SUPPER AT A BOERDERIJ.
IN THE SHADE OF THE PRIEELTJE.--AN UNPREPARED GUEST.--COWS'
OVERCOATS.--THANK YOU.--ANOTHER CUP.--VOOR DE PRONK.--THINGS ARE DEAR
IN HOLLAND.--AN INNOCENT OBSERVATION.--HALF-ELF.--STARVATION IN THE
MIDST OF PLENTY.--A MOHAMMEDAN.--PROBEER NOUW IS.--OPEN SESAME.--AN
AFFECTIONATE IRISH TERRIER.--GENERAL PRINCIPLES.--A PARTING SALVO.
That night, after Terence had retired, I had a confidential talk with
van Leeuwen; and I begged of him, as a great favour, to take the
Grammar to Kathleen, and--if he had time--give her a little coaching in
Dutch. He said he would--to oblige me; and I was pleased to notice that
he started, taking Boyton with him, by the earliest possible train.
This was the six twenty--a notorious bommel which brought him into the
Hague only seventeen minutes earlier than if he had waited for a decent
breakfast.
Enderby got to Arnhem about noon, and took us 'in tow' for our cycling
tour. We had a glorious week of it in Gelderland under his direction;
but there were no adventures worth speaking of. In ten days we were
back at the Residentie, as 'brown as berries and as gay as larks'. It
is Terence's phrase, and I give it for what it's worth.
But at all events van Leeuwen was gay enough now. His pedagogic labours
seemed to suit him, and Kathleen was quite herself again. To hear her
laugh now was to imagine that you were back in Kilkenny in the days
before the suffragette question was mooted.
We were all delighted. Except perhaps Enderby. That youth didn't appear
more than half pleased at the turn things had taken; but he had the
grace to keep out of the way and consoled himself with motoring. One
day--I had only sat down to luncheon--he carried me off for a great run
to the islands south of Rotterdam. But the machine broke down twice
before we reached Dordrecht, and we had to content ourselves with
housing its fragments in a shed, and walking to a _boerderij_ where my
friend was well known. Here, indeed, we were expected to supper; but we
arrived hours before we were due, and _minus_ an automobile. This
necessitated explanations, which Enderby seemed gracefully enough to
make to the family party in the garden. In a shady +prieeltje+ there,
they regaled us with "liemonade"; and I occasioned some consternation by
rising twice to offer my seat to the mother and daughter respectively,
who came in after I had sat down. They wouldn't take the chair I vacated
for them, and appeared to resent my civility. Enderby, too, made me
uncomfortable by touching my foot and saying, _sotto voce_, "Take care
what you're about, O'Neill".
Baas Willemse was very sympathetic about the mishap to our motor, and
strongly recommended the services of a gifted blacksmith of his
acquaintance.
Indeed, before we knew, he had a pony harnessed in a sort of hooded
tax-cart, in which he insisted in driving Enderby to this wonderful
mechanic, to have the damaged car put to rights. And off they started.
It was only then that I realized the situation. Here was I--without
dictionary or phrase-book--left to play the part of intelligent guest,
unaided and unprepared. And that was the first time in my life I was
'spending the evening' in a non-English-speaking home. How would I get
through it? I did hope that the local Vulcan would be quick.
At first it wasn't so bad. What with remarks about "het prachtige weer"
and "het ongeluk", and what with playing with the children, I got along
quite smoothly for a while.
I even discoursed a little about the beauty of the afternoon-sunlight
and "het schilderachtige van het zomerlandschap".
All this was taken in such good part that I went further afield; and
noticing a large number of cattle with odd coverings on their backs, I
ventured on a comparison which I fancied might interest the company.
"In Groot-Brittanje hebben de koeien niet zoo dikwijls overjassen. Mag
ik beleefd vragen: gebeurt dat hier van wege de gezelligheid, of van
wege de gezondheid, of voor het mooi?"
They were all pleased at this, and gave me a lot of talk about
cows--which didn't make me much the wiser.
By violent efforts I recalled some of my old choice phrases, and passed
myself somehow. But alas! supper came; and then my real troubles began.
