Good Muse, sweet Muse, take us back to Pieterseville again. Whisper
to me and tell me what happened there during Walter's romantic
enchantment; and have a care that my language rises to the dignity
of the subject.
We know already, Clio, how the mistress of the castle saw her progeny
depart to protect the distressed lady from the nefarious attacks of
robbers and murderers; how her blessing and the consecrated blade were
withheld, and how the brave youth sallied forth with a nightcap his
only weapon. We know, too, how the bachelor Stoffel, the hereditary
custodian of the reputation of the family----
Ah, let us treat the matter quite simply, and leave the muse alone.
On the Friday evening in question Juffrouw Pieterse went to bed as
usual. The others did the same. There were no indications of bad
dreams. There was no trace of anxiety over the terrible danger to
which Walter had thoughtlessly exposed himself. This might have
been because they did not know of the danger. It had not been at
all necessary for Juffrouw Laps to conceal her intention so slyly
and always omit Walter's name from the knighthood of the Pieterse
family. Thanks to the stupidity of the family, she might have gained
her point without any finesse.
Saturday morning dawned, that morning on which Mrs. Claus applied
the restoratives so abundantly, and so efficaciously.
"I wonder where in the world the boy can be so long?" said the mother.
"I don't suppose he got up very early; and then maybe she had him to
read a chapter out of the Bible at breakfast."
This explanation by Stoffel quieted the family for half an hour.
"How would it do for you to go over there?" Juffrouw Pieterse proposed
at last.
"I'm not going, mother. You know it isn't on my way to school."
That was a sufficient reason. Never do anything that isn't on your
way--one of the favorite maxims of conservatism. Stoffel himself did
not know how profound was the wisdom of his political aphorism.
"How would it do, then, to send Leentje over to Juffrouw Laps's to
inquire about Walter?"
This proposal met with approval, and Leentje was dispatched forthwith.
Oh, poor Juffrouw Laps! She was "the most wretched woman in the world;"
and the room from which Walter had fled so suddenly was now the temple
of all the heterogeneous griefs and pains that novelists ever make
use of.
I will not place Walter above Joseph, Theseus, Jason or Hippolytos. May
Apollo preserve me from such blind partiality. Not by any means do I
regard my hero as the most interesting mortal that ever left a woman
in the lurch. No, not in Walter's worth do I seek for the measure
of the forsaken lady's despair. Indeed, Juffrouw Laps's pain was
not caused by any reflections as to the beauty or excellence of the
vanished knight. There was another element in the matter that was
filling her with horror and driving her to distraction. With all due
respect for the suffering of other abandoned ladies, Asnath, Ariadne,
Medea, Phaedra--but Juffrouw Laps had to face Walter's family. That
was the trouble.
Her fertile brain evolved the most wonderful plans. How would it do for
her to tell that he had been carried away in a fiery chariot before
the eyes of the people, like Elias of old? She discarded the idea,
for fear that no one would believe it.
At first she had waited at the window, watching for her little Theseus
to return. When she saw him no more she thought that perhaps the mob
had carried him off with them. That was not an unpleasant thought;
since her fear for his return to his family was greater than her
desire for his return to her. This is easily understood: what might
he not tell at home?
It was already daylight; but Juffrouw Laps knew that it was too early
to go to the Pieterses'. Besides, what would she say? That her little
knight had run away during the night? And why? Whither? How did she
know but that he had already told the story in all its details?
She determined--not to determine upon anything, and to leave the
matter with the "Master" for the present. With this pious resolve she
climbed into her maidenly bed; and, before falling asleep, she groaned:
"If the rascal had only broken his neck, like the high priest Eli,
in First Samuel, 4!"
No doubt the Master saw the distress of his faithful disciple and
taught her how to meet the situation that awaited her waking; for
Leentje soon returned with the assurance of Juffrouw Laps that Walter
was out taking a morning walk.
In a way, this was the truth. The Juffrouw merely neglected to add
why he was taking a walk, and at what hour in the morning he had gone
out. Leentje, suspecting nothing, asked no questions. For her it was a
"matter of course" that he would not go out in the middle of the night.
