Chapter XXXI
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.