We all adjourned to a binnen-kamer, where an ample spread awaited us. I
was given the seat of honour. It was a great pity, all agreed, that
Mijnheer Enderby wasn't back: but they thought I might be hungry. Well,
I was--and with reason. Nothing to eat since breakfast!
"Thee of chocolaat, Mijnheer?"
"Thee, alstublieft", I said.--And I got it.
"Krentebroodjes?"
"Dank U," I answered pleasantly, and reached for one in a leisurely
manner. You don't like to parade your hunger, you know. Well, I hadn't
been prompt enough. A plateful from which I was about to help myself,
was removed. The action surprised me, and I looked for a moment at the
mother, who had withdrawn the dainties so unexpectedly. She looked at
me, slightly ruffled. But no krentebroodjes!
"Wil mijnheer een broodje met vleesch?"
"Oh dank U wel," I said, endeavouring to be quicker. That time I nearly
had a slice. But the agile youth, Jaap, who was in charge of the plate,
whipped it away too.
No broodjes met vleesch for me! It was very queer.
"Soms een ei?" said the dignified grandmother, in a white cap with gold
ornaments. She presided, and did a great deal of the talking; and I
could make out that she was the widow of a fisherman or shipowner in a
small way, and had once visited Hull. In virtue of having spent a week
there, some forty years before, she was regarded evidently by all the
rest as an authority on English manners and customs and language and
literature.
"Soms een ei?" she pleaded. "Engelshman like egg."
Very much, indeed, I thought, if I could only get one--call me English
or Irish or whatever you like. Fain would I have had an egg off that
plate, where she had just put down six or eight, freshly boiled.
Determined to get one, if politeness would assist me, I smiled and
bowed and smiled again. "Oh, ik dank U duizendmaal. Ik bewijs volkomen
dankbaarheid."
Stunned apparently by my reply, she hesitated. To encourage her to
extend these edibles a trifle nearer, I said, "Alstublieft. Dank U."
But she only sighed, and laid the plate out of reach, reproachfully.
No eggs!
"Truitje," she whispered to her granddaughter; "presenteer de
schuimpjes."
Truitje didn't say a word, but pushed a schaaltje of these light
refreshments towards me.
I did secure two; but in a moment they were finished. You see, a
schuimpje doesn't last very long, when you are really hungry.
Then the mother complained, courteously, of my slender appetite:
"Mijnheer wil niets gebruiken."
"O ja," I interrupted, "integendeel! Heel graag. Alstublieft." And to
show I meant it, I asked for another cup of tea. "Mag ik beleefdelijk
vragen om een andere kop?" Here I reached cup and saucer towards them.
That certainly created a diversion. They looked blankly at one another,
till the grandmother--she was very hearty--called out with a cheerful
laugh, "He, ja. Dat's waar ook. De Engelsche koppen zijn groot."
"Truitje," she whispered in an audible aside. "Breng even een Engelsche
kom. Ze staan in de kast."
"Zie zoo. Mijnheer," she continued to me with a pleasant smile. "Nouw,
Mijnheer wil zeker nog wat thee hebben? Nouw, niet bedanken, hoor."
"Oh ja," I replied joyfully, "Schiet op--Als'tublieft--dank U. Dank
U--heelemaal!"
Holding the tea-pot poised in her hand, she looked at me appealingly,
but in doubt. "Wat? heus?" she said.
What was I to do?
I looked at her quite as appealingly, and replied. "Ja, heus! Wel
zeker."
That was decisive. No tea!
The cup, however, was planted down in front of me, upside down. "Het is
voor de pronk, zeker," said the grandmother. "Engelsche gewoonte--zeer
net."
But conversation flagged. The silence was painful. You could have heard
a pin drop. My discreet attempt to ask for something had failed, and I
didn't see exactly how I was to improve upon it.
The mother meantime surveyed my empty plate and empty cup with distinct
disapproval, and put out a feeler: "Mijnheer houdt niet van Hollandsche
kost?"
'Hollandsch kost', what things +cost+ in Holland--Dutch prices, in
other words? Well, they are rather high sometimes. The remark seemed
somewhat irrelevant, but it was talk, and therefore welcome. Anything
to break that oppressive silence. Eagerly embracing the opportunity of
saying something, I responded with cordiality: "Hollandsche kost? Neen.
