The events of an eventful Friday were at an end, as it seemed; and
Walter prepared to climb into the narrow bedstead, which he shared with
his brother Laurens. He was now in a tranquil frame of mind. He didn't
even have any desire to romp with Laurens, who, without laying claim to
geometrical knowledge, usually managed to find the diagonal of the bed.
It was Walter's intention to think over recent events again. He wished
to busy himself with others; he was tired of himself--at least he
thought so for a moment.
There was a prince, who distributed money among the people. Oh,
if I were only a prince!
That wasn't a bad thought. Under the same circumstances, most people
would have thought: Oh, if I could only have got some of the money!
The countess-palatine from--where from? Well it makes no
difference. She was in the museum and the papers said she was gracious,
very gracious.
I would do it too, thought Walter, if I were a countess-palatine. What
sort of a profession is that?
The king had given audiences--and a dinner--and had said--well, the
usual things. But for Walter it was new and interesting. The welfare of
the city seemed to lie heavily on his majesty's heart. It lay heavily
on Walter's heart, too; but that did not prevent Walter from admiring
this peculiarity of the king. In Africa he would do the same thing.
No, away with Africa!
He threw off his left stocking so violently that it curled around
the leg of the chair like a dying earthworm.
What strange things he had heard of Princess Erika! It was said that
she was to have married a grand-duke, but rejected him.
The middle classes were delighted with this news; though not knowing
but that it might merely have been stubbornness on the part of the
princess.
She was of such a strange nature that she did not know how to behave
herself in her high position.
Walter slipped off his other stocking, finding fault with the princess
for disregarding the usual customs and conventions. Hm! He wondered
if she would like to change places with him, and let him be Prince
Erich--and she----
He wondered if she too wore an ugly nightcap. But--no! Princesses
would wear caps of diamonds.
Princess Erika!
Walter blew out the light--no, he was on the point of blowing it
out. He had selected one of the triangles that Laurens had described
in the bed, when suddenly he became aware of a great tumult in the
Pieterse home.
Yes, somebody had rung violently three or four times and was still
banging at the door. Fire?
Hm! Could it be Princess Erika, he thought, who was coming to change
places with him?
Alas, it was only Juffrouw Laps; and she did not come to exchange.
Well, what did she want then, so late in the evening?
Walter pulled himself together and listened.
The compartment where Walter and Laurens slept was a boxed-up
arrangement over the sitting-room. Two of their sisters shared the
space with them. From considerations of modesty, therefore, the boys
always had to get sleepy a quarter of an hour before the young ladies.
The writer is unable to say how much oxygen four young people need
during eight hours without suffocating; but anyway there wasn't much
room in this little nook.
In another closet-affair there was a similar division, and here, too,
the hour for retiring was determined by similar laws of modesty.
The reader will now understand why a part of the family, the female
part of course, was still in the sitting-room when Walter imagined
that Princess Erika had come to exchange places with him.
Juffrouw Laps, who had rushed up the steps like a crazy woman, burst
into the room weeping and moaning and sobbing.
The usual cries of, "What on earth is the matter?" "Lord 'a'
mercy--what has happened?" were forthcoming. Walter noticed, too, that
the customary glass of water was offered and drunk, and that proper
efforts were being made to get the unhappy one to "calm herself."
Juffrouw Laps began her story with the positive assurance that it
was impossible for her to utter a word.
It seemed, therefore, that the affair was something important. Walter
pulled on one of his stockings and prepared to listen.
"I swear, Juffrouw Pieterse, by the omnipotent God, that I'm so
frightened and excited that I can't talk."
"Goodness!"
"Where are your children? In bed? Not all of them, I hope. Really,
I can't speak. Give me another glass of water, Trudie. Listen, how
my teeth are chattering. That comes from fright, doesn't it? I'm in
a tremble all over. Thank you, Trudie. Where's--Stoffel?"
"He's undressing," said Juffrouw Pieterse. "He goes to bed before
me and Pietro. Mina makes so much noise, you know; and Trudie must
stay with the boys to keep them from fighting. That's why I sleep
with Pietro, you see. Stoffel undresses himself, and then he draws
the curtain when he hears us on the steps. But why----"
"How that concerns me, you mean? To be sure. I'm just beside myself
from fright! And is--Laurens in bed too?"
"Of course! A long time already. He has to go to the printing-house
early."
"All in bed! And I--I run through the streets, wretched, crazy,
and don't know what to do. Is everybody in bed?--everybody?"