The family now regarded the incident as fresh evidence of Walter's
objectionable habit of roving, and nothing more. They felt no anxiety
for his personal safety.
"There it is again!" said the mother. "The trouble and vexation I
have with that boy. Anybody else would sit down for a while after
breakfast; but he--what does he do? He runs away before it's hardly
daylight. Is that any way to do, Stoffel?"
"No, mother."
"And to leave us here anxious and worrying over him!"
"Yes, mother."
"This is a nice caper he's cutting again. He knows very well that
we're all uneasy and won't have a minute's peace till he comes. God
only knows where he is."
Stoffel could not wait to hear more. It was time for him to go
to school.
It may be repeated that there was not a word of truth in all this
uneasiness and anxiety. The family considered such a display to be the
proper thing; though, for the rest, they did not manifest the slightest
interest in Walter's fate. For aught they knew some accident might
have happened to the boy; but, instead of making a serious effort to
find out what had become of him, his mother found it easier to accuse
him of indecorous conduct and general worthlessness.
Thus matters remained until Dr. Holsma's carriage drove up before
Juffrouw Pieterse's door that afternoon and Kaatje alighted with her
message. After the recent fright Walter had given her, she was glad
enough to escape from such close proximity to the young lunatic. For
thus she regarded him.
All rushed to the window.
"There he is; there he is!" cried the whole family in a breath, and
as loud as they could. "Did you ever! Really, he's sitting there in
Dr. Holsma's carriage."
This flattering observation banished everything else from their
thoughts, and made Kaatje's task an easy one. It was now a simple
matter for her to allay their fears. They were no longer concerned
to know where Walter had been. It was enough that he was now in
Dr. Holsma's carriage.
"Ate breakfast at the doctor's? Girl, you don't say so! And--and--why
isn't the coachman wearing his furs?"
Kaatje was dumbfounded and could only stammer some reference to the
season. In fact, the manner in which her message was being received
strengthened her worst suspicions of Walter's sanity. It seemed to
her that the entire family was a little "off."
"And he really ate breakfast at the doctor's? Do you understand,
Trudie? Ate breakfast at Dr. Holsma's!"
"Yes, he ate breakfast with us. To be sure he did. The doctor himself
said so."
"At Dr. Holsma's, and ate breakfast there?"
"Why, certainly. Where else?"
"And did he use the good manners I've taught him?"
"Of course, Juffrouw! But----"
"And is he now in the carriage with the doctor?"
"Why, Juffrouw--naturally!"
"Listen, my dear," continued the proud mother, "I am going to tell you
something; but you need not repeat it to anybody else. Don't you know,
that's an unusual child!"
"Yes," sighed Kaatje, thoroughly convinced, "I know it."
"You know it, don't you? And do you know why? I'm going to tell
you. He's an unusual child, because--Pietro, move away a little, and
you, too, Mina. Trudie, you can stay where you are, but pay attention
to your knitting!--he's an unusual child, don't you know, because,
before he was born, you understand----"
"Oh, Juffrouw!"
"Yes, my dear, I dreamed of a butterfly; and it was dragging off an
elephant! You understand now?"
"Oh, yes, Juffrouw. I understand exactly."
"Don't you see? That's the reason. Give the doctor my politest regards,
and thank him for me. If he's only well-behaved--I mean Walter. And
the coachman wears such a fur cap only in the winter?"
Kaatje managed to escape, fully resolved never to dream of elephants
and butterflies. Such an indulgence seemed to her to be particularly
dangerous; for she now began to think in all seriousness that the
whole family was crazy, and that what she had seen in Walter was
merely a sample of the general disorder.
When a few hours later the doctor himself stopped at Juffrouw
Pieterse's, her joy over Walter's exaltation know no bounds. Holsma
took note of the stupid woman's foibles and follies, and resolved
to prescribe an intellectual diet for Walter that would counteract
their influence.
Poor Juffrouw Laps! If she had only known how happily everything
had turned out, how much worry she might have spared herself! In the
seclusion of her own room she was still quoting the Bible and fighting
for her honor.