Ik houd niet erg ervan. Dat kan U begrijpen. Ze zijn veels te hoog!"
This well-meant pleasantry was received with such evident disfavour that
I hastened to explain. "Ik bedoel dat vele artikelen zijn kostbaar--of
kostelijk--mijns bedunkens--in Holland--maar van onberispelijke smaak."
Hardly any response was made to this.--The merest murmur on the part of
the grandmother, that was all. But they all looked at me curiously,
without saying a word.
Frantically I strove to make an observation in an easy friendly way,
but all my Dutch seemed to have deserted me.--At least all I judged
suitable.
Fragments of conversation did float through my agonized brain, but none
of them was quite what I needed.
"Ik graauw, ik kef en kweel" was out of the question.
Two proverbs suddenly flashed across my mind, and I gripped them
firmly. One was: "Een vogel in de hand is meer waard dan tien in de
lucht," and the tempting parallel offered itself: "Een broodje in de
hand is meer waard dan tien op een bord." As this aphorism, however,
didn't sound extra civil, I let it pass.
"Deugd en belooning gaan zelden te samen" was the second proverb; and
on that model I managed, after due cogitation, to construct a nice
harmless phrase. As it expressed what we all knew and could see before
our eyes, I felt safe against contradiction, and I knew it couldn't
hurt anybody. This dictum ran: "Koek en boterham gaan dikwijls te
samen."
Perhaps it was owing to the suddenness with which I proclaimed this
truth, or to some severity in my manner; but the effect produced on the
company was magical.
Jaap dropped his fork with a clatter and said, "Gunst!" The mother put
her hand to her chest, whispering. "Zoo'n schrik!" All looked startled
and stopped eating!
To divert the scrutiny of so many eyes, I manufactured talk on the
first thing that occurred to me, and, reverting to the Dutch prices,
said: "Sommige artikelen in Holland zijn duur. Van morgen heb ik een
plaat bezichtigd--een poes opgerold over een kannetje melk--de zee in
de verte. Prachtig. Maar peper-duur. Tien gulden en een half."
"Wat zegt mijnheer," asked the grandmother, "van de poes en de peper en
de tien gulden?"
Assuring her it was merely a 'plaat', but one that was 'erg kostbaar',
I grasped at the analogy of the hours of the day, to do full justice
to the expensiveness of the picture. If ten o'clock and a half works out
at "half-elf-uur," it is not hard to reckon what ten guilders-and-a-half
_ought_ to be; so I gave it with relish: "En, Juffrouw, wat denkt U?
Het kost half-elf-gulden!"
Jaap looked at his watch and shook his head. Then he shook the watch,
put it back in his pocket and fastened his eyes again on me.
"Nee, hoor!" exclaimed the mother, who had now begun to help a special
dish; "Nee; zoo laat is het niet. Mijnheer O'Neill, neem een stukje
pudding--toe dan--heel verteerbaar."
My plate was passed along, and was heaped up liberally. Though I waited
with my thanks as long as I could, I was obliged to intervene when the
plate was piled high enough for any two people. "Nouw, ik bedank!" I
ejaculated, making my best bow.
But that caused the guillotine to fall once more. With a gesture of
impatience Truitje put away my verteerbaar pudding on a remote
side-table. Not the least chance of getting it!
I was starving in the midst of plenty!
As my hosts appeared to be as much impressed with the contrast as I
was, I endeavoured to smooth things over a little, and set them more at
their ease. Making the best of it, with all the careless grace I could
muster I blandly assured them that it didn't matter. "Het geeft
niets--het hindert niet--het komt er niet opaan."
But they grew huffy and distant--my phrases didn't do much to relieve
the strain--and I was feeling more depressed and famished every minute,
when, to my unspeakable relief, up there came the sound of wheels on
the gravel, and in a moment I heard Enderby's voice talking Dutch
loudly and confidently in the hall.
The young folks all rushed out to meet him (he is a prime favourite
with them) and there was much whispering and laughing and a long
confabulation before they came back.