"But what has happened?"
"I'm going to tell you, Juffrouw Pieterse. Oh, if you only knew how
frightened I am!"
Consideration of acoustics now led Walter to put on his other stocking.
"You know, Juffrouw Pieterse, that of late so much stealing has been
going on."
"Yes, but----"
"And burglary and murder! And the police can't catch anybody. You know
the old woman and the servant-girl who were murdered in Lommer Street."
"But three are already behind the bars for it. What more do you want?"
"That's all right; the murderers are running around scot-free. They've
locked up three fellows just to keep the people from thinking too
much. They don't want anybody to ask, 'What are the police for?' You
see what I mean? I tell you that such a low-down rascal, who commits
a murder and steals lots of money, cannot hide his bloody clothes;
nor the money, either. He's not used to having so much money. All
the neighbors know his coat and breeches; and such a man hasn't any
trunk where he can hide his things. He doesn't know how to manage with
drafts and notes; and he don't know enough to get away to a foreign
country. As for friends to help him get rid of the stolen things,
he hasn't any. I tell you, Juffrouw Pieterse, a murder or a robbery,
when they don't catch the murderer right away--then some respectable
person has done it, who has more clothes and boxes and presses and
linen--and he has friends among bankers. A common fellow would stick
a hundred thousand florins in the bread-box, and the children would
find it when they went to slip a slice of bread and butter. What do
you say, Trudie?"
Trudie was not versed in criminal statistics and had never reflected
on the matter. At least Walter heard no answer. Curiosity compelled
him to draw on his trousers.
"But," he heard his mother saying again, "what has happened to you?"
"What has happened? I am beside myself. Don't you see how I'm
trembling? The city is full of murderers!"
"My goodness! How can I help it?"
"You can't. But I am beside myself, and I want to ask your advice. Do
they all go to bed so early?--Stoffel--and Laurens--all of them? Look,
how I'm shaking. Do you suppose I dare go back to my room?"
"Why not? Do you think you're going to be murdered?"
"Yes. I do think it! The murderers of that old woman and of the
servant-girl are still on the war-path. Yesterday at the illumination
how many watches did they steal? And the police--what do they
do? Nothing, nothing! Yes, they watch you to see if you beat a rug
in the morning after ten o'clock. That's what the police do. They
don't bother murderers."
"What do you know about the murderers? It's your duty to report them
if you know them."
Walter put on his vest and wrapped his muffler around his neck.
"What I know about them! They are besieging me in my own house. Isn't
that pretty rough? I went out at noon to see the boat race on the
Amstel; but there was nothing to see, because there was no wind. And
such a crowd! All the kings were there, and the visiting princes
and princesses, you know; and everybody stared at the carriages,
and I did too. Not that I care anything about a king. Goodness,
no! For he is only a worm in God's hand, and when the Master doesn't
aid him--all is vanity, vanity. Dust and ashes--that's all. But I
looked at the carriages, you know, and at the horses, and at the
staring crowd. I thought to myself, I will fry the potatoes when I
go home. They had been left over from dinner; and when there are any
potatoes left over, you know, I always fry them for supper. There was
a big crowd, and all were mad because there was no wind; for people
are foolish about pleasure and never think of the Master. Worldly,
worldly, they were--and the princes and princesses. I thought, well,
it's no wonder that there's so much robbery and murder; for they try
God's patience. I thought, God will punish you; He's only abiding
His time. He always does it, Juffrouw Pieterse! A lady--the creature
had red pimples on her face, and was older than you--what do you
suppose she had on her head? A turban! She rode in a carriage with
four horses. What do you think of that? She was playing with a fan;
and, when a prince rode up to her carriage, she stuck out her hand
and let the fan go up and down three times. And the prince did that
way three times. Were they crazy, or not? What will the Master say
to that? If He only doesn't send a pestilence on us!"
"Yes, but the murderers--what did they do to you?"
"Why, certainly--what they did? I am going to tell you. I'm still
trembling. I had sliced my potatoes, put them on a saucer and set
them away in the cupboard. Then I thought, I will fry them when I come
home; for I didn't expect to stay long in the crowd, for I have been
saved by grace and don't care for worldly things--ah, dear Juffrouw
Pieterse, you must call Stoffel, so he can hear what has happened."
