nheer, every evening in bed, and yesterday at church."
Little Sietske unable to control herself any longer had to laugh
outright. Her laughter threatened to become contagious. William was
busier than usual with his nose; Hermann had come to life and was
eyeing Walter slyly.
"Order!" thundered the doctor, giving the table a rap with a ruler
that made the globe tremble. Walter was frightened. "Order! This is
a nice caper during study-hours."
The clock began to strike. Sietske seemed to be counting, for at
every stroke she raised a finger.
"I am going to----"
"Five!" she cried. "All my fingers--just look, five! Five o'clock,
papa--Tyrant! Hurrah, hurrah!"
Both boys joined in the uproar. It was a quodlibet from "Gaudeamus
igitur," "Vive la joie," and "God save the king." Forward, all! Vive
la vacance! A bas les tyrans! Revenge! * * * *
The children were determined to have their well earned romp; and they
had it. Walter rubbed his eyes, and would not believe his ears. It
was beyond his comprehension. * * * *
"That will do now," said the doctor. "Come, mamma is waiting
dinner--and you, too, my boy!"
William took Sietske on his back and Hermann mounted the father. Thus
they descended the stairs, Walter bringing up the rear. Lady Macbeth
had disappeared, being now crumpled up in Walter's breast-pocket.
Walter was nonplussed. Was this the same man who used the gold
pen?--whose coachman wore the furs?
How was it possible? Was it a dream, that he and all the family had
looked on this man and simply been overcome by his dignity?
He couldn't understand it.
Again the atmosphere of the dining-room was quite different from that
of the schoolroom, either before or directly after five.
"Present the young gentleman to your mamma," said the doctor, turning
to William.
"May I do it?" asked Sietske.
Doctor Holsma nodded, and the little girl took Walter by the hand and
conducted him to a lady who sat at the head of the table preparing
the salad.
"Mamma, this is a young gentleman--oh, I must know your name. What
is your name?"
"Walter Pieterse."
"This is Mr. Walter Pieterse, who has come to thank papa, because
he--he was sick; and he--the young gentleman is going to stay for
dinner, papa?"--the doctor nodded again--"and he's going to stay for
dinner, mamma."
"With mamma's consent," said the father.
"Yes, with mamma's consent."
Mevrouw Holsma spoke to Walter kindly and offered him a chair. It
was necessary, too.
Everything seemed so princely to Walter that he was glad to be
seated. Three-fourths of his little figure was hidden under the
table. That was something gained. He was amazed at almost everything
he saw and heard. He folded his hands.
"Do you want to say a grace, little man?" asked the doctor.
"Yes, M'nheer," Walter stammered.
"A good custom. Do you always do that at the table?"
"Yes, always--at warm meals, M'nheer!"
Those children had been taught good manners. Nobody smiled.
Walter bowed his head for a moment; and the doctor took advantage
of the opportunity to give the children a look of warning. They
remembered; and, if afterwards Walter discovered that he had cut a
singular figure in this household, they were not to blame.
"You do well to do it," said Holsma. "We don't do it; and perhaps we
do well not to."
"Certainly," said the mother. "Everyone must act according to his
own conviction."
This simple statement moved Walter more than any of them could have
imagined. He--a conviction! That short sentence of Mevrouw Holsma
attributed to him a dignity and importance that was strange to him,
and gave him a right he had never thought of before. Through the soup
he was thinking continually: "I may have a conviction!"
It never occurred to him that a thing could be interpreted otherwise
than it was interpreted for him by his mother or Stoffel, or some
other grown-up person. The whole question of praying, or not praying,
did not appear so important to him as this new fact, that he could
have a conviction. His heart swelled.
The doctor, who understood Walter, recalled him from his thoughts.
"Everyone must act according to his conviction; and in order to come
to a conviction one has to reflect a long time over the matter. I
am convinced that our little guest would like to eat some of those
peas. Pass them to him, Sietske."
Walter had grasped the import of Holsma's words, and also the meaning
of this transition to the peas. Walter felt--without putting his
feelings into words--that the pedantry of the schoolroom had been put
aside at five o'clock, and that his host merely wanted to give him a
friendly warning against dogmatic bigotry, without tainting the fresh,
wholesome atmosphere of the dining-room.
Despite his shy, retiring nature--or, better, in connection with this
characteristic--Walter was an extremely intelligent boy. This fact
had escaped almost everybody he had come in contact with because of
his lack of self-confidence, which prevented him from revealing his
true self. He usually seemed to comprehend more slowly than others;
but this was because he was less easily satisfied with the result of
his thinking. His mind was exacting of knowledge. During Walter's
sickness Holsma had remarked this peculiarity of the boy, and his
interest had been enlisted at once.
Walter's shyness was due in a great measure to the manner in which
he had been taught what little he knew. Everything his teachers
taught him was looked upon by them as something immutable and
irrefutable. Twice two is four, Prince so-and-so is a hero, good
children go to heaven, God is great, the Reform Church represents the
true faith, etc., etc. It was never hinted to him that there was any
room for doubt. Indeed, he was led to believe that his desire to know
more about things was improper and even sinful.
After all those extraordinary occurrences in the study, Walter was
prepared to expect almost anything in the way of the unusual, but
that William and Hermann, and even little Sietske, were allowed to
help their plates to whatever they wanted--that was more wonderful
to him than the aÎrial voyage of Elias. With GeneviËve in the famous
wilderness--yes, even in Africa it couldn't be any more free and
easy. He was continually surprised and taken off his guard by the
unwonted and unexpected. In fact, his thoughts were so far away that
when during dessert the little girl passed him a saucer of cream----
Ye gods, it happened and--I must tell it. Oh, if like the
chroniclers of old, I might put the blame on some privy councilor,
"who unfortunately advised," etc.
But what privy councilor in the whole world could have advised Walter
to let that porcelain spoon tilt over the edge of the saucer and fall
into Sietske's lap! He did it, he!
Oh, how sad it was. He had just begun to pull himself up in his
chair. Another moment and he would have actually been sitting. Perhaps
he might have said something soon. The name of a certain country in
Africa, which Sietske could not remember a moment before, had occurred
to him. It was not that he might seem smarter than Sietske that he
was going to speak out. No, it was only that he might seem a little
less stupid than himself. But now--that miserable spoon!
Before he had time to wonder how his awkwardness would be received,
Sietske was talking along smoothly about something else--just as if
this little "catastrophe" was a matter of course.
"Papa, you were going to tell us something about Olivier van Noort."
She arose, wiped off her little skirt and fetched Walter another
spoon from the buffet.
"Yes, papa, Olivier van Noort! You promised it, papa."
All urged him to tell the story. Even Mevrouw Holsma manifested great
interest in it. Walter was aware that this conversation was intended
to cover up his accident. He was moved; for he was not accustomed to
anything like this. As Sietske took her seat again she noticed a tear
creeping down across his cheek.
"Mamma, I got a silver spoon. That's just as good, isn't it? These
porcelain things are so heavy and awkward. They've fallen out of my
hand three times; and Hermann can't manage them, either."
The mother nodded to her.
"And how it is with Olivier van Noort?"
The door-bell rang, and almost immediately afterwards a gentleman
entered the room who was greeted by the children as Uncle Sybrand.
The host now invited all to the garden and sent Hermann to the study
for a book.
"You young rascal, don't you go now and maliciously break that
globe. It can't help it."
Then came the story of Admiral Olivier van Noort and the poor
Vice-Admiral Jan Claesz van Ilpendam, who was put ashore in the Strait
of Magellan for insubordination. It interested all, and called forth
a lively discussion, in which the entire family as well as the guests
took part.