Enderby entered, and greeted the older people merrily: but there was a
quizzical frown upon his brow as he sat down near me. "What's all this
O'Neill?" he whispered. "Are you ill?"
"I'm as well as could be expected in the circumstances."
"Circumstances! Why you wouldn't touch the good food they gave you. Not
content with despising their cookery you objected to their tea-cups,
and pretend that religious scruples keep you from eating until after
half-past ten. They think you are some kind of Mohammedan. These kind
people are a little hurt, I fear; and I can see they are greatly
astonished."
"So am I! I have been as polite as anything, all the time; but though
they offer me plenty of everything, if I attempt to help myself,
whew!--they whisk the dish away. They may be hurt, as you say; but I
can tell you, _I'm starving_. Is there no way to--."
Our conversation was interrupted by the mother's voice, which broke in
with the cheery question: "Mijnheer Enderby houdt +wel+ van Hollandsche
kost, niet waar?"
I watched what he would say.
He used two easy words: "Dat spreekt."
Busying herself with plates and spoons, the mother continued: "U neemt
een beetje avondeten?"
"Nouw! Of ik!" said Enderby with enthusiasm--and they brought him
eatables all sorts.
These dainties caught my eye in spite of myself; and I wondered why
none had been given to me. It was now going on to ten; and I had had
nothing since early breakfast, except a glass of lemonade, a cup of
tea and two small schuimpjes.
The old lady was observant, and must have detected famine in my eye,
for with a glance at the clock she called softly to Truitje: "Probeer
nouw is."
To me she said, "Wil Mijnheer nog thee?"
The secret was mine now, and I didn't hesitate.
"Of ik!" I replied.
There was a scream of delight from all quarters! My kom was turned
right-side up and filled to the brim with fresh warm tea. I was the
centre of interest at once. Cupboards flew open on all sides, like
pistol-shots, and everybody was waiting to help me. It was who would
give me most.
"Ham en een broodje?"
"Of ik!"
"Rookvleesch--en een ei?"
"Of ik!"
The seven lean years were past, now the time of plenty was come.
"Bitterkoekjes en leverworst?"--"Muisjes en karnemelk?"--"Appelbolletjes,
wentelteefjes en molsla?"--I refused nothing.
"Of ik" was the "Open Sesame"--the key to unlock all cupboards and all
hearts.
I took care to thank nobody for anything, for fear my plate would be
removed. Happy laughter was heard on all sides. Smiles beamed on every
face. In an instant I had become the most popular man on the island,--at
all events with the people in that farm-house. Their hospitality and my
hunger had met at last, and come to terms--to the unbounded enthusiasm
of all.
Meantime Enderby had communicated to them the fact that I was an
Irishman; and I overheard someone venture on the singular criticism:
"De Ieren zijn zoo lief voor elkaar! Hij gebruikt niets als zijn vriend
er niet bij is."
"He, wat lief!" said Baas Willemse.
"Innig!" whispered the grandmother, smiling.
"Leuk", answered the mother.
"Aardig", said some one else.
"Typisch", exclaimed Truitje.
A grumble fell on our ears: "Wat gek!"
It was Jaap.
Truitje talked on one side of Enderby; Jaap talked on the other.
Enderby smiled, then sniggered, then laughed; and finally, laying down
his knife and fork, he looked at me, and leaned back in his chair and
positively roared.
"Well, what's the matter?" I asked austerely.
"She says it's touching to see your affection for me. You looked so
melancholy when I was away, as if you were longing for something--or
crossed in love--or disappointed! You've won their hearts, at last,
my boy, not a doubt of it. Still, don't overdo that phrase, now that
you've got it. Jaap here has a story about an Irish terrier in Drenthe
that refused to eat anything for three days, when its master was away
in Amsterdam. But he adds that the terrier made up for it, by eating
everything it could, when its master came back. I can see that you are
going to achieve a reputation that will outrival that of your canine
compatriot, unless you have a care. Be a bit cautious, please."
Here Jaap, dimly apprehending that Enderby was speaking about him,
performed a mystic rite that puzzled me extremely.
