Chapter X
The attentive reader who knows human nature will naturally wish to know why I closed the last chapter so tamely, and why that zoölogical problem which, only a short time before had caused such a violent explosion, was now allowed to rest in peace.
There are three reasons for this.
Firstly, the women had been so wrought up that they were now exhausted.
Secondly, Juffrouw Laps, the shrewd leader of the fight, looked over the battlefield and, without thinking of the famous battle between the Horatii and the Curiatii, saw with innate tactical talent the correctness of “divide and conquer.” With the forces Stotter, Mabbel, Krummel and Zipperman against the house of Pieterse—that was all right. But now that the house was supported by Pennewip’s powerful hand, it was prudent to withdraw from the battle. For who could guarantee her that she might depend upon her allies? What assurance had she that the midwife, or even Juffrouw Zipperman would not go over to the enemy?—if only out of deference to the versatile wig! No, no, no! She wouldn’t risk her rhetorical artillery in such a doubtful engagement! She was content to say to herself, “I will get even with you later.” Imagining her, with all her relations to society, multiplied by twenty or thirty millions, we would have read the next day in this or that official Laps organ something like this:
“Our relations with the Pietersian empire are most cordial. The recent friendly meeting between the two sovereigns was merely that they might have the mutual pleasure of seeing one another, and had no political significance whatever. It will be seen how unfounded were those rumors of ‘strained relations,’ which were said to have been brought about by a discussion of certain characteristics of our popular princess. The reader will recall that we never gave credence to those rumors, and reported them with great reserve.”
Thirdly. The third and chief cause of the armistice was—curiosity. Under the present changed circumstances whoever betrayed any anger would have to leave; and whoever left would not find out why Master Pennewip had come, or what new crime Walter had committed. Again we see the truth of the proposition, that everything has its good side.
“But, Master Pennewip,” asked Juffrouw Pieterse—she threw the subdued sucking animal a look that was like a triumphant telegram, and read: Where are you now?—“but Master Pennewip, what has Walter been doing now?”
“Yes, what has he been up to this time,” added Juffrouw Laps, delighted that the conversation had taken this turn, and that she was now to hear about Walter’s latest sin.
For the sinner is a thing in which pious persons find much edification. As we have already seen, Juffrouw Laps was fond of edification.
Pennewip was just on the point of beginning his indictment when the door-bell rang. It rang again: “It’s for us”—and in a moment our truant walked into the room.
He was paler than usual, and with good reason; for strange things had happened to him since Fancy had lifted him up and borne him away.
“Juffrouw Pieterse,” began Pennewip, “my school is famous, even as far away as Kattenburg. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Master Pennewip.”
“I repeat it: Famous! And, too, chiefly on account of the fine moral there—I mean, of course, in my school. Religion and morality occupy the first place in my school. I could show you verses on the Deity—but I pass over that. It is sufficient for you to know that my school is famous as far as—but what am I talking about—I’ve even had a boy from Wittenburg; and I was once consulted about the education of a boy whose father lived at Muiderberg.”
“Oh, Master Pennewip!”
“Yes, Juffrouw, I still have the letter and could show it to you. The man was a gravedigger—the boy painted inappropriate figures on the coffins. And just for this reason I feel it my duty to tell you that I don’t intend to see my school lose its good name through that good-for-nothing boy of yours there!”
Poor Walter had fallen from the clouds. That sounded quite different from a papal appointment—which he really no longer cared for, as he had just received another appointment that pleased him better.
His mother wanted to pass immediately to what she called her “divine worship” and give him a sound thrashing, in order to satisfy the teacher that religion and morality took the first place in her house, too.
But the teacher found it preferable to tell the party what the trouble was, and incidentally to strengthen the feeling of guilt in the patient.
“Your son belongs to the class of robbers, murderers, ravishers of women, incendiaries——”
That was all.
“Holy grace! Heavenly righteousness! Compassionate Christian souls! Ah, divine and human virtue, is it possible! What must we endure!”
I cannot always be exact; but, in general, such was the flood of exclamations that all but swept away that ten-year-old robber, murderer, ravisher of women and incendiary.
“I am going to read you something from his hand,” said the teacher, “and then if anybody still doubts the boy’s viciousness——”
All tacitly promised to have no doubts.
The work that the teacher read was indeed of such a nature as to leave small room for doubts; and I, who have chosen Walter for my hero, anticipate difficulty in convincing the reader that he was not so bad as he seemed—after his