Stoffel was already on his way down; and Walter was glad of it. Walter
had heard the noise Stoffel was making putting on his clothes in the
adjoining booth, and upon this he builded hopes that he too might
be allowed to go down, where he could hear the exciting story better
than was possible through the cracks in the floor. In the meantime he
had completely dressed himself. The noises below told him of Stoffel's
arrival in the sitting-room. He heard the usual greetings and Juffrouw
Laps's solemn assurance that she was still in such a tremble that
she couldn't say a word. Then he heard her ask immediately where
Laurens was.
Laurens? Well, he was asleep.
That youth's absence seemed to trouble the visitor. She couldn't
proceed. Was it really necessary for Laurens to be present?
"What do you say, Stoffel? Isn't the city full of thieves and
murderers?"
Stoffel drew in his upper lip and tried to make the lower one touch
his nose. Let the reader try the same; then he will know how Stoffel
answered, and what his answer meant.
Juffrouw Laps pretended to believe that he had said "yes."
"Don't you see, Stoffel says so too! The city is full of thieves and
murderers, and--a respectable person is afraid to go to bed alone
any more. It's just that way."
"But--Juffrouw!"
"The police? Nonsense! What good do the police do, when people
don't believe in God? That's the truth. Whoever doesn't do that is
lost. Human help--I cannot understand at all why Laurens goes to bed so
early. You surely know that so much sleep isn't good for anybody. What
does the Bible say? Watch and pray! But--everyone according to his
notion. I swear before God that I don't dare to go home alone and----"
Walter's curiosity was at high tension. In order to hear better he
was leaning over, supporting himself with the chair. The point of
support was unsteady. The chair slipped and rattled across the floor,
crashing into another piece of furniture.
"Heaven and earth! What are they up to now," groaned the
mother. "Laurens, is that you?"
Walter peeped in, "It was me." The result was that he was soon in the
midst of the interesting conversation that he had been trying to hear
from above.
His entrance took place under unfavorable circumstances. He was blamed
for not having been undressed.
"Do you always put on your nightcap before you undress?" cried
the mother.
The boy had actually forgotten to take off his nightcap. He was so
ashamed that he felt he would like to fall through the floor. He
would rather have neglected anything else.
"And--what have you there?"
Alas, our hero looked more ridiculous than anyone could look by simply
putting on a nightcap. He had armed himself with an old rusty knife
that his father had used in prehistoric times for cutting leather!
During the whole of the Laps recital, which progressed so slowly,
he had thought and hoped and intended--yes, he heard something that
sounded like, "Where is Walter?" The speaker really did not say it--no,
on the contrary, those were the very words she wished to avoid--still,
he thought he heard her say them. On this Friday he had acted mean
and cowardly; but he was still Walter.
Murderers? Thieves? A lady in danger? What other answer could there
be but: "I am here, I, Walter!"
Oh, fate, why did you put that sword in his hand and let him forget
to remove that nightcap? Why didn't you divide these two absurdities
between Stoffel and Walter! Or why couldn't you put that feathery
diadem on the head of the sleeping Laurens? It would have been all
the same to him how he looked in his sleep.
Walter was in a rage.
And I am, too. Towards Femke his chivalry had remained in the
background; and now it must burst forth at a doubtful call from
Juffrouw Laps!
In his anger he threw the weapon down violently and allowed it to
rebound across the room. He slapped the nightcap on the table.
No one would have thought that the little man could be so vehement. His
mother, with her usual solicitousness, inquired into the condition
of his mind, asking if he was only cracked, or downright crazy.
"I tell you," said the visitor, "you ought not to worry that child
so much."
"Go to bed at once!" cried the mother.
"Why can't you let the child stay here? But--oh, yes! I was going to
tell you about my potatoes."
Walter stayed. For this privilege he was indebted to the general
curiosity.
"Just imagine, when I came home about half past ten o'clock--I couldn't
get away earlier on account of the crush, you know. Don't you know,
I don't care for these big occasions. Well, when I got home--the city
is full of thieves, murderers, and that must not be forgotten--well,
my potatoes were--what do you think my potatoes were? They were--gone!"
"Gone?"
"Gone!"
"All gone?"
"All gone!"
"Your potatoes--gone?"
"My potatoes--all completely gone!"
"But----"
"I tell you those thieves and murderers did it. Who else could have
done it? Thieves and murderers in my house! And I wanted to ask
you--for I'm afraid in my room----"
Walter's eyes fairly shone.
"I wanted to ask, if perhaps--your son Stoffel----"
Stoffel's face was a study, a curiosity. If the said thieves and
murderers could have seen it they would have been greatly pleased,
for it bore evidence of Stoffel's intention to leave them undisturbed
in their work.