Pretending to sharpen an imaginary pencil on his forefinger he held it
towards us and cried, "Sliep uit."
"What on earth is that?" I asked Enderby--who, however, could only
tell me that it was intended as a roguish taunt--Jaap was always a
schelm--but the phrase was otherwise meaningless.
As such I jotted it down at once in my notebook for future use.
From these experiences in the boerderij I was able to deduce an
important general principle of practical value.
+If you want anything in Holland never say "thank you", until the
object is firmly in your grasp.+ Then you may be as civil as you like.
But before you get hold of it, you are only safe if you say, "If I".
+In the Dutch language premature thanks are equivalent to a refusal;
so you'd better keep your gratitude out of sight.+
Well, I had won all hearts here in virtue of my discoveries. As we were
going away the grandmother gave me a second Good-bye, shaking me warmly
by both hands. "Heeft mijnheer zich goed geamuseerd?" she enquired.
"Kostelijk--Uitstekend--Nouw!" was my prompt reply, for I had expected
that query.
"Wat spreekt mijnheer nouw makkelijk Hollandsch!" she exclaimed.
"Gunst, ja", was my retort. "Ik heb zoo'n pret gehad! Onbetaalbaar!"
But I caught Jaap's eye; it was critical; so to pay back the youth for
his terrier-story I took out my pencil, sharpened it in full view of
them all and said, "Sliep uit, Jaap; je bent een schelm".
With that they all cheered, young and old, saying "Net, Mijnheer, net!"
"Tot weerziens!" laughed the grandmother shaking hands again. "Kom
spoedig terug".
"Ja hoor; dat spreekt."
"Belooft u?" she repeated, before she let me go.
I pulled myself together, and gave a parting salvo: "Ja,
zeker--Stellig--Och kom!--Reken er op!--Of ik!!"
We drove away in a perfect tornado of applause.
EPILOGUE.
THE EXPECTED SURPRISE.
On reaching my rooms at Ferdinand Bolstraat 66_a_, the landlady greeted
me with respectful effusion and told me that Jan was as good as cured,
though the wounded arm would remain stiff for a good while, she
feared. She was loud in the praises of the Engelsche juffrouw and her
profisciency in Dutch; and (sinking her voice confidentially) Mijnheer
van Leeuwen had left a letter for me upstairs.
"Boyton", I thought, as I climbed those forty nine precipitous steps
that led to my room, "I hope you have done your duty."
And he had.
Van Leeuwen wrote that he would prepare me for a great surprise! It
was yet a profound secret; but,--well, in fact--that is to say--he was
engaged to my cousin Kathleen. They had discovered mutual sympathies
and affinities over the study of Dutch--to which language now my cousin
was devoting her serious attention. By the by they had been delighted
with that monograph of mine. And the queer Grammar was useful. (I
should think so!)
He said that he could well imagine my astonished looks when I got this
news about his attachment! Now confess, he concluded, that you hadn't
the ghost of a suspicion as to what was coming?
"Oh hadn't I just?" I soliloquized, "Well; there's only one thing, my
dear fellow, to say to all that; And I really must say it in Dutch:
+Of ik+?"
Opmerkingen van de bewerker
In deze tekst komen vier soorten van nadruk voor, soms tegelijkertijd.
Voor deze txt-versie zijn ze weergeven met _cursief_, =vet=,
+gespatieerd+ en HOOFDLETTERS.
Ook in de txt-versie zijn de kopteksten van bovenaan de bladzijden
verplaatst naar het begin van de hoofdstukken.
Voor het gemak van de lezer is de inhoudsopgave verplaatst van het eind
van het boek naar het begin.
In de tabel met uitspraakregels op pag. 16 werd in het origineel E U
twee keer genoemd. De tweede is veranderd in E I.
Duidelijke drukfouten zijn stilzwijgend verbeterd. Alle andere
eigenaardigheden en inconsequenties in spelling en grammatica zijn
niet gewijzigd, in het bijzonder die in de zogenaamde citaten uit
"Boyton and Brandnetel". Ook de stijl van de auteur in het gebruik van
aanhalingstekens is niet gewijzigd.