"But, Juffrouw," he said, "haven't you a cat in your room?"
"A cat? A cat to fight murderers with!"
"No, Juffrouw, not to fight murderers; but a cat that might have
eaten the potatoes."
"I don't know anything about a cat. I only know that the city is
full of low-down people when so many murders are committed and no one
tries to catch the murderers. Not that I am anxious about my life--no,
not at all. When the Master calls me I shall say, 'Let thy daughter
go in peace; my eyes have seen thy glory.'"
"But, woman, why didn't you look in your closet, and under the bed?"
"I didn't want to do that, Juffrouw Pieterse! The Lord will take care
of me--but one must not try the Lord's patience. I would not go in the
closet, or look under the bed--not for everything in the world! For of
course he's there, and that's why I wanted to ask if your son--Stoffel,
or, if Stoffel doesn't want to, if perhaps your son--Laurens, or----"
"But, Juffrouw, why didn't you call the neighbors?"
Thus spoke Stoffel.
"The neighbors? Well, I guess they know about it. The man who lives
under me is afraid of a poodle-dog, not to mention a murderer. There's
a man living next to me; but, you know, he is--what shall I say--he
is a sort of bachelor, and I don't want to get talked about. You
know a woman must always think of her reputation, and not get mixed
up in gossip."
It did not occur to anyone to ask what sort of a creature Stoffel
was. Was he a bachelor? Or did his position as a teacher protect him
against any worldly suspicion?
"And, besides," continued the seductive Laps, "do you think all
men have courage? No! They're as afraid of a thief as they are of
death. Last week an insolent beggar was on the steps, and the fellow
wouldn't leave. Do you think the men did anything to him? Scared to
death! But, I tell you, I got hold of him in a hurry and----"
She had gone too far, and she saw it.
"Well, I would have done that if I hadn't been a woman; for a woman
must never use violence. It isn't becoming. What do you say, Trudie? I
ran and shut my door. Wasn't that right? No, none of the men-folk
has any courage!"
None of the men-folk! Walter felt insulted. He was swelling with
suppressed courage; he was eager for a fray. At least, he was eager to
show that he was an exception to Juffrouw Laps's general indictment. Of
course Juffrouw Laps noticed this.
"Well, if Stoffel doesn't want to----"
"To tell the truth, I----"
"And if Laurens is already asleep--and if--if no one else will----"
She arose.
"Then I suppose I must, relying upon God, go alone. But it's horrible
for a woman to be entirely alone!"
She looked at them all in turn, all except the one she was talking
to. Walter felt that he was being forgotten, or overlooked. This only
increased his latent courage and made him burn with a desire to be
numbered with the knighthood of the house.
"Yes, if there's nobody here who's not afraid----"
"I'm not afraid!"
All but Juffrouw Laps were surprised. She was a good psychologist,
and had not expected anything else. It was her part, however, to
pretend to be as much surprised as any of the rest.
"You?"
"You, Walter?"
"Boy, are you crazy? You?"
"Yes, I. I'm not afraid; not if there were ten in the closet and a
hundred under the bed!"
A little Luther! But with a difference. Luther had a God in whom
he felt he could trust--reinforced by a few grand-dukes. Walter,
without any grand-dukes, was ready to enter the field against a God
who was allowing any number of murderers to take shelter under the
roof and bed of Juffrouw Laps.
"Boy!"
"I'll risk it."
"Let him go, Juffrouw Pieterse. You understand--it's company for me
to have such a child with me. Then I'm not frightened so badly, if a
murderer is in the closet. Nobody wants to be entirely alone. Isn't
that so?"
Juffrouw Laps gained her point: Walter was permitted to go with her.
It was principally their vanity that caused the Pieterses to consent
so readily to Juffrouw Laps's request and allow her to take Walter
away to act as her castellan. Not one of them felt that it was a
good thing for Walter to go with the Juffrouw; but they were all
proud of his courage. The story would get noised abroad, and people
would pass it on to their friends. Juffrouw Pieterse would see to
it that the people knew it was "the same young gentlemen, you know,
that went home with Dr. Holsma."
Yes, and then people would say: "There's something in those Pieterse
children."
Mothers like to hear such things.
With his package under his arm Walter marched away with Juffrouw
Laps to do battle for that pious lady. That prehistoric weapon he
left behind, on her assuring him that she had a well-filled store
of weapons and ammunition enough to kill all the murderers that he
would have occasion to contend with.